Case Three, Chapter Six: The Heist
The sound of quiet snoring mixed with the rhythmic thudding of her own slow heartbeat, echoing in Daring’s ears. She tossed and turned, the sleeping bag that she was wrapped in shuffling as she moved. Tired as she was after a full day of planning and preparing with the others, she just couldn’t fall asleep.
She lay flat on her back and huffed through her nostrils, staring around enviously at the other members of the crew, all of whom were fast asleep, curled up in their own sleeping bags that were scattered across the floor of the hideout’s living room. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that it was almost two o’clock in the morning. In just over twelve hours, she’d be breaking into a guarded attorney firm to find and steal a scroll.
With a quiet grunt, Daring tossed the covers off and walked out of the room on tiphoof, carefully stepping over the bodies of the others. Reaching a back door, she slowly pushed it open just enough to slip out, quietly cursing the soft squeaking of the hinges.
She stepped out onto a back porch. The cool evening air embraced her, making her shiver slightly; she detected the faint odor of smog, scratching against her nose. Leaning up against the railing, she looked up at the night sky stretching above her. The waning moon over her head, peeking out over the dark clouds that passed slowly in front of the heavens, had a hazy halo around it, promising rain. The stars all glimmered and shone over her heads; Daring’s gaze focused on the jewel-like cluster of Pleiades, then went up to heroic Perseus rescuing Andromeda as Cassiopeia watched. She followed Cassiopeia’s direction to observe Ursa Minor and Major, with Draco winding in between the two bears. Finally, her gaze settled on Polaris, the unmoving North Star.
Previously, the stars had always seemed to her like close friends, offering her help and advice from above. But now, the stars seemed cold and remote, so far beyond her reach, taunting her with their light. Even steadfast Polaris simply stared coldly down at her.
Sighing, Daring closed her eyes to save herself the pain of having to look. She stood in silence for a few moments, then, without consciously willing it, began to hum quietly. A tune formed from her closed lips, floating up into the silent night.
After a minute, she suddenly realized that the song was a familiar one. Buffalo Summer. She stopped suddenly with a soft gasp, opening her eyes wide. She was suddenly aware of a cold, empty feeling inside her breast, as if a part of her had been ripped from her interior and discarded. And she knew that she’d left it behind on the back porch of 221 Honeybee Bakery.
For a moment, she was tempted to go back home, go back to him, but her wings and hooves felt as though they were encased in lead at the thought. Sparks needed her. Her new Family needed her. The cursed mark began to burn again, a cold, icy burn like frostbite that made her entire hoof feel numb, as though it had been cut off.
“Dammit,” she whispered throatily, her eyes burning with tears that she dared not shed. Wiping at her face with a wingtip, she turned away from the stars and walked back inside.
As she slowly pushed the door shut behind her to prevent it from creaking, her ears caught an odd munching sound coming from her right. Following the sound, she entered the kitchen of the hideout to find Bright Sparks sitting in front of the open refrigerator, bathed in the light from the interior bulb. She was munching happily on what Daring slowly realized was a large pickle slathered in mayonnaise and potato chips that she was dipping in a cup of ketchup. Trying to ignore her stomach twisting and clenching inside her, Daring cleared her throat softly.
Sparks looked up in surprise, a dollop of mayonnaise sliding down her chin. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered, licking her lips clean. “Did I wake you up?”
“No,” Daring replied, walking up and sitting down next to her friend. “I couldn’t sleep.” She glanced over at Sparks’ midnight snack. “I see you couldn’t either.”
Sparks smiled sadly and slowly rubbed a hoof across her belly. “The little one wanted some food.”
“The little…?” Daring asked slowly.
Sparks nodded slowly. “Silent Step and I both want...wanted a better life for them,” she whispered. “One where they don’t have to live a life being ruled by crime lords that grind innocent ponies under their hooves to make a quick bit.” She looked up at Daring, her eyes suddenly hard and determined. “That’s why we do this,” she stated.
Daring nodded, unable to think of a suitable reply. They sat in silence (save for the crunching of Sparks’ meal) for a few moments, then Daring asked, “Sparks? What exactly is this scroll?”
Sparks finished her chip before answering. “Some kind of spell or ritual,” she answered. “From what Janus told me, Monopoly bought it off of Silvertongue years ago. I had a look at the first half of the scroll, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of it; it was in some ancient language.”
