Case Ten, Chapter Six: Pursuit
Cold Case scratched a few notes down on the notepad before her on the desk, keeping her head low so that she wouldn’t have to acknowledge Phillip and Daring’s presence. Scowling and shifting in place, Daring cast her gaze across the room, studying the rack of trench coats in the corner (All black? Jeez, lady, we all know you're miserable), the shooting trophies atop it, and finally, the growing clouds in the sky, visible in the floor to ceiling windows that made up the back wall of the police chief’s office.
Cold finally looked up and cleared her throat, her face impassive. “So, Professor Tome is safe, and we’ll be moving him to a safe house for his protection,” she stated. “The Rings are in our possession, and it seems that the ponies holding him were recently dismissed by Cerberus security.”
“You get anything out of them?” Phillip asked.
“Only that they were hired by an unknown benefactor to keep Professor Tome at the house until otherwise instructed,” Cold Case declared. “I doubt that we will be getting out more.” She scowled and placed her chin atop her steepled hooves. “However, that is not what I called you up here to discuss.”
“Here we go,” Daring rolled her eyes. “You’re going to ream into us about how we should’ve called you first and gotten a warrant. You wanna know something, Cold?” she snapped, thrusting her face forward over the desk like a stab from a knife, her nose stopping mere inches from the police chief’s. Cold, to her credit, did not so much as blink.
“If we’d waited, Tome would be dead by now,” Daring growled. “If we did things by the book, we’d have a body on our hooves. So either take the stick out of your ass or push it further up. I don’t need another one of your lectures.”
And with that, she turned and started to storm out of the office, ignoring Phillip’s attempt to grab at her. But as she reached the door, the doorknob suddenly became icy cold to the touch, the metal frosting over with a crackling.
“That’s not what I was going to say,” Cold Case said, her horn glowing with white power. “Come back here.”
Daring glared at her over her shoulder. “Please,” Cold added through her teeth, as though the effort of speaking pained her.
Daring grunted and trotted back over to stand in front of the desk. Phillip’s reproachful gaze bored into the side of her head.
“I can make...allowances at times,” Cold explained, blinking slowly as she spoke. “But I want you to understand the gravity of your actions. As consultants to the police, your actions reflect upon this department, and this city. If you’d broken into the wrong house, we’d be swamped in lawsuits right now.” She grunted. “I already went through one PR nightmare when I took this position, trying to prove that this department could be trusted. I cannot go through another with two vigilantes on the payroll.”
Her eyes slid to Daring’s right hoof. Daring gritted her teeth, but the pain raced up her limb just the same, the cursed brand burning and acid seeping through her veins, her heavily beating heart sending it coursing through her entire body. Thief. Killer. Criminal. Always.
“Just because you—” Daring started to say, but Phillip cut her off by clapping a hoof down on her shoulder.
“We know what we’re doing,” Phillip stated. “And all due respect, Cold, if the law in this city was perfect, Daring and I wouldn’t be necessary.” His eyes focused on a purple coin with a ten embossed upon it on the desk. “And we both know that we’re necessary,” he added quietly.
Cold stared at him silently for several beats, then let out a huff through her nostrils. “You mentioned you had a lead on Zugzwang.”
“We do,” Phillip nodded. “Once I get some more evidence, we should be able to narrow down the area where he might be staying.”
“Good,” Cold nodded. “Keep me posted, and make sure it’s aboveboard. If Zugzwang’s lawyers are anything like Scarlet’s, we’ll need an airtight case.”
“We’ll do that,” Phillip nodded as Daring turned to leave. He hesitated for a moment, then asked quietly, “You’ve almost earned that.”
Cold blinked and looked down at the purple coin, then nodded. “Six moons,” she agreed.
“You’re doing aces,” Phillip nodded. Cold just let out a quiet grunt and made a small dismissive gesture. Phillip exited the office, closing the door behind him.
“You could try being nice to her,” he grunted to Daring as they proceeded towards the stairs.
“When she stops being a bitch, maybe I’ll consider it,” Daring growled, breathing heavily through her teeth as she tried to force the pain down.
“I can accept you not liking each other,” Phillip sighed as they descended down the winding steps. “But we’re on the same team. Gotta try to keep in good graces.” He paused a beat as he rounded a landing. “Should’ve learned that lesson long ago.”
