The Feather of Fire

by nerothewizard

Chapter 10

Daring Do squinted against the glare of the tiny bulb that lit the tiny interrogation room. Her eyes narrowed as its incandescence glowed on, unfeeling and cold, giving the room an ambiance that was both depressing and soulless. Three plain, uninteresting gray walls were to her sides and behind her, and another wall of the same color, its featureless face interrupted by both a matching door and a sheet of glass Daring knew to be a two-way mirror, completed the cell-like room. The chair in which she sat was metal, with no cushion, and cold against her rump, and the faux wooden table that sat before her was plain, lacking any defining characteristics aside from its dull, dark brown finish. The twin to her current seating arrangement stared back at her from across the boring furniture, looking just as uncomfortable as hers. Lacking anything else to focus on, to take her mind off the evening's earlier events, Daring had resorted to a staring contest with the light bulb that was suspended over the middle of the table. It didn't seem likely she was going to win.

After a spirited battle, Daring finally turned her gaze away from the searing light, blinking rapidly. Circles of color swirled in her vision, but even the presence of those splotches of light that danced behind her eyelids and glowed briefly every time her eyes shut was not enough to make the room any more interesting. She inhaled deeply, then let out an elongated sigh as the spherical lights finally dissipated, allowing her to view the confined space in which she had been thrown with clarity once more. She quickly turned her face back up toward the bulb, desperate for another go.

Truth be told, her competition with the light source was a welcome distraction, given the way the rest of her night had gone. Once the police had arrived on the scene to find her sitting next to two unconscious ponies, a few stray tears leaving their marks on her cheeks, the officers had been all questions. While understandable, it had quickly become an annoyance when she realized that their lines of questioning seemed to indicate that she was a suspect. Her belligerence had not helped matters, and despite giving her version of what had transpired in front of the decrepit apartment building, she had been taken to the station for more questions. Her unceremonious deposit in this tiny, cramped room was further proof that the keepers of the law were not keen to believe her story.

And then there was the matter of Annals. The mysterious purple-clad pony that had leaped in to stop Daring's would-be assailants had explicitly told her that her professor friend had been murdered that very night, but when she posed the question to the police, all she had received were suspicious looks and inquisitions. When she'd had time to think back, Daring came to the conclusion that speculating about the murder of somepony else was not a wise thing to bring up when discovered at a crime scene with two ponies who were out cold, but the unresolved issue of the truth about Annals still weighed on her mind. The absence of police presence in the room with her only allowed the mysterious mare's revelations to stew in Daring's already-addled brain, and she was trying her very best to use the staring match with the light bulb as a way to suppress the emotion that had been building steadily inside her for the last half-hour as she sat in the cold, unwelcoming room, waiting for yet another police pony to trot in and accuse her of something.

Anger.

The door swung open with a creak that grated on Daring's ears. She tore her eyes away from the bulb – it was on an incredible winning streak, and unlikely to relinquish its crown in the foreseeable future – and watched as an unfamiliar middle-aged mare in a Manehattan police pony's uniform entered the room, the officer's slow gait and drooping eyelids an indication of the effects of the late hour. With a poorly-stifled yawn, the mare took a seat opposite Daring and turned to the pegasus, her mouth opening as though to pose a question. Daring had been waiting long enough. “What took you so long?” she snapped; some part of her mind told her to tone down the aggression, but it was quickly shouted down.

The uniformed mare snapped back as though she'd been slapped. “Miss Do, I'm not sure if you're aware, but any investigation we conduct involves a great deal of paperwork, and this department is responsible for a very active portion of the city. Yours is not the only incident that occurred tonight.”

Daring's voice was dripping with bile. “I know that. One of my best friends was murdered, officer Who-Gives-A-Buck, and I almost was! I'd say that should take precedence over some unpaid parking tickets.”

The officer's eyes narrowed, and Daring could see that she was doing her very best to remain calm. “First of all, my name is Officer Beat. Second, I am very sorry for your loss, Miss Do, and I assure you the police are doing everything in their power to uncover the truth surrounding the death of Professor Annals. Let me remind you, the autopsy report has yet to be finalized by the medical examiner, so until we hear his findings-”

“I know, I know, keep my theories to myself, just like the last guy said,” Daring said with a dismissive wave. Every little thing about this conversation was ratcheting up her level of fury. I was assaulted, for Celestia's sake! And Annals was killed, I'm sure of it! How can these not be related? With great restraint, she kept her mouth closed and merely stared daggers at the tired pony across the table.

“Thank you,” said the officer in a tone that showed no gratitude whatsoever. She produced a pad and pen from her uniform and continued in a much quieter voice, “Now, could you please tell me exactly what happened again?”