Sparks paused to swirl another chip through the dish of ketchup before continuing. “From what Janus told me, Monopoly bought it to use as a ‘last resort weapon’ in case things really got fucked up.”
The words “last resort” sent a cold shiver like ice water running down Daring’s spine. “What does it do?” she asked.
“I don’t know; I asked, but if Janus knew, he didn’t tell me,” Spark replied, licking salt and ketchup off her hoof. “All I know is, it’s too dangerous for the likes of Monopoly to have their hooves on.”
“And you’d let Janus have it?” Daring asked. “How can you trust him?”
“Scarlet says we can,” Sparks replied in a tone that made it clear that she expected this to clear up everything.
“Scarlet?” Daring asked.
“The boss,” Sparks explained. “She’s the one who found and took care of me while I was on my own, the one who put us all together. She gave us this home, helps us with plans and equipment...we all owe so much to her.”
“Do you trust her?” Daring asked.
Sparks gave her an angry look. “She saved my life, Daring,” Sparks said. “How can you even say that?”
Instead of answering, Daring slowly turned to stare straight ahead. She sat in silence for a while longer, then stood up. “I should get back to bed,” she sighed.
“Good night, sis,” Sparks called, spooning out mayonnaise on another pickle.
Daring tiphoofed back to the living room, stepping over the sleeping forms of the other members of the crew. Reaching her sleeping bag, she carefully crawled back inside and laid down, staring at the ceiling. She knew it was pointless to try to sleep now.
The hand on a clock standing at the corner of Willow and Gold Dust ticked forward and settled over the 11, declaring to all who viewed it that it was now 1:55 in the afternoon. The sun peeked through the cloud cover for a moment, firing down its beams at a five-story glass and steel building that stood on Gold Dust road. Miranda and Sons, the hanging sign over the gold-handled revolving door declared in flowing golden letters; the door was bordered on either side by wide, almost floor to ceiling windows.Two security guards in stark white uniforms adorned with the badges of a local security agency stood on either side of the door, grumpily studying the faces of the ponies that walked by and scanning over anypony who passed through the door. A security crystal was mounted over the door, staring down at any visitors.
Phillip Finder crouched on the roof of the apartment building opposite the firm, partly hidden behind the short wall that circled the roof, watching the flow of ponies beneath like a hawk. An extremely tired hawk who kept blinking sleepily and yawning and shaking his still wet mane out of his eyes. Several empty styrofoam coffee cups were littered on the roof around him, along with an empty box of Blue Camel and eleven used cigarettes, all of them smoked down to the end. He chewed on the last one, apparently oblivious to the fact that it had gone out.
The fire escape ladder behind him rattled and Trace Evidence climbed over onto the roof, pausing to study the sight before him. “There you are,” he called, approaching Phillip. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Phillip didn’t react to Trace’s approach. Trace walked up next to Phillip, studying the litter around him and noting his wet mane and vest. “Have you been here all night?” he asked.
Phillip grunted quietly in affirmation.
“Geez,” Trace breathed. “You’ve got to be freezing.”
“I’m fine,” Phillip stated, spitting his cigarette out onto the rooftop and staring down at Miranda and Sons.
“Where’s Daring?” Trace asked.
Phillip did not reply. Trace stepped forward and laid a hoof on Phil’s shoulder. “C’mon, Phil, take a break,” he said. “Doctor Suunkii told us about what you found out. We’ve been keeping an eye on this place. Just go home and sleep.”
“Can’t,” Phillip replied tersely, never taking his eyes off Miranda and Sons’ door.
“Phil, go home,” Trace repeated, an edge added to his voice. “You’re no good to anypony like this.”
Phillip looked up at Trace, and for a moment, there was something of a pleading expression in Phil’s eyes behind the exhaustion and worry. But Trace’s gaze did not waver. With a groan, Phillip pulled himself to his hooves, moving as slowly and wearily as though he were trying to hold up the world. Trace took him by the foreleg and guided him to the fire escape ladder and the two stallions climbed down to the ground together.
Phillip allowed himself to be guided down the sidewalk to the corner and Trace gave him a gentle push up Willow. He walked away down the street, his head low and his eyes fixed upon the sidewalk.
Daring. Where was Daring? Was she safe? What would happen if Trace caught her? Or a different officer? What would happen if they decided that she wasn’t worth arresting?
The thought sent an electric jolt of terror through his heart, banishing his sleepiness. His head snapped up straight and his legs straightened, hardening into pillars of iron.