“If we’re on the same team, she could at least act like it,” Daring grunted, striking the door for the second floor like it had offended her so that it burst open. A couple of police officers looked up in shock as she stalked out, shooting them both a glare as she passed.
Phillip followed her in silence, watching as Daring pulled a flask out of an inner pocket in her vest and chugged down a swig of the strong-smelling contents. “Ugh,” she finally muttered, capping the flask and repocketing it, the scent of vanilla and honey clinging to her breath. “Fuck her.”
They proceeded down the hallway until they reached a large window. Peering inside, they saw Trace sitting across from Professor Tome. Tome was wrapped up in a spare trench coat and clutching a paper cup of steaming coffee.
“You sure you’re all right?” Trace asked, gently tapping the pen held in his magic against the notepad on the table. “We can take a break if you need.”
“No, no,” Tome said, shaking his head. “I am alright. Let’s just get this over with.”
“Right,” Trace nodded, looking back down at his notes. “So, tell me more about...the Lazarus Ritual. Some of your abductors had talked about it, right?”
“Yes,” Tome nodded. “I had been contacted about this by an anonymous benefactor a few days before my abduction, and some of my captors were also interrogating me about it. I’m going to tell you the same thing I told them.”
The professor took a breath and a long sip of coffee and spoke. “The Lazarus Ritual is a legend amidst those who study the pagan religions. It’s rumored to be the epitome of necromantic magics; the pony who uses the Ritual properly will be able to raise the dead, and turn them into their servants.”
“Do you really think that it’s true?” Trace asked.
“Of course not,” Tome scoffed. “Necromancy is a legend; the dead remain dead, and no magic can raise them again. But as I am a recorded expert in ancient languages and pagan magic, I can see how ponies who believed that it was real would probably be interested in...” He swallowed. “My assistance.”
“And how would the Ritual work?” Trace asked.
“The details are unknown,” Tome stated. “But I was given a section of an ancient text by my anonymous benefactor. It did state that the Ritual would require the power of several unicorns to complete, largely just focusing the necessary energy into the area of effect.”
“I see,” Trace nodded, scratching some notes down on the pad. “We’ll continue trying to find out who was behind this; in the meantime, we’ll be moving you to a police safehouse for your own protection.”
“I understand,” Tome nodded. “Could somepony just please remind Granite Table to continue studying the Umurqa Cipher? I think we’re near a breakthrough on translation.”
“Whatever you say, professor,” Trace nodded with a small smile, standing. “I’ll be back.” He exited the interview room and approached Phil and Daring; as soon as the door shut behind him, his face sagged as though he’d suddenly aged ten years.
“I swear, this shit just gets more and more bizarre every day,” he sighed, mopping his brow.
“Agreed,” Phillip nodded. “But let’s focus on finding Zugzwang.”
Ten days later, the morning sun hung high over Ponyville, focusing its heat down upon the city’s inhabitants as a thick haze hung in the air, chasing most ponies inside to where their air conditioners and fans awaited.
The haze hung particularly low over the Industrial District, trapped by the ever-present smog. Double Apex Road stood in the southeast part of the city, carving a straight path towards a bend in the Maresippi River. Most of this street consisted of low-end housing originally constructed for the wave of industrial workers, but there was one standout: a large brick building with a perfectly polished front window and a flashing neon billboard depicting two crossed pistols. The Boom Boom Bar was nearly as old as most of the factories that had turned Ponyville from a small farming village into a booming city, and to this day it was recommended near the top of every list of tourist attractions.
Daring didn’t really see what the appeal was. The bar was crowded and stank with the coalescing odors of alcohol, burgers, and sweat. The overlapping murmur of voices provided a constant, irritating background noise that drowned out the radio hanging over the bar, and the creaking wooden floor was covered in stains of indeterminate origin.
At the very least, they made a hell of a Manticore Rare vanilla milkshake. She sipped the concoction before her from a straw, smiling despite herself as the coolness flowed down her throat and into her veins, spreading across her body with a relieving touch. Clearing her throat, she reached up and adjusted the thick red-tinted spectacles and floppy sunhat, and smoothed out the long blue dress. It was a good thing that most of the ponies who were gathered at the eatery were also clothed—in coveralls, oiled jackets, windbreakers, and uniforms. It made her stand out less.
