//------------------------------// // Act 3 Chapter 11 : Sentient Hyper-Optimized Tourniquet Amusement Network // Story: Starlight Over Detrot: A Noir Tale // by Chessie //------------------------------// Child rearing in Equestria has always been a bit of a touchy subject for the public. How much independence can a foal be afforded before their parents are considered neglectful? How much exposure is ‘good’ and how much might simply scar young, tender psyches? The question remains unsettled even after decades careful consideration, thoughtful punditry, and occasional running about in circles screaming at the top of the lungs. The issue is further complicated by the fairly independent nature of equine children themselves. Most can crawl within a matter of hours and walk within a matter of weeks. In infancy, many ponies undergo some fairly extreme magical spikes as their developing minds tap into different parts of their innate abilities. Earth pony foals have been known to kick down small buildings, while pegasi children might cause indigent weather that leaves a city block under a half meter of snow in the midst of Summer. The first cutie-mark acquisition related police report can be expected shortly thereafter. All in all, these are merely expected parts of growing up. The question of childhood independence is difficult enough in the countryside - where the most dangerous thing most foals could run into in the more civilized part of rural Equestria is a fast moving carriage - but in major cities and outposts on the edge of wilderness areas there are dangers that aren’t so readily apparent. While the odds of a child being snatched by a stranger are low, the odds of stumbling into magical contamination, falling down a sewer, or being dragged into the middle of a gang are much higher. How then to approach the issue? Flailing our hooves about and screaming ‘think of the babies!’ has been, after extensive testing, proven not to work terribly well. We might look to other species for some inspiration, but zebra children tend to live highly regimented lives and, for the most part, don’t share their Equestrian counterparts tendency to spontaneously teleport to the tops of telephone poles or start small tornados. Griffin children are much like pegasi with the added wrinkle of an arsenal of attached claws and a flesh-ripping beak. In the end, the most effective methods seem to also be the most difficult; judgement, critical thinking, and avoiding the urge to drink an ocean of absinthe when baby manages to call down a hail-storm in the living room or tear a hole in the fabric of space/time. -The Scholar Harmless or not, Goofball is still a presence to be reckoned with when he’s right in your face. A lesser pony might have immediately voided their bowels at finding themselves confronted with a dog’s head the size of their barrel. I, thankfully, hadn’t had anything to eat recently and ended up just letting out a manly scream of terror and throwing myself back from the door, straight into Cerise. The two of us tumbled into a pile against the wall. Various heads popped out of the cells lining the hallway to see what was going on, then collectively rolled their eyes and drew back as they caught sight of the dog. Cerise squirmed against me and—while it was lovely having a pretty mare writhing in my lap—one of her rear hooves caught me in the gut, bruising my intestines and kidneys quite badly. I rolled away from her and lay there, clutching my stomach, panting for breath, and suddenly, desperately needing a piss. The damn puppy was just sitting there, his enormous head poking through the open door as he tried to nip at my tail. His eyes centered on Swift and he let out a yip that almost deafened me as he tried to wiggle through an opening much, much too small. “Swift...if I shoot...your dog...you’re not going to be upset, are you?” I grunted, trying to drag myself upright. I heard sniggering and looked over to see my driver clutching her sides, laughing like a drunken squirrel. “It would probably just tickle him, Sir,” she replied, spreading her wings and lifting off. She alighted on Goofball’s nose and he made what I’m sure what the canine equivalent of a giggle, pulling his head back through the door of Arcane Control and taking her with him. “Kid, did you...did you know that blasted mutt was there?” I barked after her, still trying to catch my breath. The answer drifted back from inside, “Of course, Sir!” “...sneaky, toothy little turkey...” I muttered as a smirking Limerence helped me up. Turning to see about Cerise, I found her huddled against the far wall, shaking like a leaf. Her green mane had fallen across her face and she was whimpering softly, rocking back and forth. For a moment, I was mystified at what might put a pony of Cerise’s not inconsiderable magical might into a paralytic shock, but then a particular instant poked up through the fetid, stinking heap of my recent memory. I was sharing a cup of tea with The Warden of Tartarus she was telling one of her little anecdotes about the Chief introducing her daughter after Cerise was nicked for shoplifting. ‘I had Cerberus swallow her.’ Reaching down, I put my forelegs around the girl. She flinched, then inhaled and shoved herself over against me, face hidden against my neck. Whatever magic had fillies using me for a tear-sponge lately was still working. “D-d-detective?” she sobbed, clinging to me like a foal. “I-I-I s-saw a b-big dog. Is it g-gone?” “It’s gone,” I replied, stroking her mane. “He’s pretty friendly, when you get to know him. Stupid, but friendly.” “Is she okay?” Tourniquet asked from overhead, with a trace of guilt in her voice. “She’ll be fine,” I replied, gathering Cerise up against me. “I’m not going to ask how you got that beast in here just yet, but could you get him out of sight for a few minutes?” “Will do!” Cerise was taking some deep breaths, her hooves shaking as she fought off the panic attack. “I...I’m r-really starting to r-re-evaluate my decision to c-come with you today, D-d-detective,” she whispered, hiccuping softly. “I have to re-evaluate my decision not to hand myself to your mother so I could sit in a jail cell through the end of the world about four times a day,” I quipped, tilting her head up with one toe under her chin so I could wipe tears off her muzzle. “You’re fine. Just a big dumb dog. Emphasis on the dumb.” “W-was I hallucinating or something?” she asked, coughing softly. “Because big isn’t...isn’t usually that big!” I shook my head. “No, he’s actually that