Case Three, Chapter Four: Trust
The mares stared at one another, neither of them moving. Daring glanced over at Phillip; he was still laying against the wall, moaning faintly.
“What happened to you?” Daring whispered. “I haven’t heard from you for over a year. Not since I…” She paused, her next words—her admission—balking on her tongue. “Since I ratted out the others.”
“Duh,” Bright Sparks rolled her eyes. “I went into hiding. Nopony hearing from me was kind of the point.” She cocked her head, one ear pointed up.
Daring paused, listening. And then she heard it, too: the police sirens had stopped.
“We don’t have much time. Where’s Silent Step?” Sparks asked urgently.
“Who?” Daring asked.
“My partner!” Sparks hissed.
“I don’t know,” Daring said. “He ran off.”
“Damn. He broke script. I need to go,” Sparks said, turning towards a window at the end of the room and pushing it open. Daring made no move to stop her. Sparks grabbed the sack that she had loaded her booty into and swung it over her shoulder. She started to climb out of the window but paused halfway.
“Can I trust you, Daring?” she asked, looking directly at Daring.
Daring hesitated, glancing at Phillip, whose eyelids were fluttering faintly as he tried to wake up. She then looked back at her friend and raised her hoof, showing off the brand that still marked her skin. “We’re Family,” she said in a low, determined voice. “That doesn’t break.”
“The church,” Sparks said, glaring at Phillip. “Be there at five tonight.” And with that, she slipped completely out of the window, out from the grasp of the anti-teleportation wards. With a flash of orange lights, she vanished.
Daring stared for a moment at the spot where her friend had just been, then turned to Phillip, who was groaning and holding his head as he stood up. She crouched down next to him, draped his foreleg over her shoulders, and lifted him up.
“Where’d she go?” Phillip asked, looking around.
“She…” Daring started to say, glancing at the window. “I’m sorry, Phil. She hit me with a spell and got away.”
Phillip glared up at her, and she instantly knew that he had smelled her lie; it seemed to hang in the air with a reeking odor like rotting fish. But before he could press the issue, the door opened and a police officer dashed into the room, his revolver drawn.
“Sentry?” Phillip asked.
Flash Sentry stopped as though he’d run into an invisible brick wall, his eyebrows rising straight up as though they might leap right off his face. “Sir...er, Finder! What’re you two doing here?”
“Investigating,” Phillip replied, shaking Daring off of him with a grunt. “What’s going on?”
“We’re clearing the bank,” Flash replied, then shook his head with an expression of sudden realization. “Oh, right! I need to get you and the other civilians out of here. Come with me.” He signaled for them to follow and turned to head out of the room. Daring and Phillip both followed him out, headed back up the hallway, through the now-empty and drenched lobby that still smelled of smoke, and back out into the exterior of the bank.
Four police cruisers and a police motorcycle, their lights spinning wildly, were parked in front of the bank, forming an arc that was designed to block any traffic into or out of the bank. Police officers crouched behind the vehicles, weapons drawn. Prowl and Bumblebee were standing beside one cruiser, both of their revolvers aimed at the front door.
“Is that all of them?” Prowl called to Sentry as he escorted Phillip and Daring out of the bank.
“I think so, ma’am,” Flash replied, pausing next to the motorcycle and drawing a pump-action twenty-gauge from a holster attached to the side. “What's our orders?”
“We hold and wait,” Prowl replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the door. “Keep the thief from escaping.”
“Who’s in charge?” Phillip asked, pointedly not looking at Daring even though she kept trying to catch his eye.
“I am,” a voice called. Captain Cold Case was standing behind another cruiser, holding a pair of field binoculars to her eyes as she watched one of the windows on the second floor of the bank. A golden-coated griffon police officer stood next to her, squinting at the window.
“He’s still in there,” the griffon reported; his nametag read MacWillard. “Pacing back and forth, watching the door.”
“What’s happening?” Phillip asked.
“The thief has a guard’s weapon,” Cold replied, not looking up from the binoculars. “He’s barricaded himself in an office on the second floor and is trying to negotiate his way out.”
“Does he have any hostages?” Phil asked, squinting at the window they were all focused upon. Daring could very vaguely see the silhouette of a pony walking back and forth in front of the glass.
“Negative,” Cold replied tersely. “Wheellock?”
“One second, ma'am,” a voice called just to the right of the captain.