It also made the stallion in the back corner stand out less. The orange pegasus was slumped with his back against the wall, nursing a tumbler of cheap whiskey and a small basket of Prench fries, fedora drawn down low over his face to make it appear like he was sleeping. His body was adorned in a loose-fitting secondhoof light blue suit jacket, the seams visible from where it had been badly resized, and the whole thing, like the pegasus’ body, was covered in a layer of dust; but beneath the jacket, Daring could see the strap of his shoulder holster.
“You really think that this is gonna work?” Flash asked, pacing back and forth in front of Phillip. Phillip stood in the backyard, tossing a ball to himself. Every catch thumped rhythmically against his black, freshly-oiled glove. Daring watched from the back porch, swirling a mug of coffee laced with two sweeteners and a dash of bourbon.
“We put a lot of work into this, jackaroo,” Phillip stated, throwing the ball to him in a lazy overhoof loop. Flash caught it easily. It had become a ritual in the past couple of months; taking the time to toss the baseball back and forth in the yard and talk was soothing for both of them.
“Took two days for A&O Printing and Dhahabi Tobacco to both get back to me,” Phillip explained, opening up his glove to receive Flash’s returning throw. “Thankfully, they only had a few addresses they deliver to in this city.” He snorted. “Again, good thing Zugzwang has expensive tastes. Took Daring and me five days to cross off the names on the list to narrow down who's delivering the stuff to him.
“You know, that’s the first time I’ve had to sneak into a church and steal somepony’s horseshoes to get a soil sample,” Daring commented, taking a long sip of the Manticore Rare. Flash glanced over briefly but decided to ignore her, instead diving to catch a fastball.
“Zugzwang has two delivery ponies working for him: Sandy Winds and Rust Bucket,” Phillip continued. “One gets the tobacco, the other gets the rolling paper, both picked up from PO boxes in separate parts of the city every other week. Both of them are the kinds of ponies nopony would think twice about, especially the police. No criminal records, families, poor but honest. They’re completely separate individuals. Their lives only cross in one way.” He wound up and threw a sharp curveball at Flash, who jumped to catch it. “Nice catch. Told you you should try out for the PD’s baseball team.”
“So what’s the link?” Flash asked, winding up and throwing. The ball sailed clumsily through the air, rising a bit and then dropping low so quickly that Phillip had to dive to catch it, sliding across the grass.
“Careful, old stallion, don’t want to throw out that hip,” Daring chuckled as Phil stood up, brushing off his sweat-stained shirt. Phillip glared at her and walked back a few feet.
“Getting better, Flash,” Phillip nodded. “You’ve got the grip almost down pat, just need to learn to aim. Put your shoulder right into the catcher’s glove.”
“It’s not easy,” Flash shrugged.
“Nopony gets a curveball right the first time,” Phillip reassured him. “Or even the tenth time. Now, watch.” He drew his arm back, hoof gripping the ball lightly by the seams, and threw the ball with a harsh snap. The ball curved high and landed right in Flash’s glove.
“The link is, both of them, for some reason, have recently gone to the same southeast area of the Industrial District,” Phillip stated. “Confirmed it with soil samples from their shoes, and then asked around in the neighborhood to find out where they’d gone. Both of them, once every other week, visit the same bar. The Boom Boom Bar on Double Apex Road. And that’s where we’re going to go.”
“Any point in trying to question these guys?” Flash asked, winding up and throwing out a sharp line drive that slammed into Phillip’s glove like a cannonball, prompting a yelp of pain.
“No,” Phillip replied, taking his glove off and shaking his hoof out. “They won’t know anything, they’re just getting paid to drop off the packages. Not even illegal.” He wound up and threw a returning line drive.
Flash caught the ball and tossed it to himself a few times, his face creased in thought. “Mate, you don’t have to join us if you don’t want to,” Phillip said. “It’s your day off; you’re not even on duty.”