size. The Warden of Tartarus told me a little story about you and his father.” She looked momentarily confused, then her eyes widened. “T-that’s Cerberus’ puppy!?” “He didn’t inherit his father’s disposition, thankfully,” Taxi said as she recovered from her laughing fit, laying on the floor with her chin propped on one hoof, still grinning. “You feed him potato chips, lighter fluid, or chicken and he’s your best friend forever. Just don’t let him get into chocolate or old tires. He gets gas that will level a city block.” That got a tiny smile from Cerise and she gulped, pushing herself up. “Okay...alright, I think...I just needed a minute. This has been the freakiest day. I think I’m good now.” “You’re not going to be good once we introduce you to Tourniquet. I’m just going to warn you that she’s freaky, even by my standards,” I warned her. “Sticks and stones, Detective!” Tourniquet chirped. “At least I remember to charge my batteries on a regular basis. You’re running low.” I tried to get a look down at myself and Cerise followed my gaze to my chest. “Detective, there’s...um...there’s a light blinking under your fur...” “Yeah, like I said. Freaky, even by my standards. Come on. I need a wall socket.” ---- Arcane Control was...different. Last I’d been in there during the brief trip to get chemicals for Edina, it was mostly just a collection of couches and bongs. Jambalaya and her friends had taken full advantage of access to the leavings of the city’s rich to outfit the little room to their very particular tastes. Five high end sofas, each one a different expensive wood, surrounded coffee tables that would have cost my entire salary for six months. A high backed, four poster bed was jammed in the corner with a giggling unicorn filly and her earth-pony colt—both barely out of their teenage years—curled up on it. They were too absorbed in making out with each other to pay us much attention. The stink of Zap still filled the air, but it was mixed with the scent of cigars, sex, spray-paint, and a hint of fried okra. Every wall was painted with the motto of the Aroyos in a rainbow of colors: ‘Ever Free’. A full bar, complete with expensive labels and an icebox as tall as me owned the entire right wall. There wasn’t a bartender, but I got the distinct impression that ‘Jambalaya’s Love Shack’ was a ‘serve yourself’ sorta joint. The only spot that hadn’t been altered in some way was about six meters of wall-space towards the back where the secret door to the inner chamber was hidden. Strolling in ahead of Taxi and Limerence, I peered at the room’s other occupants. Two stallions about my age were picking up a deck of cards that’d been scattered by Goofball barreling through. They gave me a curious look, but I didn’t see any recognition there. Neither of them looked like Aroyos; they didn’t have enough piercings or funny colors to their manes. Former church members, maybe. A mare with a half empty bottle propped in the crook of her leg was snoring up a storm on one of the couches. Cerise, who’d been lingering at the back, stuck her head in beside me and grinned. “Oooh, a crash pad! My favorite!” she exclaimed, pushing past me and heading straight for the bar. Uncorking a bottle, she found a clean glass on the side-board and poured herself a generous shot of something the color of liquid gold. “So, where’s this ‘Tourniquet’, then?” “I’ve moved Goofball into the tunnels underneath my chamber. Warden Swift is down there with him,” Tourniquet chimed in. “Can I open the doors now?” “Give me a minute,” I replied, then stepped up beside the bar and covered Cerise’s shot before she could toss it back. “Okay, now, Cerise...I’m going to give you this drink. You’ll get to drink it, so you have that to look forward to. You’re going to have to wait until after you stop hyperventilating to do that, though. I don’t want you to get booze in your lungs. Are we clear?” Her nose wrinkled, but she nodded. “It can’t be any worse than some of the stuff my mom described wanting to do to you...so, yeah, I guess.” “We’ll say that after you see this,” I replied. Picking up the shot-glass, I hobbled on three legs to the back of the room, standing there before the doors of Tourniquet’s chamber. “Alright! We’re as ready we can be. Tourniquet! Let us in!” A section of wall much larger than the little door Tourniquet had let us in through during our last visit let out a clank, then began to fold upwards. The clank of metal on metal was followed by the groan of heavy hydraulic hinges releasing a blast of trapped gasses. As the portal gradually opened, light poured out, bathing us in a brilliant glow. “I...I th-think I’d l-like that drink now, Detective,” Cerise murmured, staring into the vast room beyond. I passed her the shot and she tossed it back, coughing and spluttering for a moment before wiping her muzzle off with one fetlock. It was quite the sight, I must admit. A vast swarm of Ladybugs flew in slow spirals around the ceiling, illuminated from above by an array of snaking power cables that shined with inner light bright enough that the whole room might as well have been in full sun. The old, dusty toys were gone and somepony had given the carpet a thorough going over with a vacuum cleaner. An enclosed, curtained bed I could have run laps around and dozens of bookshelves sat towards the center of the cavernous room. There was a veritable library in there, surrounding the bed on all sides.         Off to the left of the bed, a long dining room table—probably purloined from some rich furniture aficionado—was stacked with board games and books. There was even one of those rare ‘big screen’ televisions balanced precariously atop a half dozen milk crates.         A bundle of cables stretched down from the ceiling to the bed, thrumming energy pulsating down along them. I could almost feel the power bursting making the very air dance. My heart gave a few excited thumps, as though sensing the weight of magic nearby.         Most notably, perhaps, the body of the dragon and the corpses of the cult members who’d been used to restart Supermax were all gone. Drawings and photographs were taped wall to wall. Some were pictures of children playing and others of Tourniquet herself, with foal’s hoofprints alongside.         For just a couple of weeks worth of work, it was a room worthy of a princess.         “Come in, Detective! We were just finishing up!” Tourniquet’s voice range out from a spot above me. The lacy curtains around the bed drew back, revealing four foals sitting together around the magical construct herself. She had a book open across her hooves and looked to have been reading to them. Looking up, her scintillating gem-like eyes flashed and she smiled, before turning back to her story. The patches of fur along her side seemed to be growing back and her fiber-optic mane buzzed with life.         “—And then the great detective stepped into the vault...and we’ll pick this up tomorrow, okay? I’ve got to go talk to my friend and you guys need some sleep,” she said, to a whole round of disappointed ‘awwws’. I recognized Shadow Walk—the talented little unicorn who’d helped hide Goofball for us all this time—amongst the tiny gathering.         The group of foals hopped down off the bed, yawning softly as they trotted towards the exit portal. Tourniquet shut her storybook, setting it back on one of the plush pillows. The cords on her back drew her up into the air. She hovered overhead, hanging there with a cool, quiet smile on her robotic features. She appraised us for a moment before dropping down to the carpet and trotting over to put her forelegs around my neck in a friendly hug. Far from the cold, sterile mechanism I expected, she was warm and I could feel a heartbeat under all that metal. I patted her shoulders, careful to avoid the cables sprouting from her spine. “It is very good to see you, Detective. I...must confess I’m not sure where to begin,” she said, brushing a hoof over the socket on my chest. “Maybe with an electrical cord for your poor heart?” “That sounds lovely, now you mention it, but maybe answering some questions would be good, too. This place is hoppin’. You seem a bit...eh...different,” I said. A few curious Ladybugs were dropping down to land on my shoulders, making themselves comfortable. Tourniquet tossed her mane and turned, holding out a hoof towards her table. “I’m the same pony, mostly. You wouldn’t believe what these Aroyos have done for me, though. Come on, there’s munchies.” “I’d say, looking around this place, they got the good end of the deal,” Taxi chuckled, ambling over to the table and settling herself at one of the chairs. A swarm of Ladybugs swept down and buzzed over the table, lifting away the board-games and books, clearing the space in seconds. A moment later, another swarm zipped in through the open door, bearing a tray with them; it was heaped with fresh vegetables and breads. There was even a tiny cooked chicken, for Swift. “Now I think about it, where is Swift?” I asked, looking around the room. “You said she was with Goofball, but—”         A section of the floor maybe five meters on a side clunked, then sank out of sight. My partner burst out of the hole, a broad grin on her muzzle as she spiraled around the table once, then hopped into one of the chairs. Throwing her hooves up on the table, she bounced in her seat like a toddler on a caffeine bender as the panel in the floor slid shut behind her. Just before it closed, I thought I heard three distinct ‘woofs’ in the distance.         “Oh Sir! You wouldn’t believe what they’ve done with the place this last week! Goofball has his own place down in the sewers! I mean, it used to be the daevas nest, but once Tourniquet got her full power systems up and running, she was able to drive them into a cistern and the Aroyos dumped about five meters of gravel on top of them! It’s so cool down there! Goofball’s got a dog chew made of tires that I could sleep inside of and—”         I held up both front hooves for a second, then moved over to the table beside the tray of food, settling down beside it. “Kid...kid, please take a deep breath. I’m still mentally processing how they’ve managed all this under the Darkening, much less with what I thought were their resources.”         “These were ponies living in hardship before the Darkening, Sir. They’re smart!” she replied. Looking up and to the left, she grinned at something in the distance. “I can see two ponies upstairs who’re working on a brand new water pumping system together. Hrmmm… they’re having trouble. Lemme check the prisoner roster. Oh! There’s a civic engineer sitting in one of the cells down in the Secure Containment Wing. Let’s see...” Her gaze narrowed, then her wings spasmed and she let out a breath. “There! I’ve authorized him to head upstairs. He should be on his way up to help them!” Turning back to the table, she all but purred at the sight of the chicken, snatching it up in her hooves and sinking her teeth in.         I sat there for a long moment, just trying to work out what had just happened. A glass bottle dropped onto the table in front of me, held in a soft green glow. Cerise pulled out a chair at my side and sagged into it, still staring at Tourniquet as she filled a second shot-glass and levitated it in my direction. I took a quick swallow. It was whiskey, but good enough that I didn’t feel the need to cringe at the flavor. “Detective, are all of your friends...you know…” Cerise waved towards the construct, who was just taking her seat at the head of the table, and my partner who was gleefully ripping her chicken apart. “Oddities of nature?” Limerence supplied, casually snatching up a couple of crackers and smearing them with hummus from a little jar. “You would be simply amazed—were you to spend an extended period of time with us—at how the Detective attracts persons who stand outside of the common mold.” “Brilliant. I was laying in bed this morning thinking ‘I need to have lunch with a robot and a pegasus who eats meat in a place from my nightmares. That’ll be fun’,” she groused, grabbing a half a cucumber off the tray, dunking it in a little bowl of salad dressing. “I’m not a robot,” Tourniquet huffed, picking up a piece of cheese and flicking it at Cerise. The unicorn caught it with her horn, then gave it a curious sniff before stuffing it in her muzzle. “I’m a trans-iterated mind-matrix over top of a distributed neural network. There’s a difference!” “Oh, because that’s sooo clear…” Cerise shot back, with a roll of the eyes for good measure. I felt something tap me on the shoulder and looked up to find a cable hanging in mid-air above my shoulder like a cobra waiting to strike. Realizing what I was meant to do, I quickly unzipped my heart pouch and fished out the custom plug, offering it to the cable which plugged itself in. A rush of warmth filled my chest and I couldn’t hold in a happy moan as my heart began to beat a little faster. “Awww, yeah...that’s the stuff,” I groaned, leaning back and resting a hoof on the plug. There was a soft thump and I glanced