Case Nine, Chapter Nine: The Best Laid Plans
The scent of cordite and the static tingling of magical traces still hung in the air around the partially wrecked home of Hobnail. More cruisers and an ambulance now stood at the top of the short driveway, red and blue lights spinning.
Phillip leaned against the hood of Trace’s car, shrugging his left shoulder. “Doesn’t hurt now,” he muttered to the paramedic.
“Really?” the orange-maned mare asked, raising an eyebrow.
In actuality, every square centimeter of his shoulder was screaming in agony after his fight, but he bit back the pain. “Okay, maybe it hurts a little,” he admitted through gritted teeth.
The paramedic gently felt his shoulder. “Well, you didn’t dislocate it again,” she observed with some relief. “Here.” She pulled a small paper packet of painkillers and an enchanted forever-ice pack out of her saddlebags and handed them to him. “These will help with the pain. No more exerting yourself for the rest of the day.”
“Right,” Phillip grunted, taking the items. He placed the ice pack on his shoulder, sighing as the magical chill soothed the pain, then tore the packet open with his teeth and swallowed both of the pills dry. The paramedic walked back towards the ambulance. Phillip’s eyes followed her as she bent over Prowl, who was laying on her side on a stretcher.
“What do you think?” he heard the medic ask her partner.
“Her wing’s definitely sprained, bad,” the blue-maned unicorn answered, gently setting Prowl’s wing in bandages. “We should take a look at it at the hospital.”
“I’m fine,” Prowl growled at them.
“Sergeant, all due respect, it’s a damn miracle that you lot got out of this with only some relatively minor injuries,” the unicorn replied coolly. “Somepony up there must really like you. But I must insist on having your wing checked at the hospital. There could be some muscle damage that I’m missing.”
Prowl fumed silently, but Bumblebee walked up and laid a hoof on her shoulder. “Hey, partner, you really should let ‘em look,” he said, still speaking a little louder than normal. “Wouldn’t want your wing falling off later.”
Prowl looked up at him for a couple of beats, then sighed. “Fine. But unless it needs surgery, you’re just gonna patch me up and get me out.”
“Deal,” the unicorn nodded. He and his partner then gently hefted the stretcher, carrying her into the back of the ambulance. The gray-maned earth pony inside helped them in, setting Prowl down next to the stretcher with Trace laying atop it.
“Still with us, Detective?” the unicorn paramedic asked, hopping up into the back of the ambulance.
“I’d like to not be,” Trace groaned, turning his head towards the speaker and adjusting the cold pack on his forehead.
Phillip walked up to the ambulance, holding up a hoof to stop the medics from closing the doors. “You’re gonna be fine, Trace,” he said to the other stallion.
Trace looked up to fix him with an upside-down gaze. “Phil, of course I’m gonna be fine,” he stated. “I can’t just leave Sweetpea in your hooves. She wouldn’t last a week.”
Phillip managed to smile briefly. “Say hi to Red for me.”
What little humor there was in Trace’s eyes instantly vanished and he stared back up at the ceiling of the ambulance. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Listen, take it easy on the clutch. Sweetpea doesn’t like it if you force it. And if she doesn’t start on the first turn of the key, just gently pump the gas a bit. I've been meaning to get the intake valve replaced.”
“Right, will do,” Phillip nodded, stepping back. The paramedics slammed the doors shut and the ambulance sped down the street, siren blaring.
Phillip stared after it for several moments of silence, then slowly walked back to the Commander. He patted the pale golden brown hood, letting out a breath. “He’ll be fine,” he muttered.
“Are you talking to a car?” Flash asked, walking up to him.
“No,” Phillip grunted, withdrawing his hoof. “Okay, you need to get a report in at the precinct, and I need—”
“Bishop Nine, Bishop Nine, 21 for Finder,” the radio in the Commander buzzed.
Phillip stared for a beat, then opened the door and grasped the hoofset, clicking the microphone. “This is Finder,” he stated.
“Finder, 21 Dispatch ASAP,” the radio replied. “Daring on line for you, urgent.”
Phillip felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Copy,” he stated into the microphone and dropped it, not even bothering to place it back on the stand. He sprinted back into the house, pushing through the front door. There’d been a phone in the living room...there! He snatched it up and sighed with relief when he heard a dial tone.
