Loony

by totallynotabrony

4: Blowing Up

Arc was almost home when his phone rang. There were laws against taking a call while driving, but at least he already had the phone set in a hooves-free holder. He tapped the screen. “This is Arc.”

“It’s Tammy. You need to get to the south entrance of the Navy base.”

Arc frowned. He saw the street where he would turn to go home. Instead, he used the intersection to turn his car around. To Tammy, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“There was an attempted gate crashing. It was a car bomb.”

Arc’s teeth clenched. That was something that happened in far away foreign countries, not here at home. He asked, “Do we know who did it?”

“No details yet,” Tammy said. “That’s why you need to go investigate. You’re nearby and you know something about explosives. Granite will meet you there with credentials. I’ll forward the address to you.”

Arc thanked her for the information, if not the tasking. Tammy hung up.

All the way to the base, Arc gathered his thoughts, bringing to mind everything he knew about improvised explosives. His job in the Army mostly involved precise, targeted demolition. Occasionally he'd been called to destroy enemy weapons. He may not have been a forensics expert, but he was confident in his ability to add something to the investigation.

Unfortunately, it meant he wouldn't be home for dinner. He touched his phone again, calling Roxy. There were three rings but no answer. Arc left a short message. It wasn't the first time work had kept them apart.

Heading to the base, Arc tried to remember the layout. The south gate was near the piers for smaller ships like destroyers. Had they been the target?

The crowd of emergency and law enforcement vehicles around the gate made the street impassable when Arc arrived. He left his car at a nearby farrier shop and walked closer.

Granite met him before anypony asked what Arc was doing there. The older stallion was wearing a Navy Investigator hat and carried a badge on a cord around his neck. He had the same items for Arc to wear, plus an identification card with his picture on it. Arc wondered how such a fake had been put together so quickly.

“What’s the situation?” Arc asked him, getting outfitted.

“A car showed up to the gate and the driver got out instead of pulling through. It was a gryphon. He started to fly away and just then the car exploded.”

“What was the point?” Arc asked. “Any follow up by another group once the gate was penetrated?”

“No idea. Some Shade somewhere is probably working on a motive. Here on scene it’s up to us to gather evidence.” Granite turned to survey the gate and the wrecked guardhouse. Pieces of metal and concrete were strewn about. The car, what was left of it, sat in a smoldering heap in the middle of the street. Medical ponies were tending to the wounded.

Granite turned back to Arc. “Go talk to the guards that were on duty at the time, those that are still alive.”

“What about the evidence?” Arc asked.

“It's not going anywhere.”

“What about the driver? You said he was a gryphon?”

“The guards shot him.”

“There goes some testimony,” muttered Arc.

“Not necessarily,” Granite said. Without another word, he moved away. Arc turned towards the gate.

He showed his fake badge and ID. They were apparently very good fakes. The armed sailors guarding the area scrutinized them carefully and let him through. After the attack, the guards had to be on edge and Arc noticed that the safeties were off on their assault rifles.

There wasn’t much left of the car, but more of the front remained than the rear. That indicated a trunk bomb, which was not uncommon. Simply putting the bomb in the trunk instead of hiding it elsewhere might also indicate that the builder had never intended for it to sneak by security, instead targeting the gate itself.

Again, there was the question of motive. The timing was unusual, as there were fewer ponies around to attack in the late afternoon. There were also far more valuable things on base to damage than the gate. Was the intent to force traffic to another gate? With more ponies clustered there, would there be another attack soon?

The base security team should already be considering all possibilities. Arc shook his head and went on with his job.

EMTs from the city and medics from the base were tending to the wounded. Most urban bases had emergency service sharing agreements with the local city. It was too bad that it had been put to the test.

Arc managed to get time with a few of the sailors, but he learned little that he didn’t already know. The car had pulled up, the driver departed, and then the explosion.

He shifted his attention to the remains of the car. The gasoline had caused a fire, and soot blanketed much of the area. Water the firefighting crews had poured on it had dampened the road and spread the grime everywhere.

Smaller pieces of metal and other debris were scattered around the twisted remains of the car. Arc was careful not to interfere with any of them. He had nothing with which to collect samples, but that was best left to somepony with access to a mass spectrometer for testing chemicals. Distorted timeframes presented by CSI: Mareami aside, a modern electronic mass spectrometer could actually produce results fairly quickly–especially if they already knew they were looking for explosives.