over to see Cerise’s cheek resting on the table. She was out like a light. “Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed it would be the heart plug thing. I had money on her fainting when Swift started eating,” Taxi murmured. My partner giggled, picking a bit of meat out from between two of her teeth with the end of a bone. Limerence shook his head. “I imagined it more likely we’d lose her around the time the door opened. Quite resilient, that little filly. A few more days and she might be worth keeping around.” “Not a damn chance,” I replied, sharply. “She wants away from her mother, she can stay here, but I am not carting her around with us.” I jerked my chin at Cerise, then at the bed. A half dozen thick cables spilled from under the table, gently wrapping the girl in their snake-like grasp before lifting her over to the mattress, laying her across it and tugging a blanket up to her chin. “I don’t know how dangerous Canterlot is going to be and I’m not in the business of picking up strays.” Taxi gave me a sidelong look as she pulled a brush from her saddlebag and began combing out her braid. “Hardy...Sometimes I think you do nothing but pick up strays. I mean, think about it. Mags. Lim. Me. You aren’t exactly a poster child for cold calculation.” I tried to think of a counter argument, but lately I’d been on a losing streak where those were concerned. “Fine, but be that as it may, I am not taking Chief Iris Jade’s daughter with me to Canterlot. I’ll leave a note with Jade that she’s in the one place that might be safer than the Castle. First thing’s first, we need to get a plan laid down and I need information.” I turned to Tourniquet who perked up a little. “Explain to me what you’ve been doing over the last couple of weeks. I want to know why Swift suddenly seems to be able to see through walls and what Wisteria meant when she said you had something to do with why the city power grid is still running.” Swift coughed, spitting out a piece of gristle. She flicked a nervous eye towards Tourniquet who was tapping her hooves together, trying not to look like she was hiding something and failing spectacularly. The silence stretched until I started to wonder if I was going to get an answer at all. It was Swift who broke it first. “Ahem...Sir? There’s something Tourniquet should really tell you.” Leaning over she bopped Tourniquet on the leg with her tail. “Did you really want to keep that from him?” “I didn’t want to start a fight!” Tourniquet whined, some servos in her legs squeaking softly. “It’s not like I knew what was going to happen or anything…” “Yeah, but you were gonna try to keep him from finding out,” Swift shot back. “Now spill, okay? I promise he’s not going to freak out. Or at least, if he does freak out, Miss Taxi will hit him.” Taxi rolled her hooves, which let out some disturbing pops and crackles. “If this is that good, I might wanna limber up a little…” Fortifying myself with a piece of celery covered in peanut butter, I said, “Look, this has been such an exhausting day that it would be terribly difficult for me to find the energy to freak out right now. Nobody is dead, or you’d have let me know right away. The city isn’t actively burning to the ground this instant and we’d probably be pretty safe here even if it were. So lay it on me. What’ve you done?” Tourniquet opened her muzzle and the lights in her eyes spun like diamonds in a centrifuge. It was still about five seconds before she found the courage to speak. “Detective...I think I might have become the Detrot power grid.” Processing. Processing. Processing. Nope, I got nothing. Leaning back in my chair, I swung my rear hooves up on the table and tilted my head back to watch the slow whirl of the ladybug swarm against the lights on the ceiling. Funny thing that a pony can reach my age and have seen and done some of the things I have and someone can still say something that leaves you without any experience to draw on. It wasn’t a complicated idea, right? A friend of mine had just somehow become the electrical grid. She was a pretty solid friend, really, and there are few more scrupulous individuals than somepony whose major wants in life were foals to read to, hugs, and possibly having her halls swept out on a regular basis. Swift had her ‘please say something’ face on. I decided to let her stew in the anticipation for another minute or two as I casually picked a carrot up off the platter and began biting it into the shape of a bullet. The carrot had been frozen until very recently, and had a touch of freezer burn, but it was tasty enough. When the vegetable suitably resembled a fifty caliber round, I set it on the table in front of me and exhaled. “Fine,” I said, at last. “You don’t sound insane and I’ve had a fair bit of experience with insanity lately, so I guess I’ll have to accept that you’re telling me the truth. You’re the power grid. How?” Tourniquet’s chromatic mane shifted from blue to bright red all in one flash. I took it for whatever constitutes a blush amongst mind matrixes on top of distributed neural whatevers. “It was an accident, really,” she began. “It was when the Aroyos first moved in. You remember I said I could feel a power cable running underground?” “I remember. You had some kind of kooky plan to run your own cables out to it.” Limerence cocked his head and said, “Tapping directly into the city power supply is extremely dangerous if you haven’t got the proper tools. I should know. One of my primary school science projects caused the L.R. Fifty One Black Out. How did you manage it?” “The Aroyos are really good at electrical work. I mean, crazy good. I don’t know why the Skids was the way it was, but I think somepony was keeping it like that. The other Cyclone groups seemed to be spending a crazy amount of resources on boxing the Aroyos in. Same with the Jewelers. Whoever these ‘Ancestors’ of theirs are, they trained the absolute best electricians in all of Equestria and if they’d been given the chance, their skills could have changed the face of Detrot,” Tourniquet replied. “We managed to actually tap into the city power supply on a municipal trunk. Those are the really big cables. They’re supposed to go to everything, everywhere.” “And then?” Her ears laid back against her metallic head. “After about two days I started to notice I could see more things. Lots more.” “What...sort of things?” I asked. “I could see sewers waaay outside of the range of my cameras. I could see into houses. I could see the skies for miles around. It got worse...or