Phillip spun the dial to 0. The line rang once, then clicked. “Operator, PPD Dispatch,” he grunted.
“Stand by,” the female operator stated in a bored tone. There was a series of clicks as the line was reconnected, then another voice picked up.
“Ponyville Poli—”
“This is Finder. Put me through to Daring,” he barked into the phone, his heart tapping against his chest.
“Hold on,” the voice stated. There was one last click, then he finally heard her voice.
“Phil?”
“Where are you? Are you okay?” he burst out, suddenly noticing that he was pacing in a small circle.
“Well, I haven’t been eaten by a shark,” Daring chuckled, then winced. “I did get whacked in the head a couple times, but I’m fine. Listen…”
Phillip listened as she gave him a reiteration of her and Rainbow’s adventures of the morning, his heart continuing its frantic dance inside in his chest. When she finally concluded with their rescue from the sinking car, the pressure that had been curdling in his gut finally burst.
“What were you thinking?!” he shouted.
“We do not have time for this,” Daring cut him off. “Listen, I already told Dispatch their address, they’ve got some officers on their way. But more importantly, Gear Shift is gonna try to kill the Mayor.”
“You sure?” Phillip asked.
“I saw an apron in their hideout,” Daring stated. “It had the same logo as that restaurant that’s across the street from the Mayor’s apartment. Some Prench place. No other reason they’d want to get in there.”
Phillip nodded, his heart rate slowing; he had a mission before him, a goal, and now a plan needed to be formed. “So he’s headed there,” he nodded. “I’ll get over there ASAP. And you need to go to a hospital.”
“Ugh, you too?” Daring groaned.
“Daring…” Phillip scolded.
Daring sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Ambulance is here anyway, I gotta go.”
“Okay. Take care of yourself,” Phillip stated.
“Phil, wait,” Daring interrupted, her voice suddenly quiet. “You’ve got to save the mayor, but…” She sighed. “They’re not evil. They’re like I was, once. So, if you can...just don’t kill him.”
Phillip nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Okay,” Daring nodded, then groaned in pain. “I’m gonna go now.”
“Wait,” Phillip said. “I love you.”
He heard her smile in the brief pause, the soft exhalation through her nostrils. “Love you, too.” And then, with a click, she was gone.
Phillip hung up, feeling like a stone had been inserted in his chest. He took in a deep breath, then exited the house, moving at a quick trot back to the car.
“What’s up?” Flash asked.
“Change of plans,” Phillip stated, pulling the keys that he’d taken from Trace out of the pocket of his vest. “Gotta get to the Mayor’s apartment right quick.”
“Right!” Flash snapped off a salute, then ran back to his motorcycle. Bumblebee trotted back to his cruiser, diving into the driver’s seat.
Phillip climbed into the driver’s seat of the Commander, inserting the key into the ignition and turning it. The engine coughed and rumbled, but didn’t seem to want to turn.
“Come on, Sweetpea,” he muttered, gently pumping the gas and turning the key again. This time, the engine turned over with a roar. Shifting into reverse, Phillip backed out onto the road, then shifted forward, being careful to lightly push the clutch as he did so. Flipping on the siren, he led the group northward to the Mayor’s apartment.
Le Goût de la Maison was nearing the start of the dinner rush. The waiters in their fine black suits and dresses calmly but quickly served the customers that sat at the circular tables, the whole room lit only by the white candles atop the tables and the faint, rainbow-tinted rays from the crystal chandelier that hung from the grand ceiling. Busponies, each of them wearing a white apron with an imprinted soup bowl and baguette, hurried to collect any leftover cutlery and plates and carry them off through the swinging doors into the kitchen. The live orchestra sat atop the small stage in the corner, preparing their instruments.
Amidst all the movement, a gray pegasus, his slicked dark blue mane and beard shiny with hair grease, walked into the restaurant, dusting off the front of his apron. Gear Shift quickly spotted a wheeled cart with a bin of soapy water atop it standing abandoned in a corner, the buspony currently busy speaking to another customer. On soft, silent hooves, he zipped in and took the cart, carrying it off towards the swinging doors labeled “Employees Only.”