Daring looked around to see the speaker and her heart seemed to freeze in her chest. Wheellock was crouched behind the cruiser, braced against the engine hood. In her hooves was a rifle: a Summerfield .30-03 M1903. The wooden stock of the weapon was so smooth and polished that it seemed to have just been plucked from the assembly line, and the metal bolt, barrel, and trigger assembly seemed to glow in all their horrible, burnished glory. Wheellock pressed the scope to her right eye, closing her left. Her chest rose as she sucked in a breath through her open mouth, held it for a moment, then slowly let the air out through her nostrils. Daring saw her expression subtly mold into a stony mask of stoicism. It was a look that she had seen before, and it sent a chill up her spine; she knew what was going to happen.
“I have a shot,” Wheellock stated in a flat, matter-of-fact tone.
"Take it," Cold Case said, no emotion in her voice whatsoever as she ordered a pony's death.
"No, don't!" Daring cried, starting forward, but Phillip's hoof against her chest stopped her. The cry had barely left her mouth before she saw Wheellock's hoof squeeze the trigger. A burst of flame blossomed from the tip of the weapon, accompanied by a crack of thunder. A crack appeared in the window and the silhouette dropped out of sight so fast that it seemed that they just disappeared.
The deed was done in less than half a second. "Move in and secure the bank, there could be more," Cold Case ordered. A line of police officers moved up to the front doors, guns drawn, with Sergeant MacWillard in the lead.
Daring shoved Phillip's hoof off her chest and stormed up to Cold Case, who did not turn around to face her. "Is shooting ponies in the face your answer to everything?" she snapped.
“He posed a lethal threat,” Case stated, without any change in her tone.
“He was trapped and outnumbered!” Daring protested. “You didn’t need to shoot him!”
Cold Case turned around and glared at Daring. “He was a thief who was associated with the same ponies who were armed with a Blackhorn Automatic. A weapon that was designed for and issued to Crystal Soldiers under Sombra during the war. I find it odd that you’d care so much about somepony like that.”
“He was still a pony,” Daring countered, glaring back at the captain.
The icy-eyed mare continued to glare at Daring, then grunted and turned away. "You're done here. Move along," she ordered, following Wheellock up the stairs into the bank. Daring stared after her retreating form, suddenly realizing that she was shaking down to the end of her tail.
Phillip laid a hoof on her shoulder, giving her a look that was as icy as a frost dragon’s breath. “Let’s go home,” he said in a voice that gave no room for argument.
Daring looked at him for a moment, then glanced up at the window where, moments earlier, Silent Step had been standing. The window was marred by a circular hole surrounded by spiderweb-like cracking.
Sighing, she followed Phillip to the street curb, where he hailed a taxi to take them back home. During the entire trip, he not once spoke to her or looked at her.
The silence wounded her more than any words ever could.
When they finally reached 221 Honeybee Bakery, dark clouds were gathering across the sky, slithering in front of the sun. Phillip exited the taxi, tossed some bits at the driver, and stalked up to the door. Daring followed him, her stomach churning inside her.
Phillip let her inside and guided her into the sitting room, then whirled around to face her. “The mare,” he spoke, his tone seeming to shudder beneath the weight of his barely restrained anger. “Who was she?”
Daring took a slow breath, forcing herself not to step back or flinch, and spoke. “Bright Sparks. She was a member of the Family. My Family.”
Phillip did not reply, continuing to glower at her. Daring looked back into his stormcloud gray eyes and continued. “She was my best friend, and the only one that got away after I...after I ratted them out. I told her that I was going to turn everypony in and gave her a chance to run.”
“Why?” Phillip asked.
“Because…” Daring started to say, then paused. Her stomach churned again, then clenched, pushing something up from inside her, the bitter taste of bile rushing up her throat to her mouth. She returned Phillip’s glower with a glare of her own and began to speak, the words rushing out of her.
“I left my parents when I was thirteen, and good fucking riddance to them both; neither of them ever gave a shit about me, half the time they couldn't even remember I actually existed, much less my name. Living on the street was better than having to put up with them. Bright Sparks found me and took me into the Family. Do you even know what they were?"
"I know what you told everypony," Phillip replied. "The Family was an order of thieves, spies, and treasure hunters for hire."
"More than that!" Daring snapped. "The Family was a group of ponies from centuries ago. They took in the homeless, ex-cons, outcasts...ponies like me. We promised to stick together no matter what, and to help each other, even if that meant breaking the law. And especially if that meant stealing from those who stole from others. We really were a family: they named me Daring Do, they gave me a home, they taught me...they gave me my life!”
“And yet they made you brand your hoof,” Phillip pointed out, looking down at her right foreleg.