He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Trace Evidence approaching a familiar long black Fleetracer that was parked down the road behind him. Red Herring was standing next to the car, picking at his teeth. They had something planned, and Trace wanted him out of the way. And then he noticed the bulges beneath the two detectives' coats: they were wearing bulletproof vests.
He proceeded down until he reached another intersection and turned down it, then paused, pressing his back up against the wall behind him. Whatever was happening, there was a good chance that Daring Do would be at the center of it. And if she was there, then he needed to be there, too.
“What’s the plan, Captain?” Red asked through the window of the Fleetracer.
“Wait for them to make a move,” Cold Case replied, her teeth clenched around the neck of a clay pipe, smoke issuing from her nostrils as she spoke. “And then we call down every unit in the vicinity and rain down hell on their heads.”
“Sounds good to me,” Red grunted, throwing his toothpick into a nearby trash bin.
Trace Evidence did not reply; instead he looked around at the cruiser that was parked several feet behind them. Prowl and Bumblebee were standing at the back of the cruiser, talking. Bumblebee looked over at the detectives, then back to his sergeant, shifting to adjust for the weight of the bulletproof vest he was wearing.
“I don’t know, boss,” Bumblebee muttered, looking into the trunk of the cruiser. A .45 Trotson and an 18-gauge pump action, both loaded and primed for action, sat in the floor of the trunk. Next to them was a black ballistic shield, a two by four foot black rectangular slate of metal with a bulletproof glass viewing port set into the upper part. Small runes were etched into the perimeter of the shield, the magic contained within them reinforcing the metal’s strength. “The Cap orders us to wait here at the start of our beat, and then tells us to make sure that we got the heavy gear ready to go. It doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Nor with me,” Prowl admitted, double-checking to make sure her .38 sidearm was loaded and clean. She glanced around as she holstered her weapon, then leaned in close to her partner. “If this goes bad, just keep your head down, follow your training, and stay close to me. You’ll be fine.”
Bee smiled faintly and tapped the shield. “I should be telling you to keep your head down and stay close to me, considering I’m the one that’s going to be carrying this big-ass thing.”
Prowl chuckled and briefly tussled Bee’s mane. “Better you than me.”
Further up the street, Flash Sentry stood next to his motorcycle, leaning against the parked bike. He glanced down at the shotgun holster attached to the bike. The wooden stock of the shotgun was poking out of the leather holster, like the head of a venomous rattlesnake glaring out from its coils, preparing to strike. “I don’t like this,” he muttered to himself, scratching at his neck where the vest chafed at his skin.
Several feet over their heads, another pony looked down at the scene beneath her, and decided that she didn’t like it either. Daring Do crouched in the cloud that she had hidden herself in, peering down her monocular at the ponies below, frowning as she studied the cruiser, motorcycle, and plainclothes car.
Reaching into a pocket in her shirt, she extracted what looked like a notebook with a single page on it and wrote a quick note on it: “There’s a lot of cops hanging around this place. Something’s not right. Should we abort? —DD”
As soon as she lifted the pen from the enchanted page, the writing faded away from the page. Moments later, the notebook grew warm and more words appeared on the paper, written in a different hoof:
“Negative. This is our one shot. We proceed as planned. —BS”
Daring frowned and glanced down again. Even from up here, she could recognize all of the officers: Trace, Red, Prowl, Bee, and Flash. And there were probably more just a radio call away.
But if Sparks said they were going ahead, they were going ahead. She couldn’t let her sister and her new team down.
From above, she spotted Bright Sparks entering the firm, subtly exaggerating her steps to make her hips and tail sway side to side as she walked. She was wearing a slinky black dress that hugged her form, designed to draw the eye; indeed, the security guards manning the front door turned their heads to follow her progress inside.
Darting to another cloud, Daring watched Officer Sentry, waiting for him to turn his back, then dove straight down and landed in an alleyway behind Miranda and Sons. Leaf Dance was waiting for her, his expression as morose and blank as always. He wore a small backpack over his shoulders.
“She’s in, and so are we,” Daring whispered. Leaf Dance nodded and turned up the collars of his coat. He reached into a garbage can next to him and extracted a plastic bag with a golden key inside. Plucking out the key, he led the way to the red door set in the brick wall at the end of the alley. Inserting the key into the lock, he turned it slowly, then pulled the door open a crack. Daring peeked through the gap between the other side of the door and the wall, checking the hallway behind.
