A Dance With Death

by Dee Pad

Chapter 14 - Solo Performance

"You think they're alive?"

Samba nodded in response to Leaf's question. "That's what Limbo and Night Owl figure. So that's good news at least."

Leaf observed the conflicted look on Samba's face as she stared out over Horseshoe Bay. "But you're still mad at her, I take it."

"I'm not mad," she answered with a sigh. "Just a little irritated. Like you said, she deserves some time off, but it's like relaxing is not in her genes."

"I mean, she's pretty laid back all the time really. Not like Bubble Gust. Investigating is essentially how she unwinds."

"But that doesn't mean she shouldn't actually take time off." Samba leaned lazily against the railing overlooking the shoreline. "I don't know, maybe I just want some company while I watch Pira for the weekend."

"I'm not disagreeing with you about her taking a break. If she goes in too hard, her recklessness is gonna catch up to her. And by extension, you."

Samba looked him in the eye. He had a concerned, almost warning expression on his face.

"Her actions are just as likely to put you in danger as they are her. And the closer you get to the Ghost, the more dangerous it's going to get."

"I know that. It's... not like I intended to get this deep into the investigation with her. Kinda just started as her assistant, helping with information gathering. Didn't expect to get directly involved with a hostage situation and a heist within the first week."

"Exactly my point. It doesn't exactly sound like she has your well being in mind."

"It's not like she threw me into those situations herself. We were all locked in during the expo, and I went after that kidnapper of my own accord. Mostly. Limbo gave me a bit of a talking-to after that one."

"But she's brought you along for every other occasion. Like when you were tailing my brother. That could've been dangerous, yet she brought you along. I feel like the least she could do is repay you with some rest and relaxation."

"Not like she isn't trying, but she's clearly having difficulty adjusting to the sudden decrease in speed."

Leaf happened to glance over his shoulder. What he saw some distance away made him grimace slightly. "No kidding."

Samba followed his gaze, spotting Limbo having a chinwag with a pair of police officers—Paddy and Siren, if she recalled, though she wasn't sure which was which. She scowled at the sight. "Seriously? She really can't just sit still for five minutes? Honestly, she's more trouble than Pira."

"You gonna give her a talking-to of her own?" Leaf presumed expectantly.

"Dang straight."

Leaf's spellphone suddenly began to vibrate in its sleeve. He removed it to check what it was. "Hm."

Samba briefly looked back at him. "What's up? Something wrong?"

Leaf shook his head, slipping the phone back into its sleeve. "Nah, but I do have to take care of something. I have to go. I'll catch you later, Samba."

"Alright, bye," she bid him as he went on his way. She didn't loiter at all, though, already having a few choice words for the distracted detective.

Meanwhile, Limbo wasn't exactly having a fun time chatting with her former colleagues.

"Your 'day off'?" Limbo echoed doubtfully.

"Yeah. We know you like to work yourself to the bone, Limbo, but we need our R&R every now and then," Paddy told her.

"You expect me to believe that, with how busy Owl claims the B.P.D. is right now, that he let you take the day off?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" asked Siren.

"Because you're in uniform," the detective pointed out. "You're not taking a day off, you're playing hooky. I'd bet anything you two are on your way to the salon right now."

"N-No," Paddy denied, though her blue coat displayed her telling blush better than her twin sister's would.

Limbo just shook her head. "I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to talk to you two."

"My thoughts exactly."

Limbo's fur bristled at the sound of Samba's voice behind her. She preemptively forced a grin as she turned around, expecting and finding a rather disgruntled look on the dancer's face. "Oh, h-hey, Samba. Done talking to Leaf already?"

"Something came up. He had to go," she stated tersely. "What are you doing?"

Limbo groaned. "Alright, look, they were passing by, I figured I'd just ask a super quick question about the investigation. Where's the harm in that?"

Samba narrowed her eyes at her. It seemed like a minor infraction barely worth getting upset over, but considering that Leaf agreed with her about making Limbo relax, she felt justified in reprimanding her. "We had a long discussion about this last night, Limbo."

"If it makes you feel any better, they were pretty useless, as usual."

Siren pouted, insulted. "Hey! We're right here."

"That's not the point, Limbo," Samba continued. Her annoyance began to shift to slight hurt. "You promised. Why is this so hard for you?"

"It was just a couple of minutes. Seriously, you're making a mountain out of a molehill."

"Tell that to Pira. She was pretty disappointed in me when she thought I broke a promise. You wanna disappoint her too?"

Limbo grimaced at her. "Is that the consequences you're going with? Look, I like the kid, but I'm not gonna base all my morals on making her happy. I'm not her mother."

"Where is she anyway?" Samba asked, looking around the nearby area. "I told her to keep you company."