“I…” Flash sighed and tossed the ball into his glove one last time. “I’m going to be honest, part of me says I should stay out of this. That’s…that’s why I came here earlier. To talk, not just to try to calm down beforehoof. I mean...it’s Zugzwang.” He shivered a bit and looked down.
“Nothing wrong with being scared,” Phillip stated, striding forward. “Scared means you’re more alert. Faster. Stronger. Tougher.” He placed a hoof on Flash’s shoulder. “Doesn’t mean the fear has to rule you.”
Flash nodded grimly. “If I back off from this, I might as well turn in my badge,” he said.
Phillip smiled and nodded, patting Flash on the shoulder. “Good on you, mate. Proud of you.”
Flash smiled thinly. “You’ll be there with me, right?” he asked.
“Every step of the way,” Phillip reassured him. “And the rest of the team will be nearby.”
“We’d best get going, guys,” Daring said, glancing at her watch and noting the time as being near 8:30. “Our delivery ponies will be on their way by now.”
“Right,” Phillip nodded, tossing the ball and glove back onto the porch. “C’mon, mate.”
“You sure we gotta mess up my best suit?” Flash asked, frowning in concern.
“That’s your best suit?” Daring asked beneath her breath, prompting glares from both stallions.
Sandy and Rust had already come and gone, and they had both left behind their packages. Daring took another sip of her drink and adjusted the glasses, studying the reflection of the trash can in front of the restrooms in the tiny mirror glued to the inside of the lens. She could just see the two envelopes placed atop the pile of garbage inside.
“You planning on staying here all day?” the bartender, a tall light brown griffon female asked, wiping off the bar. “You been here for almost three hours now.”
“Until you run out of these, I ain’t got anywhere else to be,” Daring replied, licking her lips.
The bartender shrugged. “Long as you got the bits.”
The door to the stallion’s bathroom swung open, catching Daring’s attention. She watched in the mirror as a tall earth pony stallion, his lean green body adorned in a short-sleeved shirt and his long brown mane tangled with sweat, exited the bathroom, pausing to adjust his mane. His blue eyes darted around to make sure nopony was watching him too closely, then his hoof dove into the trash can, seizing both packages and tucking them beneath his shirt in a movement so quick, Daring wouldn’t have seen it if she wasn’t watching for it.
The stallion proceeded towards the door, weaving through the crowd of ponies. Daring coughed into her hoof and reached up to scratch her left ear.
Back in the corner, Flash lowered his mouth to the walkie-talkie concealed beneath his coat. “Daring has the target,” he whispered into it.
Across from the Boom Boom Bar, hidden behind the curtained windows of an apartment building, Red Herring lifted a pair of field binoculars, the lenses replaced with purple crystals, to his eyes. Through the enchanted vision, he saw the green stallion exit the bar, his hooves appearing to glow with glittering blue light.
“I see the glitter dust,” he reported, grinning. “Damn, that stuff’s cool; totally invisible unless you see it through these. Nice job putting all that on, Daring.”
“Bishop Nine to Dispatch, we have a visual on the target,” Trace stated into his walkie-talkie, keeping his eyes on their target. “He’s heading east on Double Apex Road.”
“Copy that, Bishop Nine,” the dispatcher’s voice replied, tinny through the earpieces that all of them were wearing. “There’re not many surveillance crystals in that area, but we’ll do what we can.”
“10-4, dispatch,” Trace confirmed. “We’ve got eyes on. Pawn Three, stand by; keep back until we call for you.”
“Roger, standing by,” Prowl’s voice replied.
As the green stallion trotted up to the curb and paused, Daring exited the Boom Boom Bar and started walking in the opposite direction. As soon as Daring rounded the corner of the bar, she spread her wings and flew up into the air, stripping off the hat, glasses, and dress and stuffing them into her enchanted bag as she flew up and over the building.
Flash exited the bar and started to follow the stallion down the road just as the light turned green. The green stallion stepped onto the crosswalk and crossed the street. Flash followed behind him as a dark brown earth pony stallion wearing a ball cap and a blue vest fell into step behind him.
“And here we go,” Red declared, exiting the apartment building.
“Bishop Nine is pursuing target,” Trace stated into the radio as he followed Red out.
“Stick to the plan, everypony,” Phillip’s voice grunted over their earpieces.