“All clear,” she whispered. Leaf opened the door fully and they both snuck inside, Leaf silently closing the door behind him. They crept down the carpeted hallway, eyes and ears alert for any sign of trouble. Daring noticed a security crystal placed on the wall over her head as she passed a locked doorway, and instinctively hid from its sight by pressing against the wall beneath it.
“Don’t need to hide from that,” Leaf Dance pointed out, walking out in full sight of the crystal.
“Can’t be too careful,” Daring whispered back, creeping along the wall until they reached an intersecting hallway to the right. She peeked out around the corner and froze, holding up a hoof to stop Leaf.
A security guard in a gray uniform, a burnt orange earth pony with a rounded belly and shaggy brown hair, was standing down the hallway in front of them, his back to them. He was watching a hallway lined with office doors, leaning against the wall and yawning. “Hold on, belly,” he muttered to himself, scratching his chin as his stomach grumbled. “Just another hour and we can go home and have dinner.”
One of the office doors opened and a stallion stepped out. He was a tall purple pegasus stallion with oily black hair that was obviously dyed and thick glasses. He was wearing an expensive dark blue suit with a muted crimson tie and a silver watch on his foreleg that was far too large to be allowed. His cutie mark depicted a golden balance scale that was tipped to one side, towards a dish that contained several manila folders. He was clutching another folder under his wing, tucked against his side like a hoofball. Daring recognized him immediately from photographs at the hideout: Miranda Right, the founder and unquestionable head of Miranda and Sons.
The security guard immediately stiffened and stood up straight, but Miranda was too busy to notice him. “Three million bit settlement!” the attorney muttered to himself as he hurried down the hallway away from him. “That’ll be just enough to get me that summer house on the Lunar Sea…Holy Mother bless greedy mares like her...” He disappeared around the corner out of sight. The guard immediately relaxed and glanced behind him, forcing Daring and Leaf to duck back out of sight.
Daring uncoiled the kusarifundo from her belt and spun it: the weighted end whistled past her ear, a familiar, almost comforting sound. She whistled softly. Hearing the noise, the guard turned around with a grunt of confusion. Half-drawing the revolver slung at his hip, he started towards the sound. As soon as he was close enough, Daring snapped the kusarifundo out, coiling it around the guard's foreleg and yanked him towards them. The stallion’s cry of surprise was cut off by Leaf Dance bringing a leather sap down onto his skull twice, knocking him out.
“I still don’t like this,” Daring muttered as she gathered up her weapon and tucked it back into her belt, watching Leaf Dance stripping off the guard’s uniform and duty belt. "I prefer leaving a small hoofprint."
“You don’t have to like it, just help me tie him up," Leaf Dance replied, unpacking a coil of rope and a roll of duct tape.
The two of them quickly tied up and gagged the guard and locked him in a closet. Donning the stolen but fortunately relatively well-fitting uniform, Leaf Dance took the guard’s place in the hallway.
One of Daring’s pockets started to warm up. She reached inside and extracted the enchanted notebook, flipping it open to reveal more writing:
“OOF: Miranda, Brown, Silverthorne, Mapp, Wainwright.”
Daring nodded. All of the firm’s attorneys were currently out of their offices, leaving their offices wide open for the taking.
“I’ll start searching while you cover me,” Daring said to Leaf. “Warn me if somepony comes back.”
Leaf Dance nodded. Daring approached the door to the first office on the left. The gold plaque on the door read “Wainwright.” Pulling out the magic-nullifying crystal, she placed it on the doorknob and set to work picking the lock. Twelve seconds later, she opened the office door and stepped inside.
On the floor below, Miranda Right straightened his tie and entered a private meeting room. “Good afternoon, Miss Star,” he said with a smile, approaching Bright Sparks. The mare was sitting on one of the cushioned seats that surrounded a polished maple table that sat in the center of the brightly colored room. The window outside showed them a view of the street outside.
“Good afternoon, Mister Right,” Sparks smiled back, shaking his hoof. “I’m glad that you were able to see me on such short notice.”
“Absolutely, your case means a lot to me personally,” Miranda smiled, sitting down on the cushion across from her and placing his folders on the table.
So does my money, Bright Sparks thought, maintaining her false smile throughout. Well, actually, your money. Yours and your bosses. “I’m certain that I’ll be able to get this settlement solved with no issues with your help,” she said.