maybe better. I don’t know. Eventually, I was able to feel...this huge light.” She squirmed in her seat and I got the distinct impression that she was having something akin to a technological stiffy. “It was amazing, Detective. You can’t even imagine!” “I think I have an idea. So, what was it?” Tourniquet sat forward, planting her hooves on the table as the cords coming from her back vibrated like plucked guitar strings. “It was the power station. The Detrot Power Station! I mean, I didn’t figure that out right away, but it was beautiful!” Her face fell a little and she sighed. “Unfortunately, the light was...fading. Detrot runs on a mix of hydroelectrics from the Bay and cascading crystal induction. That stuff takes somepony watching to make sure it all keeps going.” “Were there not back-ups and such to keep the systems operating?” Limerence asked, quizzically. She nodded, and her mane began to shift towards a soft blue. “Yeah, but none that would keep it going forever. I don’t know how, but...I felt around. I started to touch the systems with my thoughts. Wherever I touched, they started to work again. I charted out a safe path through the sewers for the Aroyos to get to the power station. Once they were there, they started fixing everything.” Her ears drooped a little. “Well...almost everything…” “Lemme guess. The Shield?” I asked. The guilty look on Tourniquet face was answer enough. She slid down in her chair until I could only see her ears and the cords on her back.  “I couldn’t even find whatever power system they’re all connected to,” she replied. “They don’t even have sewer systems under them. They’re just big pillars of reinforced, enchanted concrete.” Before I could ask my next question I heard a soft catch of breath and looked over to find Swift rubbing both forelegs together like she’d caught a sudden chill. The red crescent on her chest was glittering brightly, but faded back to normal after a few seconds. Her eyes widened and she put both hooves on either side of her head. I pushed myself back from the table, but she was already waving at me to sit back down. “Ow! Brrr! That feels really weird!” she whimpered, clutching her skull. Slowly, the distressed expression faded and her eyes widened. “What...what was that?” “What? What happened?” I demanded. Swift just sat there for a moment, her eyes moving back and forth in their sockets, staring off into space. Leaning over I slapped the table in front of her. She jumped and her gaze centered on my face, but I got the feeling I still wasn’t really the focus of her attention. “Kid, talk to me, dammit!” Finally, her ears tilted toward me and she blinked a few times, seeming to come out of whatever trance had momentarily gripped her. “Sorry, Sir! I...oh, wow! This is super neat!” she exclaimed, hopping up to stand in her chair as her vision fuzzed out again. I clapped my hooves to bring her back around. “Tourniquet just put so much information in my head! Like, a bunch!” She paused a second then giggled at some joke nopony else was hearing. “Gosh, did you have to put that in my brain? I don’t need to know that!” “I know, but it was really funny!” Tourniquet replied, doubling up with laughter that sounded like a running blender full of metal spoons. Swift rolled her eyes and went back to scanning. “Care to let us all in on the joke?” I snapped after a minute had passed with no response from either of them. Tourniquet’s nose wrinkled and she ducked her head. “Sorry! I’m still getting used to having full power, Detective. I didn’t have enough to send updates until a few days ago.” “Updates?” Taxi scoffed. “Updates are things to attach to something with a paperclip and a post-it note that says ‘FYI’. Updates don’t get beamed directly into a pony’s head!” “Yeah, well, my updates do. Whenever Swift is here, I’ll be able to send her a nice package of information on everything that’s happened lately in the prison! Since I’ve already got a tap into her mind—” “What?!” I blurted, sitting up straight. “You didn’t say anything about a ‘tap into her mind’ when we agreed to this little transfer of power!” The construct’s muzzle fell into a tiny frown. “Yeah, well...you guys were kinda gonna die at the time. I figured you wouldn’t be bothered about that. Besides, it was never this strong with my mom. I’m on new ground as much as you, okay? Sheesh.” Swift quietly reached out and put a hoof on my knee. “Sir, it’s okay. I don’t mind. She’s my friend.” I met her eyes and she gave me a quiet smile. “Besides...I’m inside her head, too. She would never hurt us. I promise.” “You do realize that the casual manner in which you’re taking this isn’t making me feel better, right?” I grumbled, then my curiosity got the better of me. “What’s it like?” She stared off into space for a bit, thinking. “The best I can describe it is like hearing music playing inside a department store. You don’t really pay attention to it, because you’re doing other things, but when you do it turns out they’re playing your favorite song. You can even change the tune. When we first got here, I started to hear the music, but then...I started to realize it was my music, too. Maybe more like ‘our’ music.” Tourniquet grinned . “I did sorta wonder why I was having the urge to eat a whole plate of fried chicken nuggets. I’m glad I don’t have a stomach anymore or that would have been embarrassing.” ‘Acceptance, Hardy. You handled the meat eating, the prize fighting, and the dead pigeon,’ I thought. ‘You can handle this.’ I inhaled, then let out the breath with a noise like a deflating party balloon. “Swift, I’m going to tuck this away in my nice little ‘denial’ place where I keep everything you’ve done for the last two months.” I turned back to Tourniquet. “So, you’ve been in contact with Queenie and the Ladybugs? Is the information they are pumping you part of these ‘updates’?”         The bionic filly’s ears flattened to her head. “Um...no. I mean, they certainly helped, but...most of them are actually here. If you’re hoping for information about what’s going on in the city or Uptown, I’m afraid I don’t have any.”         “I’ve never known Queenie to sit in one place. Why on earth would it hole up here?”         The cords leading out of Tourniquet’s back tightened and she was lifted out of her chair, flying up near the ceiling to where the swarm of Ladybugs flew. A couple detached from the holding pattern and landed on her hooves. After a brief pause, she shook her head. “I’m afraid they don’t know. They say that there’s something...wrong...with Uptown. Lots of Essies felt it and fled. It’s like magic itself had somehow turned bad there.” The Ladybugs flitted away and she dropped to the ground. “I wish I could tell you more, Detective. There’s only one thing I can say for absolute sure, though.”         “And that is?”         “Somepony, somewhere, planned all this,” she replied, with certainty. “That’s the only explanation for how orderly the evacuation into the city was. There were roadblocks and if your name wasn’t on some sort of list, you didn’t get in. That spell that’s around Uptown is impenetrable and the center of the city has its own power supply. The Shield Pylons are way over-engineered for what they’re supposed to do if I can’t get into one.”         “Someone who plays the long game,” Taxi commented, thoughtfully. “Someone with vast resources and who doesn’t mind taking a few decades to see their plans come to fruition. Somepony who can hide the construction of an entire secret power grid inside the middle of a major metropolitan area.” “That knowledge doesn’t help us much, Sweets,” I replied, grumpily. “There’s a list of beings I’m personally familiar with who could be described as ‘long lived, patient, devious, and resourceful’. We need something else.” Limerence tapped his chin, then speculatively drew a circle on the table. “Detective, while I do agree with you that we do need...additional information, I’m afraid my associates were of a rather more academic mindset. Now that the Archivists are no more, few of my father’s contacts will be willing to deal with us. As most of this is occurring in Uptown, is it possible you have some...contact there with whom we might get in touch?” “Well, most of the phones are down and I can’t think of…” I hesitated a moment, trailing off. “What? What is it, Sir?” Swift asked, a bit of hope sparkling in her eyes. “It’s probably nothing,” I replied, but she gave me a look that said that wouldn’t do. I sighed and continued, “There was this guy. Diamond or something like that. He was some big shot in Uptown. I met him at the police ball last month and he offered me a job, or at least, I think that’s what it was. Maybe it was just help. I don’t know. He seemed like an alright sort of guy.” “Was that who you were talking to when you wandered off?” Limerence asked. I nodded. “Yeah. He was bankrolling the ball. I remember that much.” Lim’s expression turned a bit grave. “Voluntas. You were talking to Diamante Voluntas.” “That’s him. You know him?” The librarian rested his hooves in front of himself and laid his chin on them. “Yes. He has...impeded...my father’s activities on a number of occasions. Though, I suppose impeded is a strong word. He outbid the Archivists on the acquisitions of several extremely powerful, extremely dangerous artifacts. None of them have seen the light of day in recent years, so I would assume he is simply a collector, but...well, you knew my father.” “He never liked to have anything out of his control,” I affirmed. “Diamante is a thinker. He might be willing to help us if we can get in touch with him.” Tourniquet spoke up. “I might be able to get a phone line into Uptown. The telephone system can’t be that different from the electrical grid, right? I’d just need to find the frequency that the big shield around Uptown is working on. If it works according to standard magical shielding principles, I can do that and then get a call out. Of course...um...Swift would...uh...oh...um, okay, maybe it’s not such a good idea...” “Gooo on,” I growled. “I could...erm...I could maybe do it if Swift gets close enough. So I could feel the way the magical frequencies affect our connection.” “Never easy with you, is it?” I grunted, getting to my hooves and pacing back and forth in front of the long table. “Is there somewhere we can get near the shield underground?” Tourniquet’s eyes unfocused and the lights overhead began to pulse more quickly. After a short wait, she shook her head. “Somepony seems to be aware of the danger of letting anypony study the shield too closely. There are about three dozen sewer entrances in that area and all of them have either been sealed off or guarded well outside of where we’d need to be.” “That leaves sneaking up above ground,” Taxi said, making a sour face. “The Aroyo’s Ancestors seem to think we need to be out of the city for a bit and I’m inclined to agree with them,” I said. “Our trip to the Detrot P.D. is likely to have our enemies scrambling and us disappearing again will sow a bit more confusion. We’ll handle this when we get back and that’ll give the Aroyos time to find us a safe way to get near to the shield around Uptown.” There was a soft tone overhead. “That’ll be Short Sell, coming for his interrogation,” Tourniquet explained. Her cables lifted her out of her chair and she rose up out of sight, vanishing into the tangle of wires near the ceiling. “I’ll be up here. The prisoners still think I’m just a disembodied voice and I kinda like that.” Dragging a chair out from the table, I pulled it to a place a few meters in front of the door and arranged it facing the entrance, then called out, “Could you bring the lights down low and center them on this area here? Sort of ‘mob interrogation’ effect?” “I can do you one better, Detective!” Tourniquet replied. Every light in the room clicked off, leaving us in complete darkness for a few seconds before something rattled overhead and a single light bulb dangling from a chain popped on just above the chair. I quickly tugged the plug out of my heart and zipped the pouch shut, feeling considerably rejuvenated as the cord was dragged out of sight. “How do we play this, Sir?” Swift asked, self-consciously rubbing the scar on her chest. “We play it straight. Short Sell has nothing to negotiate with,” I replied. Swift looked confused for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Should I use my ‘cooperation face’, Sir?” “Leave some of that chicken stuck between your teeth and give him a whiff of your breath. Still...hold on the heavy stuff for a minute. I want to see if I can do this another way.” The conversation was interrupted as the chamber door clanked open and Wisteria’s daughter—Jambalaya—tromped in with the pony I presumed to be Short Sell in tow. Jambalaya was looking as grumpy as ever, but her wild, shaggy mane was lightly combed and her horn had a layer of fresh polish. Even the juju bag around her neck was new; it was made from the velvet bag some high end liquor was sold in. Meanwhile, her prisoner was a haughty little sack of pudge and