He saw Granite over by an ambulance. There was a sheet on the ground, covering something lumpy. Some blood had begun to seep through the sheet and the tips of two broad raptor wings were splayed out.

Granite sat close by, a look of deep concentration on his face. The paramedics that stood around appeared to be giving him odd stares.

As Arc approached, Granite got up. He turned and met Arc a few steps from the body.

“Is that the driver?” Arc asked.

Granite nodded. “He’s not talking.”

“He’s dead.” Arc thought that was quite obvious.

Granite gave him a look and then glanced at the crowd of ponies standing around. He tilted his head for Arc to follow and the two of them walked away.

“Did anypony ever tell you about ghosts?” Granite asked.

“No.” Arc had only learned about lycans a few years previously. He was still learning. Not every creature from pop culture was real, and not every real creature was a feature in pop culture. There wasn’t exactly an encyclopedia for everything from the underworld.

“Not everypony becomes a ghost when they die,” Granite said. “There are things I can do to speak to the dead regardless, but not here in public.”

Arc shifted his pace a little to put a little more distance between the two of them. “So…what do you talk about with dead ponies, or in this case, gryphons?”

“Well, in this case I’d ask him why he did it and who he was working for. It would sure as Tartarus make the investigation easier.”

“Have you done a lot of these?” Arc asked.

Granite shrugged. “I would say too many, but I get results so they keep sending me.”

Arc thought for a moment. “Speaking of Shades, why are we here? It was a car bomb, not a zombie outbreak or something.”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Granite said. “Buttercup, locked in her cell, was aware of the attack. She mentioned it to Market Outlook. That’s reason enough.”

“She knew?” Arc frowned. “When I was talking to her the other day, Harvest Peach said she was thinking about RDX, an explosive.”

“I know him.” Granite nodded. “What she thought could be related.”

Arc wondered if this could have been prevented. If they’d just gotten more information from Buttercup, maybe the car bomb would never have been detonated.

Granite was apparently thinking the same thing, however he appeared to be doing a better job of hiding his emotions. Arc wondered how long he would have to work this job to develop the same control.

Outside the crime scene, Arc took off his badge. There was a brief sparkle of magic and it changed to a different design. This one had a lighthouse flanked by the sun and moon.

Granite saw Arc looking. “It’s an multipurpose fake badge. Maybe they’ll give you one.”

The two of them parted ways. Neither had managed to find very much on their own, but some Shade would get them access to the official reports of the incident.

Arc kept the false credentials, just in case. They were not fancy magical multipurpose, but they could come in handy again in the future. He stowed them in the glove box of his car and drove home. Between the extra travel time and investigating the scene, he was hours later than normal.

At the house, Roxy had spent the afternoon and early evening worrying. That was out of the ordinary for her. Becoming a lycan and being granted all the superequine abilities that came with it had been a tremendous boost to her self confidence, but between the fight with Buttercup and seeing the attack at the base on TV, she needed a little time to come to grips.

She didn’t know any sailors stationed in San Palomino, but it was a disturbing fact that the bomb could have been planted at MWB, or at any base Arc had been during his career in the Army. Worse, right in the thick of the action was where her husband had probably gone, based on the voicemail message he’d left her.

Then again, she was probably overreacting. This was nothing like the year-long deployment when Arc had gone to Camelstan. Roxy would see him tonight.

She picked out some ingredients to begin dinner. Guessing Arc would be late, she decided to take the time to prepare Vegetable Wellington. While there were no leeks in the refrigerator, she doubted Arc would miss them.

After preparing the veggies and pastry, Roxy placed it in the oven. As she washed up, her calico cat, Dinah, came into the room.

The cat had been a college companion of Roxy’s and had willingly been adopted by Arc when he and Roxy moved in together. Dinah was getting older now, but was still more than spry enough to leap to the counter.

Roxy dried her hooves and gave the cat a friendly rub behind the ears. She opened the fridge and took out a small package of chicken liver that she’d gotten from the international grocery store. Dinah always appreciated a treat.

Unwrapping the package, she placed it on a plate. Dinah happily dove in. Roxy chuckled. “Not going to wait for me?” She opened the fridge to get a piece of leftover bread. Dinah made room for her to dip the bread in the liver leavings.

The two of them enjoyed the snack in silence. Blood was not the kind of thing Roxy went out of her way to consume, but as a lycan she rationalized the flavor as something she should not be afraid of. Besides, common foodborne pathogens didn’t seem to work on her anymore.