“Not to worry, Miss Star,” Miranda said, opening up a folder and flipping through the files. “I’ve been reviewing your husband’s arguments, and they have no merit. I’m sure we can win this if it goes to court.”
“Excellent,” Bright Sparks nodded. “Now, then, where were we?”
Still, she couldn’t help but think as she pretended to listen to Miranda talk about court procedures and evidence, it probably would have been a better idea to tell Daring the full plan. She thought it was just a heist...
Time ticked past as Daring searched the attorney’s offices one by one. She checked drawers, picked filing cabinets, scanned the pockets of coats and tapped the walls and chairs for secret compartments. But so far, she’d found nothing. Leaf Dance remained where he was in the hallway, coughing loudly whenever somepony approached to warn her to hide. Fortunately, nopony ever went into the office where she was working.
Finally, she entered the last office: Miranda’s. Glancing back at Leaf Dance as she pushed the door open, she entered a large office with a plush golden carpeting. A large bookshelf stood on the right wall, while several plaques and diplomas were hanging off the left. An oak desk with a carved figure of Lady Justice, an alicorn mare wearing a blindfold and holding a set of balance scales, stood in the center of the room, with a large red swivel chair behind it and three cushions in front. On the wall behind the desk was a large portrait of Miranda Right, grinning at his visitors.
Daring snorted. “Not short on vanity, are you, buddy?” she muttered to herself, starting her work at the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. There was nothing in there except legal files that Daring barely understood. The other drawers in the cabinet only contained more of the same.
Daring huffed and paused, looking around the room. “Where the hell is this fucking scroll?” she muttered to herself. With a sigh, she mopped a hoof through her mane.
Phil would know... she thought silently, then shook her head. But he’s not here. There’s a reason you’re on opposite sides now. Learn to live with it.
Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she looked around the office once more, scanning the top section of the walls first. A glimmer of light in the corner of the room, just above the door, caught her attention. A small surveillance crystal lens was stuck into the wall, partly hidden in the shadows of the ceiling. Frowning, Daring slowly turned around and spotted two more surveillance crystals, planted just beneath the ceiling. All of them were pointed not at the desk or the door, but at the painting in the back.
“Hmm,” Daring muttered, approaching the painting. She grasped the frame and pulled. The picture swung forward on a set of hinges, revealing a safe with a combination lock in the wall behind it.
“I should’ve guessed,” Daring muttered, placing the magic-nullifying gem on the safe door, just over the combination lock. She reached into an inner pocket of her shirt and pulled out a small drill and a punch rod, taken from the safehouse. She set the punch rod on the desk and was about to start drilling into the lock when she noticed a sticky note attached to the top of the desk with the numbers 27-18-43 on it. Frowning, Daring turned to the safe and dialed 27, 18 and 43 into it. With a click, the safe unlocked.
“I feel insulted,” Daring huffed, opening the safe to reveal the contents. To her irritation, there was nothing inside but some jewels and notebooks with financial information. Scowling, Daring was about to shut the safe door when a thought crossed her mind.
This guy’s not stupid; Monopoly wouldn’t trust him with this if he was. So why hide his safe in such an obvious spot? Daring weighed the painting in her hoof. This feels too light.
Squinting at the back of the painting, she noticed a faint rectangular outline in the middle. Carefully, she tested it with her hoof. A false panel swung outwards, revealing a smaller safe hidden inside the painting itself.
“Bingo,” she grinned, taking up the punch rod and drill again.
The notebook in her pocket grew warm. She flipped it open to read the scrawled note on it in Boltstrike’s writing.
“We’re running out of time until shift change. I’m going in now.”
Daring drew in a breath in a hiss. Bolt was supposed to wait until she had the scroll in hoof to go in for the distraction. And with those cops outside…
She pressed the drill against the combination lock and began to turn it as fast as she could. If the scroll wasn’t in there, she was getting out of the building immediately. She wasn’t going back to prison. Not today.
“Your whole case hinges on convincing the jury that you deserve every cent of his money,” Miranda was saying to Sparks. “With the right testimony, we can surely win this case.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” Sparks laughed. “I’ve lived with him for two years, I know—”
“STAR!” a voice roared. Both ponies jumped as Boltstrike stormed into the room, his face livid, his horn sparking with barely suppressed emotion. A golf bag was slung over his shoulder, the club heads covered with formless cloth bags.
“I come back from the club, my dinner’s not made, and I find that you’re here, talking to this shithole?” Bolt roared at Sparks.