Daring's hoof rose to her face and struck her forehead, and she sighed in exasperation. Better my face than hers, she thought quickly as she regained a small measure of composure. “I already told the other officer everything. Why do you need me to tell you too?” In a voice she hoped was quiet enough to avoid detection, she added, “Not like we haven't wasted enough time already.”

Either Beat didn't hear her, or she chose to ignore the snide statement. “New evidence has come to light, Miss Do, and we need you to corroborate something. Now, specifically, why don't you tell me about the strange pony that you say 'swooped in to save you'?”

Daring's night had been full of so many curiosities that she had trouble keeping track of them all, but one event she could remember quite vividly was her encounter with...Mare-Do-Well, was it? At the officer's behest, she began a detailed description of her incapacitation at the hooves of her attackers – despite her best efforts to the contrary – and the subsequent arrival of the pony in purple who had shown impressive strength and athletic prowess in her disposal of the two hooded figures. Even telling the story a second time, she found the very words pouring out of her mouth difficult to believe, but she had witnessed nearly the whole thing with her own eyes. When she reached the section of the story where the mysterious mare had shared her rather troubling information, the officer seemed more intent and focused, but Daring felt a fresh upwelling of sadness when she retold how the news of Annals' demise had been shared with her. She shook her head and cast her sorrow aside. As she came to the conclusion of her tale, in which the masked hero beat her hasty retreat at the sound of the sirens, Daring felt her anger subside slightly. She looked at the other pony in the small room, her curiosity piquing as she asked, “Why did I need to tell you all that again?”

The officer, who had been writing in her notepad during Daring's story, looked up from her scribblings and said, “As I said earlier, we've received some new evidence. Officers in the Flora Park district interviewed Annals' wife Lea after she discovered his body, and after speaking with them, we've uncovered something rather...interesting.” Beat flipped to the front page of her notepad. “It seems that there may be more than one link between these two crimes, Miss Do,” the uniformed pony said as she scanned the paper, finally tapping her hoof as she found what she wanted. “Apparently, she heard noises in her house just before she found Annals, and she caught a glimpse of a pony out her back door.”

“Aha!” shouted Daring, startling the other mare out of her speech. “So he was murdered!”

The officer raised a hoof. “Calm down, Miss Do.” Daring shut her mouth, the fire of frustration beginning to rise once again in her heart. “She saw the pony for only an instant,” continued the uniformed mare, “but she told us one curious detail: it wore a cape.”

A knot formed in Daring's throat for a moment, but she swallowed to clear her airway and asked, “And what does that have to do with me?”

“Our officers searched the area,” said Beats, her tone deadpan. “In the rosebushes on the edge of Annals' property, they found a small fragment of fabric, apparently torn from the outfit of the pony or ponies who fled from the house. This sample was colored purple, just like the uniform you described on the mare that supposedly took out your assailants.”

Suddenly, Daring found it very difficult to breathe. The words of the mysterious costumed mare from earlier in the evening came flooding back to her, a startling suspicion accompanying the memories. She knew my name...she knew who I was there to meet...how did she know where I would be in the first place? The pegasus' jaw lowered slowly, her mouth agape in what was surely a ridiculous look. Right now, concerns about her visage were the least of her worries as her mind worked through the rest of her conversation with Mare-Do-Well. She said that Annals was killed, but she never said by whom. Could it have been...

She shook her head violently, trying to settle her thoughts. As the newly-divulged information still swirled around her brain, she said the first thing that came tumbling out of her mouth: “What?”

The officer's tone was businesslike, betraying next to no emotion. “The forensic evidence, at least initially, seems to suggest that whatever happened to Annals and your incident in the Southern District may both revolve around the pony who 'saved' you. Honestly, nobody in the department took you seriously when you testified that your rescuer was dressed in such a ridiculous get-up, but with this new evidence, looks like it's possible. Obviously, our investigation is still in the early stages, but I admit, this seems too strange to be a coincidence.”

Daring nodded numbly, her mind taking its time processing all she had just heard. The arrival of the costumed pony had certainly been timely, jumping in to take down her attackers just before something truly disastrous had transpired. A voice laced with doubt crept into Daring's subconscious. It's almost too convenient. Smells an awful lot like a setup.

But she knocked those two hooded ponies out cold! Are you saying that was just part of a setup?

They did seem to go down awfully easily. And the other ran off without even putting up a fight. Don't tell me that's not suspicious.

I saw the terror in his eyes.

That can be faked.

Her internal argument was interrupted by the police mare's concerned voice. “Miss Do?”

Even though a sea of emotions was churning in Daring's consciousness, and all manner of wild theories were being posed by her tired brain, the pegasus answered, “Sorry, I'm all right. Just very strange, is all. It's been a...crazy night.”