As he bumped through the doors, he entered a world that was completely different than the one he had just left. A thin haze of smoke and steam hung in the air, a dozen different odors mingling within: cooked hay, fresh fruit, grilled vegetables, fish and eggs, and so many more. Dozens of overlapping voices mixed with the clattering of dishes and the sizzling of food being cooked. Chefs bustled back and forth, bending over their stations and shouting instructions and requests to one another. Towards the back of the kitchen was a set of swinging doors with a punch-clock next to it.
Gear Shift continued onwards, his head held high, eyes set on the conveyor for the dishwasher in the back. First rule of making a disguise work: sell it. If you act like you belong, everypony else will assume that you do.
He glanced up briefly at the security crystal in the wall, the narrow blue eye seeming to watch him out of the corner of its gaze. He felt a shiver run down his spine, but he kept moving forward. Showing signs of nervousness would just attract attention to him later if they checked the image. Besides, he’d combed his mane to differentiate himself from his mug shots, and his cutie marks of a wrench and a tire were both covered by the false cutie mark stickers of a deliberately generic image of the flowers. He was invisible, so long as he didn’t draw attention to himself.
And sure enough, nopony bothered the stallion in the apron striding confidently towards the dishwasher. Gear Shift dropped the dishes onto the rolling conveyor, where they journeyed towards the steaming washer. Gear then glanced around. Nopony was paying any attention to him.
With a smirk, Gear walked towards the door in the back, giving a brief nod to an incoming sous-chef. The portly mare barely glanced at him, already barking orders at another worker.
Passing through the door, he found himself in a hallway, with only a black carpet and pale off-white walls, a sharp contrast from the dining room that he’d just left. A door to his left allowed access to the stairs. cross from him was a window.
Just under twenty feet away through the window, a bulletproof pane of glass set in a brick wall stared back at him. Behind, the Mayoral Suite, and his target.
Gear Shift felt the weight of the weapon in his shirt pocket and checked his wing pouch for the little glass vial. Inside, he knew, was a Thanatan Potion, with a single hair inside. A hair from the head of Margaret Mare. If he were to imbibe the potion, it wouldn’t affect him at all (though Bright Sparks warned him that serious indigestion and diarrhea weren't unheard of). But when Margaret Mare imbibed it, her organs would shut down one at a time over a period of agonizing hours until the dark magic of the potion reached her heart. And there was nothing that anypony could do to save her.
He didn’t know how Black Licorice had gotten it, and he didn’t want to know. All he was certain of, he was going to be the one to kill the Mayor and cut the head off of the beast of injustice that was Ponyville.
He breathed deep and remembered the soft smell of spices in her blonde mane. For you, Rosemary.
Gear Shift proceeded through the door to the stairs and headed upstairs. Another door opened up onto roof access. Cigarette butts and black stains from chew were scattered across the tiles, telling the tale of smoke breaks of long past.
Gear glanced around as he took a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket. There was nopony on the roof, but across the way, he spotted two police officers on the roof of the apartment building. His eyes went to the rifles slung across their backs; his heart trembled in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm as he inserted a cigarette into his mouth. One of the cops glanced at him, then leaned over the edge of the roof to study the alley beneath.
Deep breaths, Gear Shift told himself as he walked around the edge of the roof access, hiding from the officers' view. Deep breaths.
Reaching beneath the collar of his shirt, Gear Shift grasped the magic dog tags and whispered, “Latito.” A feeling like a wet blanket draped itself over him, sliding from his head all the way down to his tail. He glanced at his hoof and smirked as he saw that he could see right through the limb, which seemed to now be made of a faint mist, just barely distinguishable from the carpet behind it.
No time to waste; the spell didn't last very long, which was why they had to resort to this plan instead of just flying straight in.
Gear glanced around the corner of the roof access, ensuring that neither of the officers were facing his direction, then headed for the edge of the roof. Spreading his wings, he glided across the alleyway to perch atop the concrete ledges outside the Mayor’s window; from here, he could see what he already knew, that this window opened into the wide kitchen of the suite, with its marble countertops and a kitchen island that was the size of a dining room table. He waited in silence for a full minute, but there was no sign of anypony inside.