“You must be Mister Star,” Miranda said, rising with a smile that oozed of false charm and snake oil. “I am Miranda Right—”
“This isn’t about you, Thunder,” Bright Sparks said, standing up.
“It’s always about me!” Boltstrike yelled back, spittle flying from his mouth. “Every fucking problem that the two of us have, you lay all the blame at my hooves!”
“Because that’s where it belongs!” Sparks yelled in reply. “You’re the one who’s always going out drinking, you’re the one that wastes all our money on those fucking golf clubs—”
Still arguing, the couple exited the meeting room and walked out of the room, with Miranda Right following, trying to interject a comment or a suggestion every few sentences. The group entered the large circular lobby of the firm, which featured a water fountain statue of Lady Justice in the center, with groupings of chairs and magazines for visitors. The screaming voices of the arguing ponies echoed loudly off of the walls, causing the heads of visitors and staff alike to turn.
“Sir, you need to leave,” a security guard said as he approached Boltstrike and tried to take him by the foreleg. Boltstrike responded by turning and shoving the security guard with his magic. The guard flew backwards and crashed into some chairs, knocking them all over and garnering some surprised cries from the visitors.
The surrounding security guards drew back, some of them half-drawing their sidearms. Sparks and Boltstrike stood back to back, glaring around them at their startled adversaries.
“What’s going on in there?” Red Herring wondered aloud, looking up at the sound of the shouting voices coming from inside the firm.
“Stay here,” Trace said. “I’m going to go check it out.” Shrugging his shoulders to adjust the strap on his shoulder holster, he started to walk up the sidewalk to the front door.
Watching from around the corner, Phillip pulled out his own monoculars and zoomed in on the front of the firm. Through the front windows, he could see the standoff between the two visitors and the security guards. His attention was drawn by the golf club bag that was slung over the stallion’s shoulder. He squinted at the bag, trying to figure out what his subconscious mind was trying to tell him.
Then, with a sudden swooping sensation in his stomach as though he had missed a step walking downstairs, he realized that whatever shape that those bags were concealing, they definitely were not golf clubs.
His heart leaping into his throat, Phillip dropped the monoculars and started to sprint up the street towards Trace. “TRACE!” he yelled. “TRACE! GET DOWN!”
With a soft snap, Daring pushed the drive cam out of the way with the punch rod, allowing her to unlock the small safe door and swing it open. The safe inside the painting was tiny, and contained only one item: a rolled up scroll, cracked and yellowed with age, the ink on it barely legible. Snatching up the scroll, Daring tucked it into her shirt and quickly walked to the door, knocking softly twice.
After a moment, Leaf Dance opened the door. “I got it,” Daring said. “Let’s get out of—”
“Come on,” Leaf Dance grunted, seizing her foreleg and pulling her out of the office. He started to pull her down the hallway.
“What the fuck?!” Daring shouted, trying and failing to wrestle her foreleg free from his grip. “What are you doing?!”
“Change of plan,” Leaf hissed, pulling her along. “I’m escorting you to the front office.”
“Why?” Daring asked, but Leaf didn’t answer. She followed along with him down the hallways past several staring ponies, making a show of trying to escape every so often, but he kept his grip on her.
Finally, they reached a second floor balcony that overlooked the lobby. Peeping over the edge of the safety barrier, Daring saw Sparks and Boltstrike standing in the middle of an odd standoff. Her eyes went to the golf bag on Boltstrike’s back. “The hell are the golf clubs—?” she started to mutter.
“TRACE! GET DOWN!”
The familiar voice made Daring’s heart stop for a moment. Looking up, she spotted Trace Evidence standing outside the firm, turning around to face a stallion in a green vest and a gray hat sprinting towards him.
Sparks and Boltstrike saw them, too. Both of them looked at each other and nodded. Bolt lit up his horn and pulled out two of the objects from the bag on his back, their cloth coverings falling away as he tossed one to Sparks.
Daring’s heart dropped into her stomach. She recognized the unnatural gray-brown coloring, the metal stocks and box-like magazines. BARs.
Tucking the stock of her weapon into her shoulder, Sparks turned and opened fire. The windows shattered beneath her onslaught; Phillip and Trace both dived for the ground, covering their heads as bullets ricocheted off the ground around them. At the same time, Boltstrike opened fire at the security guards around them; with every burst of gunfire from his weapon, a guard dropped to the floor, a series of bullet holes stitched across their chests and oozing dark red blood. Ponies around them screamed and ran for cover; Miranda ran for cover with his tail between his legs, but Boltstrike caught him with a burst in the back of the skull. He dropped to the ground, the remains of his head spreading all over the formerly pristine floor in a pink and red goo.