The mark suddenly burned again, Daring’s entire arm flaring with pain. She bit down on her lip to contain a cry of pain, fighting through the distraction. “I’m not saying it was all sunshine and rainbows,” she grunted. “It was an old tradition, as old as the Family itself. We had to get branded with this cursed iron that the original members found years ago. When I got branded, it connected to my magic somehow. That's why it burns when I get upset. That's why it can never come off. That's why it will always be there, reminding me of who I am.” She raised her hoof and looked down at the bright red brand.
“I’m a Family member,” she whispered, staring at the mark. “Forever.”
“And they stole,” Phillip stated, frowning.
“Never from anypony who couldn’t afford it or didn't deserve it,” Daring countered. "Most of what Sparks and I did was harmless treasure hunting that we sold to museums and shit...at least I thought it was."
“But you turned them in,” Phillip prompted.
Daring sucked in a breath and looked away from Phillip.
“Because...because it changed,” she admitted, tilting her head down and sweeping her gaze across the floor. “When they took me in, it seemed all right because we were just making money and looking out for each other, and no one was really getting hurt...at least no one that didn't deserve it...but then I met..." She paused, her tongue refusing to form the name for a moment, so she had to force it out of her mouth. "...Mojo. The boss.” She shuddered, sucking in a breath through her teeth.
“And I realized the truth. It was all about money. The end. Stealing weapons for mob bosses or foreign powers. Taking historical treasures from their rightful owners to sell to some collector. Even...even assassination. All that Mojo and the other higher-ups cared about was getting paid and fuck whoever got hurt doing it. I couldn't believe I'd been so blind...”
Phillip’s expression faltered for a moment, and he half-raised his hoof, as though tempted to try to reach out towards her and comfort her, but he suppressed the urge and continued to glare at her.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Daring continued, her breathing accelerating as the pain of the cursed brand continued to spread like fire up her foreleg. “I had to stop them. But Bright Sparks...she was my friend. She was my sister. She and I were the only ones who did what we could to avoid killing. So I told her what I was going to do, gave her the chance to run and hide.” She lowered her hoof to the floor and forced herself to breathe evenly, emptying her mind of all emotion. Slowly, the fire ebbed away.
Phillip was silent for a few moments, then spoke in a softer, gentler tone. “I understand you wanting to protect her,” he said. “But she’s still a thief.”
“She’s still my friend!” Daring spat, the burning of bile in her stomach and throat blocking out the pain of the brand. Phillip stepped back slightly, his eyes widening momentarily in response to her anger. She thrust her brand-marked hoof at him, and he stepped back fully, instinctively raising his hoof to defend himself.
“And given circumstances a bit different, I’d be no different than her!” Daring shouted.
Phillip scowled and grabbed her hoof. “You are different than her,” he snapped. “You’re not a thief anymore, and she is.”
“Oh, give me a fucking break!” Daring shouted, ripping her hoof from his grasp. “You and I are both perfectly fucking aware that we’ve broken the law...but at least I haven’t broken anypony’s kneecap!”
“You didn’t have a problem with it,” Phillip stated.
“I didn't. Don’t. I'm just pointing out that you haven’t got an argument,” Daring stated. “Besides, the only places that they’ve hit are businesses connected to Monopoly and Silvertongue, right?”
“Yes…” Phillip admitted hesitantly.
“So how exactly is she different than us?” Daring asked.
“She may be connected to the ponies who murdered Nightmare Moon Disciples in the streets,” Phillip stated, sounding as though this might cut off her entire argument.
Daring faltered for a moment, then scowled. “Who weren’t innocent ponies,” she countered. “It might not have been the way I’d preferred to deal with it, but—”
Phillip interrupted with a raised hoof. “What it boils down to is this,” he said. “How do you expect me to trust you after this?”
“At least I’m being honest now,” Daring snapped. “I think it’s funny you should ask me that when you don’t trust me.”
“What do you mean?” Phillip asked.
“Lucky Dice,” Daring hurled the accusation at him.
Phillip flinched as though she had struck him, then turned his head away. “That’s different,” he hissed through his teeth.
“How?” Daring pressed, walking around to glare into his eyes. “I kept a secret from you, you’re keeping secrets from me. And how do you expect me to trust you if you’re keeping secrets from me?”
Phillip stared at her for a moment, then turned his head away again. “It’s not…I don’t…”
“Not what?” Daring snapped, pressing her forehead against his to force him to look at her.
He pulled away from her and turned his back on her. “This conversation is over,” he declared, walking out of the room.
“The hell it is!” Daring shouted, but her only answer was the door to the basement stairs slamming, followed by a heavy, rhythmic thudding of hooves smashing into the heavy bag.