After Dinah had licked the plate clean, Roxy rinsed it. She checked the oven and curled up in a chair to read the newspaper. After forty-five minutes, dinner was done–and smelled great!—but Arc still had not arrived.

Roxy transferred the Wellington to the counter to cool. She thought about calling Arc, but he was probably busy. His schedule with the Army had sometimes been erratic, and she told herself that she should be used to it.

She sat down in front of the TV and flipped through some channels. The evening news was over before Arc arrived.

Roxy was waiting at the door to the garage when he came in. She gave him a smile and pulled him close for a kiss. He accepted the gesture gratefully.

They stood close for a moment before Roxy pulled back with a concerned look. “What happened?”

“There was a bomb at the Navy base. Apparently Buttercup knew something about it.” Arc paused, his eyes focusing on her cheek. “What happened to you?”

Roxy waved a hoof. “Oh, Buttercup hit me.”

Arc touched her withers, his hoof moving to the side of her face. “Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing. It’ll probably be gone by morning.”

It was true that Roxy didn’t keep bruises for very long; they both knew that minor injuries disappeared as if by magic. Still, she could tell that Arc was concerned.

Attempting to take his mind off of it, Roxy led him towards the kitchen. She began to reheat dinner. Continuing the conversation, she said, “How could Buttercup know about the bomb? She’s been locked up for the last few days, and she wouldn’t plan something like that during her good time of the month.”

“I don’t know, but I’d say that it certainly proves she’s guilty of something.” Arc opened the cabinet to retrieve place settings, although his eyes didn’t leave Roxy’s face for more than a few seconds.

“That may be, but her giving herself up shows that at least half of her wants to change.”

Arc snorted. “If that's so, why did she wait all these years to do something? I think good is a relative term when it comes to that mare.”

Roxy's eyes narrowed, and she crossed her forelegs. “I’m going to try to figure out what makes both sides of her tick, and I’m going to have to visit again.”

Arc paused in what he was doing and gave her a look. “Really?”

Even though Roxy’s pony body didn’t have effective hackles, she felt a prickle on the back of her neck. “I’ll certainly be more careful next time. But no one can make progress with Buttercup if they don’t reach out to her. Somepony has to talk to her.”

“Yeah.” Arc noticed that Roxy's lips were set in a tight slash across her muzzle. He glanced away and resumed arranging silverware. “I just wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

It was perhaps the best thing he could have said to defuse the situation before an actual argument had broken out, and they both knew it. Roxy sighed inwardly, unhappy that they had come so close in the first place. Her instincts had been ready to go full Big Bad Wife on him.

They ate dinner quietly. Arc did break the silence to give her a smile and a compliment. “It’s good.”

Roxy smiled back.

Later that evening, when they were both in bed, Roxy lay awake as Arc’s breathing grew deeper and more regular.

The two of them held different opinions on a lot of things, but Buttercup was a whole other level of controversy. Arc didn’t think it was wise to associate with a criminal, while Roxy wanted to keep searching for Buttercup’s good side.

Roxy fell asleep, still turning over the issue in her mind.

There were no crises that night and both of them slept well. In the morning, the issue had been temporarily forgotten.

Arc went out to exercise while Roxy showered. He came back sweaty and she passed the bathroom off to him. While he was cleaning up, she made breakfast.

After eating, they went out the door to work, parting with a kiss. Arc drove to MWB.

In the office, he checked his e-mail and was thinking about getting some coffee when Seabreeze appeared in the doorway of his cubicle. She didn’t cross the threshold uninvited, as was the unspoken office rule.

“Mr. Arc, do you know anything about the car bomb at the base yesterday?” she asked.

The question caught Arc by surprise, but he answered, “What makes you think I know about that?”

She shrugged. “The Navy Investigators are doing the investigation and put a call to MWB for resources. I got tapped to help. I figured that you would be a good place to start for explosives.”

Arc nodded. “I’ll send you an e-mail with my list of website resources.” He paused, an idea coming to him. “I would be interested to see what you learn. If you keep me in the loop, I might be able to help more. It’s not like I have a lot happening on a normal day.”

Seabreeze laughed. “Must be nice getting a civilian salary and leaving at noon. Okay, I’ll see what they’ll let me tell you.”

She left, and Arc considered the situation. Seabreeze had no reason to suspect his knowledge of the car bomb. Even if she had read his notebook the other day and found out about Sisal Twist, that by itself shouldn’t have tipped her to him using fake credentials to slip into the attack scene.