For the first time since arriving in the room, Officer Beat managed a soft smile. Daring imagined that it would have looked pleasant or comforting if the setting had been less imposing. Beat said, “I imagine it has.” She scooped up her stationery and writing instrument and placed them back inside her uniform, then continued as she rose to her feet, “Well, I'd say we're done here. There's no reason for us to hold you any longer, but if something else comes up, we'll be sure to contact you.” The mare trotted to the door and opened it, stepping through into the hallway beyond. “Would you like a police escort back to your home?” she asked, turning her head back toward the pegasus.

Before Daring could answer, another pony came into view behind the officer, a young unicorn stallion with glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and a file floating in front of his face, lit by the same green glow that emanated from his horn. His eyes fixated on the information before him, he said, “Beat, I got that autopsy report you wanted.” He looked up, ready to continue his speech, but stopped short when he caught sight of Daring, who was watching from the interrogation room, having just risen from her chair. “Oh, sorry,” he stammered, “didn't know you weren't done. I'll come back.”

Daring's eyes widened, and she raised a hoof as the newcomer began to turn away. “Wait!” she shouted, the sound ricocheting harshly through the confined space of the bland room. Both ponies in the hall looked at the pegasus, and satisfied that she had his attention, Daring addressed the stallion, trying not to sound desperate in spite of her rapid heart rate. “Is that the report for Professor Annals?”

The unicorn looked dumbfounded as he fumbled out a response. “How did you...who are...”

Beat attempted to calm the eloquent stallion with a hoof on his shoulder. “It's okay, Sever. She's a friend of the victim.” Her smile from earlier returned, and Daring felt her anger from earlier all but disappear. “I think she has a right to know the truth.”

The unicorn stared blankly at the uniformed mare for a moment, then exclaimed, “Oh! Of course, the results.” Using his magic, in one swift motion, he opened the file and pushed his glasses up towards his eyes. After clearing his throat, he began, “The cause of death was cardiac arrest, likely due to shock induced by extreme stress. The coroner uncovered no evidence of foul play: no bruising, no traces of anything in his blood or organs, no fresh scrapes or cuts.” He looked up from the paper and added, “Looks like it was a heart attack.”

Clearly, Daring's anger had not yet disappeared entirely, because her shout was loud enough to cause both the mare and the stallion in the hallway to flinch. “A heart attack?! How can that be it?!”

Sever struggled to formulate an answer, but managed, “That's what the medical examiner found, miss.”

Beat's smile was gone as she spoke in a firm tone to the suddenly-hostile pegasus. “Calm down, Miss Do. Please keep your voice low.”

Daring gritted her teeth, seething. “Sorry,” she said with a growl. “I'm fine.” She quickly exited the room, brushing past both the affronted police mare and the stallion, then turned back and said, “Oh, and officer, I won't need any police escorts. I can take care of myself.” Without awaiting a response, Daring resumed her brisk trot out of the station, avoiding eye contact with any of the ponies that she encountered in the halls. None of their faces even registered to the incensed pegasus; the only thoughts that occupied her mind were about Annals and the mysterious mare in purple. A heart attack? She said he was murdered!

The voice of doubt made its return. Even more evidence that she wasn't telling the truth. Based on what the police found and the fact that she lied about Annals, it's looking more and more certain that she had something to do with it.

This time, Daring did nothing to quell the suspicions that stirred inside her. Her fury had returned full force, and she found herself pouring every ounce of hatred into a list of reasons why the mysterious mare who had so suddenly come out of the night and “dispatched her attackers” was guilty of some heinous crime. As she flung blind accusation after blind accusation at the faceless pony, a knot began to form in her heart, almost unnoticed by the irate pegasus. Finally, after her mind had managed to squeeze the pony in purple into a position in the evening's events that Daring wouldn't have thought even remotely feasible not an hour ago, her overactive mind came to a full stop.

Daring stopped walking, vaguely aware that she was on the sidewalk less than two blocks away from the Manehattan police station. A single thought drove out any other information that may have lingered in her consciousness, including her whereabouts. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, and she made no effort to quell their advances as her entire cognitive process focused on a single subject.

“Annals.” Her voice was a whisper, choked out amidst the continued assault of tears. She'd wept after her assault that night, but those tears had been a result of many things, mostly as a means of relieving her troubled mind after the attack by the three mysterious ponies. Amidst the flurry of questions, the seemingly endless wait in the interrogation room, and the conversations that had contained strange revelation after strange revelation, she had not yet taken the opportunity to mourn. Now, as she stood on the lamp-lit street, surrounded only by faceless buildings and cold asphalt, her sorrow poured out of her freely, evidenced by the twin streaks of moisture that ran down her cheeks and onto her chin, only to plummet to the cold sidewalk below. Her body heaved and twitched with each wracking sob, and her breath came in gasps as the full weight of her friend's death came to bear on her shoulders, seeping into her body and clutching at her heart and lungs with crushing force. Her golden yellow head drooped down as the crying continued, her greyscale mane concealing her face. If anypony walked by, she didn't notice them, and they said nothing to her.