She let out a breath in a half-sigh, half-growl and stalked out into the back deck, slamming the door behind her. The evening air kissed her skin as she seized the pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Ripping a fag from the pack, she placed it in her mouth and grabbed her lighter, snapping it open and lighting it on the third click. Lighting the end of the fag, she sucked in a full lungful of mint-tasting smoke. She held it in her chest for a couple moments, then exhaled slowly, blowing smoke spitefully up at the encroaching storm clouds over her head. As she exhaled, she felt as though she were exhaling all of her tension, her muscles relaxing and the acidic burn of her anger abating.
But though the burning of the cursed brand abated slightly, it did not fade away completely. And after a moment, Daring realized that it was the only thing that she could feel; with her anger gone, her chest felt hollow, as though her innards had been scooped out and thrown away.
“He doesn’t trust me,” she whispered, staring down at her hooves.
As if on cue, the rain broke over her head, the first drops pattering against the brim of her hat and dripping down into her mane. Her cigarette went out with a sizzle, but she barely noticed.
She glanced down at her watch. It was already 4:15. Getting to the church would take time, and she’d want to get there early to make sure that it was clear.
But even as Daring spread her wings to prepare to fly, her hooves refused to leave the cold, wet wood of the deck. She felt as though a weight was tied around her body, holding her to the ground, to the house.
She glanced back over her shoulder, looking into the window. She could see into the sitting room through the kitchen, and for a moment, she almost fooled herself into believing that she could see Phillip sitting on the sofa, his saxophone in his hooves, eyes closed as he played.
But he wasn’t there. He’d turned his back on her. Just like everypony else had.
Except for Bright Sparks.
Daring took in a breath, flicking the cigarette away. Spreading her wings, she forced herself to take off, lifting from the ground into the cold, rainy, endlessly gray skies. She turned and flew eastwards, every flap of her wings seeming to take an enormous effort, as though the air had turned into molasses. Even though she tried to look forward to seeing her friend again, she couldn’t shake the feeling that when she’d taken off, a part of her had ripped off and been left behind on the rainy back deck.
The old church hadn’t changed much; the white paint on the sloped rooftops was still patchy and crumbling and the hole in the side of the squat belltower revealed that it was still vacant. But the flower gardens that surrounded the building were colorful and lovingly tended to, and the floor to ceiling windows that formed the walls of the sanctuary were still clean, allowing Daring to see inside. It still looked much the same; the same rows of wooden pews with the red cushions, the same table of candles and small but well-polished pipe organ that sat on the small dais at the head of the room, and the same stained glass window at the head of the room that depicted the Holy Mother, represented as a softly glowing yellow star with the faint image of an eye inside it, looking down upon Faust and Speranza, the first alicorns, who were admiring their new wings with looks of awe: Faust, white-coated with long red hair and the cutie mark of an inkpot and quill, and Speranza, crystal blue with emerald hair and the cutie mark of a rainbow-colored circle.
The sign next to the concrete pathway that led to the main door read “Church of Navahism. Pastor: Joyful Sound” in faintly peeling letters. Daring looked at it and took some small comfort in the fact that something in her life hadn’t yet changed. She shook her rain-soaked mane to get it out of her face and walked up the pathway to the double doors and entered the two-story building attached to the sanctuary.
The lobby was empty of ponies, though the tables with the pamphlets, newsletters, and coffee machine were still set up around the room. She pushed through the doors into the sanctuary and entered. The pews were mostly empty, though there were a few ponies sitting by themselves. Some had their heads bowed, others were watching the pale blonde-maned jenny that was practicing the organ at the head of the room.
A steady clicking, tapping noise alerted Daring to another pony approaching her from the left. She turned to see a unicorn mare walking towards her. She had a sunshine yellow coat and the pale sky blue and white of her mane was starting to melt into gray. Her cutie mark was a dandelion flower with a musical note, and she held a red and white cane in her left hoof, which she tapped on the ground as she walked forward.
“Hello, child,” Joyful Sound smiled at her, looking at her with her clouded-over blue eyes.
“Pastor,” Daring greeted her briefly, walking past her. She scanned the pews and spotted Bright Sparks sitting on the second row on the left, all the way at the end. Her head was bowed, pressed against her clasped hooves. Daring slowly slid into the pew next to her and waited in silence.
After a few moments, Sparks sniffled. “Step…” she whispered. “He was just supposed to run...he shouldn’t have...they just...they fucking shot him…” She sobbed quietly, her shoulders shaking. Daring draped her wing over her friend and held her close. Eventually, Sparks’ sobs subsided and she took a deep breath to get herself back under control.
“You came alone?” Sparks whispered urgently, glancing up to make sure that Joyful Sound was nowhere near and couldn’t hear them over the organ music.
“Yes,” Daring nodded.