Taking a small putty knife out of his apron, he inserted it into the sash and carefully pried the lock open. Inch by inch, moving as slow as the minute hoof of a clock, he opened up the window just enough to allow him room and slipped inside. One hoof came down on the countertop with a catlike step, then the other. Breathing slowly and deeply, he slithered through the window and onto the floor.
The kitchen appliances were all top of the line and shone in the light through the window. Panning his gaze around, Gear Shift spotted his target: the coffee machine in the corner. He strode forward, step by silent step: all he had to do was pour the potion into the reservoir, close the window behind him, and let the officers see him head back downstairs.
The only sound was his own steps, slowly bringing him closer to his target…
When he was about two feet away from the machine, he realized that it was too quiet.
And that’s when the door burst open and a tall unicorn mare in a trenchcoat strode through, her icy blue eyes sweeping the room. The Chief!
Gear Shift’s heart froze and so did his limbs. A moment later, her eyes locked onto the vague outline of his body and narrowed. Her horn lit up, and then a cold wind grasped Gear’s limbs like claws.
He turned to run, but his movements were slowed by the cold sensation that bit down deep into his bones. He glanced down and was shocked to note that frost and snow were forming on his limbs and on his wings. He tried to dive for the window, but his hooves had frozen to the ground and his wings flapped uselessly against the dry air.
“You can cut the invisibility spell,” Cold Case instructed as more ponies arrived in the kitchen: police officers, and that damned detective himself, eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his hat, arm still in a sling. Gear Shift scowled but could do nothing as the mare’s magic tugged the dog tags from his neck, removing the spell and the blanket-like feeling that came with it.
“Thanks for the call, Finder,” Cold Case declared, striding forward and extracting a set of hoofcuffs from her pocket as two officers covered Gear.
Gear Shift shot a glare at Phillip, who just smirked at him. How had he…?
Daring. The traitorous bitch must’ve gotten away somehow and warned him!
His eyes went back towards the hoofcuffs. The chains. If he went back to Frostback, he’d never get out again. That hell would swallow him up forever, and if he didn’t die from a razor blade between the ribs, it’d be as a decrepit shell in the infirmary.
No! No, he wasn’t going back! He was taking all of these bastards to Tartarus with him!
Gear Shift reached one wing into his pocket and extracted the backup plan, all one and a half pineapple-shaped pounds of it. Raising the stolen frag grenade high, he plucked out the pin with a primary feather, grinning as he felt it drop to the ground.
But just as he let go of the explosive, Phillip Finder dived forward and seized the grenade in both hooves, grasping the safety lever tightly. Gear Shift wrapped his wing around the weapon, refusing to let it go, glaring at Phillip.
Phillip glanced down at the grenade. The fuse wasn’t lit, but if he let go, they were all dead. “Let go!” he ordered the pegasus.
“No,” Gear Shift growled, voice low and heavy.
“You don’t want to do this,” Phillip said, his gray eyes meeting Gear’s.
“Of course I do!” Gear Shift snapped back, eyes narrowed. Out of the corner of his gaze, he saw Cold Case trying to move around him to get a clear shot at the grenade, gesturing for the other officers to run and save themselves. “I came here to kill the Mayor, and if I can’t get her, then I’ll take you both!”
Phillip tried to gently tug the grenade away from Gear’s wing, the chill from Cold Case’s frost spell nipping painfully at his hooves, but he couldn’t yank it away without risk of dropping it. His mind raced frantically, and from the back dredges of his mind, he recalled Gear Shift’s file. Facts slid into place, and a desperate plan formed.
“I know about Rosemary,” he said quietly in spite of his frantically pounding heart, meeting Gear’s gaze gently, calmly. The pegasus flinched a bit at the name but didn’t speak. “I know about the shootout between the two gangs. I know that she got caught in the middle,” Phillip continued.
“She died because of this city!” Gear Shift spat, a single tear forming in the corner of his eye. “She died because Mayor Bitch let the cops turn a blind eye, because she bowed and capitulated to the gangs!”
Cold Case’s eyes narrowed. “Margaret Mare only ever had this city’s—”
“Cold, let me do this,” Phillip interrupted, fixing her with a steady glare. Cold stared at him for a beat, then stepped back.