The vision of Annals' face from earlier in the day returned to Daring as she sobbed. Every memory of his kindness, his quirks, and his love for their shared profession streamed through her brain like a film reel, and her tears gradually subsided as she relived each moment spent with her dear friend, from their first meeting on the campus grounds to their discussions about the figurine from the Zebrabwe desert. Daring's thoughts paused as she came back to the subject of the strange artifact, as they had done so often in the two months since its discovery. Annals' words of wisdom to her concerning the mysterious pegasus came floating back through her subconscious, and she could almost hear his soft voice as he spoke to her, his eyes heavy with lack of sleep but still filled with concern for Daring: “You mustn't let it overtake you so.”

The pegasus sniffed, the last of her tears dropping from her face to join the thin puddle that decorated the sidewalk beneath her, and she wiped the residual moisture from her eyes and cheeks with a foreleg. When she found her voice, it was no more than a whisper. “I'll try, professor. Thank you.” She raised her head slowly to see that she was still alone on the street. Daring scanned the asphalt in either direction, looking for signs of an oncoming cab; she saw none. With a sigh and one final sniffle, she reared back and spread her wings wide, leaping off the sidewalk and into the air in one swift motion.

In order to cut down on incidents involving flying criminals, the Manehattan police kept a strict policy that all flying in the downtown areas of the city had to occur below the ten-story mark, and at least a token air force was maintained by the city in order to enforce that ordinance. As a result, instead of simply ascending above the skyscrapers and winging it in a straight line back to her house, Daring, more out of habit than anything else, remained at a comfortable cruising altitude as she soared above the quiet city streets. Only a few vehicles passed underneath the pegasus during the entirety of her flight home. At last, she arrived in her neighborhood, and with a quick flutter of her wings, Daring descended to the pavement in front of her house. Her porch light shone brightly in the night as she trotted to her front door and opened it with her key. She closed her front door and was met with the darkness of her unlit interior. Unfazed by the darkness, the pegasus reached over to the wall and flipped the switch, blinking once as the once-black room was now bathed in light from the ceiling. Daring let out a sustained yawn as she ventured further into her house, her steps slow and measured to compensate for her tiredness. The hour had certainly grown late, and her overburdened mind was ready to rest, or at least make a valiant attempt to do so.

She raised a hoof to open her bedroom door, but froze when she heard a voice from behind her. This was not just a strange voice echoing through her house, however; this was a voice that triggered very recent memories in her mind, none of which were exceptionally pleasant. A chill that was equal parts fright and fury ran down Daring's spine as the words that the disembodied voice spoke drifted to her perked-up ears, a short and simple sentence that shook the pegasus to her core.

“So, Miss Do, we meet again.”

Comments

[nerothewizard]

I have to apologize for the lateness of this update; I have no real excuses other than a busy schedule and time spent on some other projects (as well as copious amounts of Diablo 3). I hope you all enjoy chapter 10, and expect more regular additions in the future.

[ThatAw3someBr0ny]

no No NO!!!. Youre not supposed to post a comment!!! You only write those things in the story itself to give other people the right to have first post!!! I was going to make it, but you took it away... Just like that *sniffle*... how could you?...

[ThatAw3someBr0ny]

Lol jk. Great chapter by the way. And HOLY SHIT CHAPTER 11 IS ALREADY HERE!!!!!

[Borg]

a sheet of glass Daring knew to be a two-way mirror, completed the cell-like room.

Why do "two-way mirror" and "one-way mirror" mean the same thing? The entire point of the product is an asymmetry relative to direction, so what's "two-way" about it? Though, of course, strictly speaking the asymmetry is a property of the rooms on either side of it, but if English were so concerned with accuracy we wouldn't say "the sun rises." Does "two-way" refer to how some of the light incident on the glass is reflected and some is transmitted? That might explain it, I guess. And it's actually referring to a property of the mirror.

A heart attack? She said he was murdered!

The voice of doubt made its return. Even more evidence that she wasn't telling the truth. Based on what the police found and the fact that she lied about Annals, it's looking more and more certain that she had something to do with it.

I'll point out that you appear to be reasoning "Mare-Do-Well said Annals was murdered, but he wasn't, so she's not trustworthy, so perhaps she was his murderer." Understandable that you wouldn't be in top consistency-checking form at the moment, with all that's happened, but I figured I should tell you. I'd want to be set straight if I were you.