piss, his nose held high as he strutted along like a righteous martyr for the cause. Short Sell was a pasty purple with a gritty green mane the color of cucumbers that’ve sat out a couple of days too long. Last I’d seen him, he was a few pounds heavier and his chins had a bit more bounce to them. Whatever Tourniquet was feeding them, it was probably a more balanced diet than the expensive booze and stuffed olives the rich, feckless, and easily bored tend to subsist on when they don’t have to worry about their looks or personality to attract a mate. I took a quick note of his cutie-mark; two pens laying side by side in a parallel line that looked like an equal sign. I stood behind the chair, my face shaded by my mane in the stark, white light coming from the naked bulb. Limerence sat off to one side, looking bored, while Taxi continued combing her mane disinterestedly. Swift, meanwhile, leered at Short Sell as he trotted in; he paused at the sight of her, a bird’s thigh bone poking out of the side of her mouth. “Jambalaya!” I exclaimed, trotting around the chair and sitting down with open legs. “It’s good to see you!” The girl’s face lit up and she darted forward into the hug. “Crusada! Dey be sayin’ ye back! I and I be fearful ye dies out in de dark and wild!” “Yeah, your mother said something similar. Why do they have you on ‘guard’ duty in here?” I asked. “I’d have thought with your mother back on her hooves she’d want you out there.” The young Aroyo let out a soft grumble, her cheeks coloring. “I and I...be...be bein’ punished…” she mumbled. “Punished is a strong word,” Tourniquet said, cooly. “Miss Wisteria simply wants you safe. Getting inebriated and stumbling around the magical waste zone is not a ‘safe’ activity.” Jambalaya glared up at the darkness overhead. “I and I had booties on!” “Drunkenly covering your hooves in duct tape isn’t an accepted method of avoiding magical contamination.” “Sounds like a heck of a week. Too bad I’ve got to burn time with this waste of skin,—” I gestured towards Short Sell who jerked up with an indignant snort. “—or I might be inclined to come have a drink with you. You want to stick around for this?” She cast a look over her shoulder at the banker and gave him a crooked grin. “Aye! I and I be fine watchin’ dis one squeal like a wee piggy.” “If you were intent on killing me, I sincerely doubt you’d have kept me alive this long,” Short Sell snapped, though I thought I could detect a hint of fear in his voice. “I’ve been stuck in this pit for weeks now. If you need information, though, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. I know lots of things about the goings on in this city...” I took a few steps back behind the chair to make some room, ignoring him. “Jambalaya, would you mind?” “Gladly says I!” the Aroyo replied. Her horn lit up and the hefty stallion was ripped off his hooves, flailing at the carpet as she lifted him over into the seat. “Now then! Mister Short Sell. I’m...going to admit a thing. You’re right. We’re not going to kill you,” I said, trotting around to sit in front of him as he tried, unsuccessfully, to recover his dignity, smoothing his mane and wiping a bit of drool off his chin. “I could threaten you right now, but...honestly, the ponies around you are so dangerous that any threat would be overkill. Negotiating is impossible. Whatever you could offer me I couldn’t accept, because the only thing you want is your freedom and you’ll only have that after a lengthy prison sentence. There’s no authority for you to appeal to besides that pegasus sitting there beside you.” He peered back at Swift who casually snapped the thigh bone she’d been gnawing in two, spitting half of it onto her hoof so she could suck the marrow out of the other. Sell swallowed, softly. “So, what’d you bring me up here for?” he asked. “You’ve got nothing to offer and I’ve got no reason to help you.” “Actually...I’m going to appeal to your better nature,” I replied, cheerfully. Short Sell blinked a few times, his jowls jiggling as he tried to figure where I might be going with this. “You’re the pony they call ‘Crusader’, aren’t you?” he asked after a brief consideration. “I remember from the Temple. Had a hat and coat then, but it’s you, isn’t it?” “That’s right.”         “Some kinda cop?”         “Right again.”         Shifting his broad hips in the chair, he crossed his hooves, dropping into a low street twang that I hadn’t heard in years. “I’m a member of a sex cult that regularly screwed and plucked every kind of creature you ever met and probably a few you ain’t. Didn’t know that nutty bitch Skylark was murderin’ em, but I knew they weren’t exactly in their right minds. Won’t matter to the judge, though, if I ever stand in front of one. I did it and I paid for it cuz there wasn’t anything else worth doing in this disgusting burg. What makes you think I’ve got a ‘better nature’?” Taxi set her comb down and sighed. “Hardy, this guy is a sleaze. Are you sure you don’t want me to...you know—” She wiggled the tip of her toe at his neck. “No worries, Sweets. He’s going to tell me what we want to know, because the alternative is death.” Short Sell’s eyes widened a little and he blurted, “I thought you said you weren’t going to kill me!” “I’m not,” I replied, then held my hooves out to my friends. “None of these ponies are going to hurt you. Not even those ponies upstairs. Nobody here is going to harm a hair on your head. Besides...it’s not even your death I’m worried about.” His confusion deepened and I got the impression Short Sell wasn’t a pony who enjoyed a puzzle. “Just what are you playing at here?” he demanded. I strolled in a slow circle around his chair, letting my tail drag around his chins. He drew them up out of the way as I stopped behind him, trying to tilt his head back to see what I was doing. I settled my hooves on his flabby shoulders. “Short Sell, I want to ask you a personal question and you should think carefully before you answer it.” He said nothing, his beady little eyes hopping from one of my companions to the next, then back to me. “What… do you care about?” I asked, softly. “Why in Tartarus should I tell you, cop?” “Oh, you don’t need to,” I murmured in his ear in a voice just above a whisper. Leaning forward, I let my weight settle on him a little, holding him in place. He smelled like prison soap and flop sweat. “I just wanted your mind turning over those things you care about. I want you thinking about them real carefully. Maybe you just care about yourself, but...somehow, I doubt it. There’s something, somewhere, that you love.” He tried to shake me off, but I was stronger, so he settled for hunching away from me. Still, I could see him starting to consider my words, still wondering where I might be going with all of this. For that matter, Swift and Limerence were both looking bemused, too. “Now, Short Sell...you have that thing you love firmly in your mind?” I asked, narrowing one eye at him. His face told me he had. “Good! Think on that thing. Think of how you adore it...and now I want you to think of your frozen, preserved corpse clutching it on a ball of icy, lifeless rock until the end of time. Just lock that image in your head.”         