“Rosemary was a sweet girl,” Phillip continued to Gear, trying to ignore the sweat on his hooves that was already freezing against his wing, chilling the grenade. “She didn’t deserve to die. But Margaret Mare is not to blame for it: the scum who shot her is.”
“She’s the one who let it happen!” Gear Shift spat, though Phillip could feel his wing starting to tremble. “All of you, you’re all part of the scum that have run loose in this city! Standing by and letting it happen, and…” He glanced down at the grenade, his shaking more pronounced. More tears leaked from his eyes.
“Gear,” Phillip said quietly. “Look at what you’re doing. You’re trying to kill yourself and two other ponies.” He paused for a moment. “Rosemary wouldn’t have wanted this.”
Gear Shift trembled: a few more tears marked a path down his face. Cold Case had her jaw clenched, eyes still searching for a clear shot at the grenade, desperate fragments of a plan rushing past her irides.
“No one was ever punished for it,” Gear Shift breathed, his voice shaking as hard as his hooves. He took a breath, and his voice rose to a near-hysterical scream. “I want justice!”
“You’ll get it,” Phillip replied. “I will find out who did it.”
Cold Case and Gear Shift both blinked at him. “I…” Gear breathed, a faint glimmer of hope shining in his eyes. “You will?”
“I promise,” Phillip stated, nodding.
Gear Shift’s eyes darted everywhere: to Phillip, to Cold, to the grenade, to the window. Then they closed, more tears flowing from beneath the lid. He took a slow, shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Rosemary,” he choked out. Cold’s horn lit up, trying to tug Phillip away from the explosive…
And then Gear Shift slowly let go of the grenade, pulling his wing away. Phillip yanked the grenade back with a gasp and held it out to Cold Case, who quickly encased the grenade’s mechanism in ice, preventing it from triggering. Both ponies sighed as Phillip gently placed the weapon on the counter.
“You promised, Finder!” Gear Shift declared as Cold Case approached with hoofcuffs.
“And I meant it,” Phillip said, shrugging his wounded shoulder.
Not long after, a paddy wagon arrived and the defeated Gear Shift, his head hanging low, was carried into the back. He gave Phillip one last forlorn look as he sat down on the bench. Phillip gave him a nod just before the doors shut.
“There was a time when you wouldn’t have bothered trying to talk them down,” Cold Case remarked to Phillip as the wagon trundled away.
“I was different,” Phillip replied, watching the wagon turn the corner.
Cold Case stared at him for a long time, then grunted. “You’re a good stallion, Finder,” she admitted.
“The Mayor all right?” Phillip asked, turning to face her.
“Yes, we got her out of there as soon as you called,” Cold Case answered, turning and heading back. “I need to get back to her. Where are you going?”
“The hospital,” Phillip said to her retreating back. “I need to check on Daring, Trace, and Red.”
Cold paused but didn’t turn around. “They’ll be fine,” she said quietly after a moment, still not turning around.
“I know,” Phillip muttered to her and started back towards the Commander.
Stats
Page generated in 0.038 seconds
Total duration
872 users online
1,308,907 hits today, 2,280,440 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
Okay, I'd love to know why Daring would even consider commenting about being eaten by a shark. There has to be a story there.
And as for Gear Shift... I know I shouldn't be crying for him, but why am I...?
Awesome chapter as always, but there's no way it was that easy.
His mistake was over-complicating the plan. If he was flying and invisible, he should've skipped the restaurant altogether.
9592043
...shit, why the hell didn't I think of that?
Nice chapter as always chap. Gear shift reminds of Lt. Anderson from Detroit become human for some reason.
Still though, like the person before me, there is no way it's that easy. There's going to be something out of nowhere happening like in The Fillydelphia Solution.
9592089
Because you approached the problem from the writer's perspective: "I need a specific plot point to happen. How do I arrange the events towards it." It is a very common trap. That's how the GoT season 7 mess happened. Having a pre-reader look at the situation from the character's perspective helps sometimes.
9592148
How does he remind you of Anderson?
(Has never played or watched real gameplay of Detroit)
Good on you Finder now keep that promise.