The five ponies pursued the stallion while Daring kept overhead, following from behind rooftops. Two or three stallions kept behind the target on the ground, switching in and out every few blocks, changing their clothes and putting on false cutie mark stickers to conceal themselves amidst the crowd. The green pony in the white t-shirt wandered up and down the Industrial District, frequently doubling back, wandering in circles around blocks, and making sudden turns to cross the street.
“You sure he’s not on to us?” Flash whispered to Red Herring as the two passed each other in midair over a cannery fifteen minutes after they had first picked up the tail. A cool wind blew in from the river to the south, chilling in the partially cloudy sky.
“If he did, he’d be trying harder to shake us,” Red grunted. “These are just ways to try to spot us.”
“Whoa, he just ducked into that alley!” Trace’s voice cried over the earpiece.
Red groaned and rolled his eyes. “I always speak too soon. Maybe that should be my special talent.”
“Everypony hang back,” Phillip ordered. “He’s trying to flush us out. I’m going around to intercept him. Daring, you see him?”
“No, there’s an awning over the alley,” Daring replied. “No, wait, there he is. He just exited the north end of the alley. Phil’s got him.”
Phillip, now dressed in a blue short-sleeved shirt and a dusty Pranceton Chimaeras baseball cap, spotted the green stallion turning away from him out of the corner of his eye. His target shifted slightly, and Phillip spotted the bulge of the packages beneath his shirt. Crossing the street, Phillip turned and followed from a block behind, pretending to study the contents of the shop windows, his eyes instead on the target’s reflection. He caught a glimpse of Red falling into step behind him on the opposite side of the street.
The sun suddenly came out from behind a cloud, shining down upon the street, and Phillip suddenly froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. He looked from the windows to the suspect, and his eyes showed him that he had not been tricked: the suspect cast no shadow on the sidewalk, unlike every other pony that he passed by.
Furthermore, Phillip noted, he was moving straight forward at a steady pace, never looking around. His motion looked...unnatural, somehow. Like watching a film on a loop…
His heart leaping into his throat, Phillip sprinted across the street, ignoring the blaring of car horns and screeching tires, barely acknowledging Red’s bark of shock in his ear. He ran right up to the messenger pony, who didn’t turn around or acknowledge him and reached out to grab his shoulder.
His hoof went right through the stallion’s skin. A moment later, before everypony’s shocked eyes, the green earth pony faded away and vanished.
“The fuck?!” Red cried.
“Illusion spell,” Phillip growled, grabbing his walkie-talkie. “Dispatch, there was a surveillance crystal on Concrete and Hound Street. Check that for anypony who came out of that alley.”
“Stand by,” the dispatcher’s voice replied. Several tense seconds passed by as Phillip paced in a small circle and Red fidgeted in place, wings flapping slightly as he prepared to take flight.
“Got ‘em,” Dispatch finally declared. “I’ve got a female unicorn exiting the alleyway and heading back west. Blue coat, silver mane, bobby pin cutie mark, pink dress.”
Almost before the dispatcher finished talking, Red took off into the air, headed southwest. Phillip sprinted after him, then jumped into the air as a familiar whistle sounded faintly in his ears. Daring seized him at the apex of his jump, arcing up into the air and following Red. An orange streak shot into the air after them.
“Hey, wait for me!” Trace yelled, sprinting after them down the street.
“Dispatch to Bishop Nine, I’ve got the suspect,” Dispatch reported. “They’re waiting at the trolley stop on Hound and Triple Clover.”
“Drop me off behind the building,” Phillip said to Daring, who nodded, sweat staining her brow.
They soon closed in on the trolley stop, a small white cabin-like structure on the street. As the pegasi passed overhead, they did indeed see a blue unicorn with a long, silvery mane sitting on the bench, reading a small paperback. They also saw the trolley trundling up the street, brakes squealing and clattering.
“Hang on,” Red suggested as they banked around towards the back of the bicycle shop behind the stop. “Let’s just get eyes on her and—Flash, what the hell are you doing?!”
Flash had dived out of the sky and swooped down on the trolley stop like a hawk attacking a field mouse. He landed in front of the trolley stop, one hoof going to his holster and one wing snapping open to reveal a badge.