Daring collapsed as suddenly as a puppet who had their strings cut. She frantically crawled away and hid around the corner of the balcony, not even noticing as the scroll fell out of her shirt. Leaf snatched up the scroll and tossed it down to Sparks, who caught it without looking.
Outside, Daring caught a glimpse of Red Herring flying in and snatching up Trace, dragging him out of the line of fire as Phillip ran after him. Sparks chased them off with another burst of gunfire, which fortunately missed.
With a wail of sirens, two cruisers turned the corner and roared up the street towards them. Boltstrike grinned and lit up his horn, firing a spell at the barrel of his machine gun. The end of the barrel began to spark and fizz like a sparkler. Boltstrike raised the machine gun and fired at the first cruiser. The bullets streaked out of the gun, leaving behind crackles of blue lighting as they raced through the air, thunderclaps echoing painfully in everypony’s ears. The bullets punched through the bulletproof glass of the cruiser’s windshield: the cruiser swerved and crashed into the other one, causing them both to spin off the road and crash into the clock that stood on the corner.
Boltstrike’s triumphant laugh was cut short by two distinct barks from a revolver. He collapsed with a bellow of pain, clutching his now bleeding shoulder and dropping his weapon.
From around the corner came Bumblebee, Prowl, and Flash. Bumblebee led the way forward, peering through the viewing port of his ballistic shield and holding his revolver out in front of him. Prowl was right behind him, aiming her Trotson over his shoulder, while Flash brought up the rear, his shotgun shaking in his hooves as he stared over the sergeant’s head.
Sparks quickly placed a magical shield between herself and the wounded Boltstrike and opened fire at the group, but Bumblebee responded by crouching down, placing his ballistic shield between himself and his teammates; the bullets bounced harmlessly off the metal. Prowl looked over Bee’s head and opened fire with her Trotson. The shield crackled and buzzed as Sparks struggled to hold it up. The officers closed in on the pair.
Up above them on the balcony, Leaf Dance reached into his backpack and extracted a bottle of cheap beer with a rag stuffed into the neck. Lighting the rag with a lighter extracted from his pocket, he stood up straight and wound up to throw the deadly projectile at the officers.
“No!” Daring screamed, instinctively snatching up her kusarifundo. She snapped it out at Leaf’s hoof as he began to throw it, intending to entangle his foreleg, but she missed. With a great crash, the Dragon's Breath cocktail shattered, spilling burning liquid all over Leaf Dance. The stallion screamed and flailed as his body was devoured by flames in moments, leaving him a wailing funeral pyre on the floor, twitching horribly as life left him.
Hearing the screams, Sparks glanced up towards the balcony, then grabbed Boltstrike and lit up her horn. In a flash of orange light, the two thieves vanished.
Panting, Daring looked up over the balcony at the scene beneath her. The lobby was now populated by the dead bodies of security guards and of Miranda Right, the marble floor painted in hues of red. The scent of burnt ozone, cordite and the coppery odor of drying blood hung in the air. The three officers split up and began to search the lobby, clearing the area.
For some reason, as if compelled by an unseen instinct, Flash looked up. His eyes locked onto Daring’s and he paused. Daring shivered, then turned around and ran. She sprinted back down the empty hallways all the way to the back door, which she shoved open with her shoulder. Spreading her wings, she took flight, rocketing up into the sky. Rain began to pour from the sheets of gray clouds that covered the sky, mixing with the tears in her eyes that half-blinded her.
She didn’t know where she was going, and she didn’t care. All she knew was that she must get away, from everything and from everyone, including herself.
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One phrase for this chapter to sum it up, and that's just "Oh my god..."
Worth the wait, PJ13!
Goat Scream
Miranda Right. Founder of a law firm.
Clever! I love it!
8670714
"Miranda Wright" was also a character in the old "Bonkers" cartoon (which wasn't very good).
This was perhaps one of the best chapters yet, and thats no small praise for this story.
10566247
I'm glad you think so! I hope that you enjoy the rest of the series!
Couldn't go any higher than a few feet? I'm imagining the scene, and it looks awfully conspicuous.
And it's probably his last day before retirement, too. Smh