The defiant look in his eyes wavered for a moment, then hardened. “What the deuce are you going on about?”         Stepping back from him, I casually ran a hoof through his greasy mane, leaving it disheveled. “Me? Nothing. Just making conversation. On the other hoof, the prison—that little disembodied voice who has been making sure you are fed and comfortable—predicts that the entirety of Equestria will be dead inside of five months. Everything. All life. You. Me. Every living thing, frozen to death.” “Actually, Detective, at current rates of cooling it may be more like four and a half months. Temperatures haven’t really begun to drop precipitously, yet.” “Thank you, Tourniquet,” I said, moving around in front of Short Sell. I sat down in front of him again. “Now...are you seeing that thing you love, Mister Short Sell?” Funny thing about fear. Most ponies, for being such an olfactory species, don’t think about how they smell terribly often. Civilization beats it into your brain that you soap and deodorize, but when a pony is afraid there’s a scent that goes with it. It’s an acrid tang, and it comes out in sweat and tears. Fear comes in lots of flavors, but there’s a difference between the scent of worry and mortal terror. I inhaled deep, and I knew then that I’d found my lever. His nod was barely perceptible, but it was there, and that’s all I needed. “If you want somepony to stop the death of this world, so maybe one day, you see that thing you love again, then you’re going to answer some questions. If you do, I can promise I’ll do my damndest to make sure you live to see that judge. I’ll stand up there beside you and say ‘Here was one pony who cared enough that even though he is a monster, doomed and damned, he still fought to save what he loved’.” “Y-you’ll do that?” he stammered, looking up at me with what was probably the first real vestige of hope he’d felt in awhile. . “Damn skippy. First things first, though. Gotta save that world.” His gaze hardened a little. “What makes you think you can? You’ve got no idea what sort of people will want your head for killing Skylark…” “But you do...and I’m betting they promised you some things. For instance! Somepony, somewhere, was passing out invitations to a big ’ol bash in Uptown and it seems like the invitees were financially savvy colts and fillies happy to contribute to making sure nopony looked at certain things too closely. I want to know what your part was.” Short Sell closed his eyes and his breathing hitched for a moment, then he replied, “It was one of about four hundred bits of mail we get every week, ‘cept the secretaries always let these through. Funny little yellow envelope, high end stationary, and four dots side by side connected with lines in the upper corner.” I glanced at Swift and she already had her notepad out, scribbling away. Sell continued, “Them envelopes always come with something special. Some little instruction, then a reward. Never nothing too big. Make sure this pony gets audited or that pony catches a cold on such and such day, then a suggestion to throw money in some investment account that just ‘happens’ to double or triple in value two weeks later.” “What did the particular envelope say?” I asked, keenly. “That’s what was funny. This one says ‘In the event of national disaster, we’ll keep you safe. Head to Uptown.’ That was it. It come in about six months ago, but there was no instructions or nothing.” Limerence let out a snort of derision. “I can understand the gangers we’ve come across who’ve received these notes taking them seriously, but...you’re a business pony. I find it odd that you would simply take such advice on faith, without trying to find out where it is coming from.” “Believe me, you decide you’re going to ignore that first note, then find yourself missing out on enough bits to buy yourself a new summer home when the trade market opens on Monday, you start taking them seriously. Then you hear from a few ponies in important places that they’ve been getting similar notes, and it ain’t a matter of ‘serious’ no more. It’s survival. Once something becomes a matter of survival, you stop asking questions.” “Survival?” Swift asked, scratching her head. “How is a bunch of dumb investments survival?” Short Sell gave her a look like she was something he scraped off his hoof. “You obviously never been rich before, kid. It ain’t all shows and dances. Half the time all you’re doing is trying to fend of every other rich bastard below you.” “My family has money—” she started to say, but he cut her off. “No, they don’t. Not real money. Real money is more than just a number. It’s an idea. If I had enough, I could kill damn near anypony I liked, in public, and smile as everypony on the street took big wads of cash to forget about it. If I had enough money, they might not even believe it was me. They’d think it was a hoax! Get me? Real money is immunity.” “You don’t look very ‘immune’ to me,” Taxi murmured, sweeping a hoof at the ceiling. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly rich at the moment, now am I? You wanna be rich, you gotta make sure every other prick in the game is playing by the rules. Somepony breaks the rules...or worse, breaks the game...and then you’re all up the same shitty little river.” “And that’s what they’ve done, isn’t it? They broke the game,” I said, considering our situation for another moment. “Whoever set all of this up has corralled the entirety of Detrot’s elite into the center of the city, behind an impenetrable shield and left the rest of us to freeze to death out here.” Short Sell’s jaw clenched and I could tell that whatever question he had was going to cost him some ego. “You. Crusader. Whatever the blast your name is. I’m betraying people who probably eat their dinners with the bones of their enemies for tableware, so I want to know; what are you going to do?”