“Police, don’t move!” he barked to the startled unicorn, his cry prompting her to drop her book.
“Sentry, you idiot,” Red growled, following him down along with Phillip and Daring.
“I have done nothing!” the unicorn protested, sitting statue-still in her seat, eyes darting around as though searching for an escape.
Flash hesitated in uncertainty, suddenly aware that he may have made a mistake. “I…” He shook his head and refocused, removing his hoof from his holster. “We just need to check something, ma’am.”
“This is police brutality!” the mare protested, scooting away from them. “I do not—”
Red took out the binoculars and briefly held them up to his eyes as Trace sprinted up, calling for backup between gasps for air. Through the enchanted vision, he observed the bright blue glitters around the mare’s hooves.
“Okay, Flash, take her in,” Red nodded.
But as Flash approached the mare, her horn flared with a golden glow and a channel of force rushed out of her, sending Red, Flash, and Daring flying back.
“Wandjina!” Phillip shouted, flinching in anticipation. The magic rammed into him like a battering ram, shoving him back a couple of feet and knocking the air from his lungs, but the majority of the force washed over him like a tidal wave. Instantly, he surged forward, tackling the mare against the wall. She bellowed in fury, her voice suddenly deepening to a snarl.
But as his hooves clutched at her skin, he felt a strange electrical tingling beneath the frogs, and then he was suddenly hit with the scent of Saddle Arabian tobacco from her breath.
And then he heard the snick of a blade and pulled away just in time; the hidden blade that had seemingly appeared from thin air beneath the mare’s hoof cut through his vest and scraped against his ribs with a cold embrace.
He tightened his grip on the suspect’s foreleg and twisted, clumsily throwing her to the ground in an impromptu armbar. She tripped over his leg and fell to the concrete with a crash.
“Scheisse!” the suspect cried again in their uncannily deep, familiar, voice as the illusion spell melted away completely. The dress was replaced with a black suit and tie; the blue coat became tan, the silvery hair darkened into walnut, and the furious blue eyes became black as holes.
Phillip nearly released his captive in shock, his heart freezing in his chest for half a moment. It was long enough for Zugzwang to light up his horn, the appendage flashing gold briefly.
Heart racing, breath catching, Phillip’s hoof raced for his baton as Zugzwang started to push himself up; but then, a yellow aura surrounded the unicorn’s body and he was pulled to the ground as though gravity had increased its merciless hold on him, drawing another surprised curse as his jaw crashed against the concrete, blood flying from his split lip.
Trace finally reached them, panting and gasping. He paused in front of Zugzwang, who glared up at him in cold fury.
“We got you, you son of a bitch,” Trace said with a grin, drawing hoofcuffs from his belt as the others regained their hooves, snapping them on Zugzwang’s wrists.
Sirens filled the air as responding officers closed in. Zugzwang went still in defeat, his eyes turning up and focusing on Phillip, as though he were the only other pony there. The fury had faded from his eyes, leaving behind only cold, empty neutrality.
And then, just as the first cruiser’s tires were bouncing against the curb, a small smile slowly, almost imperceptibly, crept up his face.
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Ain't that the truth...
Jeez, my nerves were on edge this whole chapter, really. Like seriously, nice work!
...And y'all just played right into his hands. Putting him in the station is right where he wants to be.
Congratulations you played yourselves
So much black... we get it, you're sad
Are these cuffs antimagic somehow? because with the likes of Zungwang, restraining his limbs is the least of their worries.
As I believe I've previously commented... There is no way in Tartarus it was that easy.
9718534
Yes. Police hoof cuffs are equipped with a charm that disables the wearers magic and makes them sluggish.
Why am I getting flash backs to the Joker getting caught in The Dark Knight?
Probably because Zugzwang always has a plan and Josiah enjoys messing with us.
9724173
Yes. Yes, I do.
So a yay for victory?!
Is the boom boom bar a reference to the Roadhouse (aka the Bang Bang bar) from Twin peaks? The similar names and your descriptions reminded me of it.
Regardless, loved the chapter. I'm intrigued as to what will happen now that Zugzwang has been apprehended.
10581961
Glad someone finally caught that!
Somewhere out in the multiverse, the Joker is smiling in approval.