Arc was worried about her involvement, however he wasn’t sure if he had a good reason to be. His job was built on facts, rather than feelings. He spent a few minutes staring at his hat poster, but there were no answers to be found there.

Later that day, Arc met with Proficient and Harv. He considered bringing up his concerns about Seabreeze again, but found that the information they brought him was much more interesting.

The phone number and license plate that Joe had attributed to Sisal Twist had been processed and a related address found. It was in south Unicorado, across the bay from San Palomino. The house was located in an upscale neighborhood, despite being on the same peninsula as the naval air station, aircraft carrier piers, and amphibious training area.

Interestingly, despite being across the bay, it was within two miles as the seagull flies of where the attack had taken place. Arc wouldn’t have been surprised if the smoke was visible from the house.

“So who’s up for a trip to Unicorado?” Harv asked.

“We’re just going to go to the house of a known weapons dealer?” Arc questioned.

“We’ll be careful,” Harv assured him.

Arc looked at Proficient, who shrugged.

So they went to Unicorado. Proficient drove the three of them across the bridge to the peninsula, and then south along the boulevard that paralleled the coast.

When they arrived in the neighborhood, it was late afternoon. Proficient stopped the car a few blocks from the address. The houses in the area were all as large as their parcels allowed, shouldering against each other for room. Most had tile roofs. All had docks out back, and some were equipped with more than one boat.

Proficient popped the trunk and the three of them went around to the back of the car. There were a few NAG Sauer pistols with government serial numbers.

“Know how to use one of these?” asked Harv.

Arc gave him a look. “I can field strip it and put it back together in forty seconds. Blindfolded.”

Harv’s eyebrows went up, but he didn’t reply. He hoofed the gun over. Arc tucked the pistol under his shirt. He wished he had a jacket or something to cover it.

Arc glanced at the other thing in the trunk, the green tubular thing. They should really do something about that HU-7 instead of just carrying it around.

Proficient closed the trunk and they walked the rest of the way to the house. It was finished in white stucco with a natural clay tile roof. It was neither the biggest house on the block nor the smallest.

Arc spotted a pier behind the house. There was no vessel, but a few ropes and boat fenders were present.

Harv stopped at the front door and stared at it for several seconds before glancing up, looking at the second floor windows. He said, “I’m not getting anything. No one is home.”

The window inset in the front door was made of opaque glass and the shades were drawn on the windows.

Arc gestured to the door. “It’s too bad we don’t have any clear tape to put on the frosted glass so we could see through.”

“It wouldn’t work,” Proficient said, carefully studying the door’s window. “Most high-end applications actually put the frosting between two panes of clear class to prevent that sort of thing.”

Harv tried the doorknob and it turned without resistance. He paused, and then let go of the knob. “No way we could just get in that easily. You don’t have a house like this and forget to lock it.”

“Is it a trap?” Arc asked.

“I’m not going to open the door and find out,” replied Harv.

The three of them left the front door and headed back to the car. They hadn’t got there when the house exploded.

Comments

[Dash The Stampede]

YAY Update!

This and a TL inclusion for my fic? Tonight's pretty sweet.

Dat ending paragraph though..
Is it supposed to be so...train-of-thought? It feels like a story/chapter brainstorming list as opposed to the chapter's end.
~Dash The Stampede

[totallynotabrony]

4221231 Sorry about that. It's notes that were accidentally included. I deleted them.

[Dash The Stampede]

4221233
Ah, no biggie, just making sure you didn't mis-post.
And keeping spoilers secret

~Dash The Stampede

[metallusionsismagic]

Yaaay, more continuity universes!
1:

“Hang on,” said Arc. “What am I supposed to do with this missile launcher?”

Comma instead?

At the same time, but on the other side of San Palomino in a different government facility, Arc’s wife Roxy was asking a related question. “Why did you leave a missile launcher in your bed?”

Would put this after a soft break.

There weren’t enough lines on Market’s face for her to have had too many previous jobs. Roxy asked, “What did you do before?”

Is Roxy as new as Arc? Harv said Shade members learned not to ask this.
2:

Roxy awoke that morning with a facefull of dirt and rabbit blood.

faceful or face full. (Shut up Autocorrect, that is so a word.)
3:

Now he wonded if he should bring it to his new office

wondered
4:

They should really do something about that HU-7 instead of just carrying it around.

Chekov's rocket launcher.

They hadn’t got there when the house exploded.

Perhaps gotten instead?