“What about your friend? The detective?” Sparks spat quietly.
“He…” Daring felt the words pause in her throat, scratching against her inner walls for a moment, then flowing out of her mouth. “He’s out of the picture.”
“You swear?” Sparks pressed, glaring at Daring.
“He doesn’t trust me,” Daring replied. “And why should he?” She gritted her teeth. “He’s a cop. First, last, and always. To him, I was just a thief.”
The cursed brand began to burn, but she ignored the pain. Sparks glared at her for a moment more, then her expression softened and she hugged Daring. “I missed you, sis,” she whispered into Daring’s shoulder.
“I missed you, too,” Daring replied, hugging her in reply. “What happened to you?”
“I lammed it, like you told me,” Sparks said. “I was hiding for a few months, made ends meet as a handypony. And then I met somepony. Somepony who could help me, help us fight.”
“Fight?” Daring asked.
A spark shone in Bright Sparks eyes, a spark that grew into a fire. “You and I have always hated it, Daring—the rich, fat fucks who think that they can run this city, like Silvertongue and Monopoly. They get rich off of the blood of ponies like us and other innocent ponies. They steal and they kill because they can, not because they needed to like us!” She let out a breath in a growl. “They need to be stopped. And they can’t be stopped legally. We need to hurt them, take away their money and their assets, break them down piece by piece.”
Daring listened in silence, listened and allowed the words to burrow into her brain. Silvertongue’s arrogant smirk and Monopoly’s twisted sneer flashed across her mind in every vivid detail, and the bile in her stomach began to boil. The muscles in her forelegs tensed in preparation to attack.
“And she can help us both,” Sparks continued. “The both of us, together, just like old times...except this time we won’t be just surviving. We’ll be fighting back. And we’ll be winning.”
She smiled up at Daring, her expression hopeful and expectant. Daring looked back at her, the fire that she had ignited spreading across her entire body, galvanized by the triumphant chords that echoed from the pipe organ. She did not hesitate for a moment; her reply was a smile and a nod.
Sparks’ smile grew wider. “Great! Come on.” She stood and walked down the center aisle. Daring followed her back out of the sanctuary, through the lobby and back outside. The rain had intensified, the drops pelting down like small hammers upon their backs.
Sparks walked some distance away from the church, gesturing for Daring to come closer. Daring stepped in close. Sparks closed her eyes in concentration as her horn began to glow orange.
Then, with a flash of orange light, the two of them vanished.
At the same time, back at 221 Honeybee Bakery, Phillip emerged from the basement. Sweat dripped down his brow and his chest rose and fell heavily as he breathed through an open mouth. His front hooves were bright red from punching the bag and he winced quietly every time he gingerly put weight on them. Droplets of blood on the floor marked his path up the stairs and down the hallway.
“Daring?” he called out.
Silence was his only answer. He walked into the empty sitting room and looked around.
“Daring?” he called again, his voice carrying a small tremor of uncertainty. He trotted up the stairs and looked into Daring’s room, only to find it empty as well.
“Daring? Where are you?” he shouted, descending the stairs again at a faster pace. He walked out onto the back deck, into the pelting rain that tumbled from the darkening skies. Glancing down, he spotted Daring’s partly smoked and soaked fag, lying pathetically on the deck. He looked up and scanned the clouds, but found no sign of her.
“Daring?” he whispered, knowing that she wouldn’t answer. And that she’d never answer again.
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Oh god, Daring... Just god... Also, Curse Mark? Have you been taking inspiration from the Hyuuga Clan Josiah?
But in all serious, it's nice to see Daring and Sparks think of taking the Luke Cage route to taking down the white collar crooks... AKA hit them where it hurts, the money.
Everything works out in the end I'm sure. It's only chapter four of case three, we got plenty of time. It's like watching a movie and something heavy happens and you check how much time is left in the movie for them to resolve it.
8502030
just interesting take man
8492128
you know, that's an interesting yet accurate way to describe it
As I read this, Frank Sinatra's "The way you look tonight" started playing on my turn table
I've been studying and reading Biblical Hebrew (and a little Israeli Hebrew) for ging on 33 years, and I have never heard of the word for family being "navah." I'm not sure there is a word used in the Hebrew Bible for family, but the Israeli word is mishpachah.
But don't let this comment make you think I'm not enjoying this saga. I've been hooked from the beginning! I'm just a Hebrew nerd and anytime someone says something about it I have to put my bill in.
8897408
I looked it up online. Curse those online dictionaries.
Is this a Springfield rifle?
9765030
Yes. All weapons and vehicles in this story are based off of era weaponry and cars. I use the LA Noire wiki for inspiration.