"Relax, she's with Mandible."

"Where, exactly?" Samba asked again, unable to spot them.

"On that bench over—" Limbo paused as she pointed to the bench the three of them had been sat upon a few minutes earlier, which was now empty. "—there... Um..."

Samba looked back at Limbo, her pupils shrinking with a mixture of anger and panic, and her voice shaking slightly. "Limbo..."

"Okay, just stay calm," Limbo told her, holding her hooves up defensively. "They probably just went to get a snack or something."

"You left her alone with a relative stranger to go talk to your old buddies, and now they're gone! How am I supposed to stay calm?!" Samba yelled.

"What? I thought we trusted Mandible. Besides, you left her with me to go chat with Leaf. How is that any different?"

"I don't have time for this! I need to find her! Pira!"

Samba called out, but received no response from her daughter. So she shouted louder and louder, hoping that eventually Pirouette would hear her. But she only managed to grab the attention of everypony else in the park, and Pirouette and Mandible were nowhere to be seen. The longer she went without hearing her daughter, the more the panic began to set in, her vision getting a little blurry, her heart racing, and her legs shaking.

"What's her deal?" Paddy asked in confusion.

"I dunno. Her dog run away or something?" Siren guessed.

Samba turned to the twins desperately. "My daughter's missing! Help me look for her!"

"It's our day off," Siren told her with slight annoyance.

"You're cops!" Samba responded angrily. "Somepony goes missing, you don't just ignore it!"

"You're better off asking a brick wall for help," Limbo deadpanned, sneering at the two officers.

"I don't have time for this! Pira!" Samba continued calling out to her daughter, rushing off across the park to cover more ground and hopefully find her and Mandible.

Limbo made to follow her, but stopped briefly to look back at Paddy and Siren. "Why'd you two even become cops?"

"The uniforms are cute," Paddy stated matter-of-factly.

Limbo just rolled her eye and made to catch up to Samba.

The distressed mother frantically scoured the park for any sign of her daughter, but no matter where she looked, she couldn't spot either of them. The longer she searched and the more she shouted without any acknowledgement just filled her mind with further dread, giving her the time to paint a picture in her head that became more and more terrifying the more details her subconscious added. At this point, she needed to try something else. Samba set her sights on the closest person, who happened to be a passing mare, trotting through the park on her own. Without thinking, Samba abruptly pulled her aside, much to the mare's surprise.

"Excuse me, y-you wouldn't happen to have seen a little unicorn filly with a changeling mare around recently, have you?" Samba asked her, requiring every ounce of her willpower just to keep her voice from trembling too much.

The mare seemed a little apprehensive at first, but upon hearing the question, smiled. "Oh, were they both purple?"

A little hope welled within Samba. "Yes, that's them! You saw them?!"

Limbo caught up at that moment, listening in.

The mare nodded. "Yeah, I thought it was sweet that a changeling would adopt a pony child. It was cute. I'm happy for them," she commented.

"Uh, actually, that was my daughter."

"Oh. Well, then I'm happy for the three of you."

"N-No, we're not—ugh, nevermind. Did you see which way they went?"

The mare pointed behind herself, towards a street corner leading away from the park. "Yeah, they went around the corner there. Whoa!" She nearly fell over as Samba immediately ran past her without saying so much as thank you.

Limbo rushed to catch her again, finding it a little surprising that Samba could move so quickly. She followed her around the street corner, finding Samba once again looking around frenetically and repeatedly calling out to Pirouette. But, like before, she received no response from her daughter. At this point, Limbo figured it was safe to assume they weren't within earshot anymore, and given they could have gone in any number of directions after turning that corner, it would be haphazard to just run off in a random direction in search of them. Instead, Limbo took a more careful look at her immediate surroundings, putting her detective skills to use and scanning for anything that could be a clue.

She happened to pass by an alleyway, briefly peering down into the relative darkness. A glint of something happened to catch her eye, and she was pretty sure she knew what it was.

"Hey, Samba!"

Samba managed to halt her own search long enough to divert her attention to Limbo, hoping that she may have found something. She hurried over to her side without a word. Limbo, too, said nothing, simply pointing down the alley towards the object lying on the ground.

Samba cautiously entered the alley, her concern over her daughter overriding any frightful memories that the location might have been trying to conjure up. When she stood over the object, her heart rate rose considerably.

Laying on the ground was her spellphone, a small web of cracks snaking across the screen from the impact of hitting the concrete.

Samba found herself short of breath, her pupils shrinking in horror as her fears manifested as the truth. She let out a shrill scream, her voice reverberating through the narrow alley.

Limbo walked up behind her, remaining calm despite what had obviously happened to Pirouette. One of them had to keep a level head and think about this clearly, and Samba was certainly in no state to be that person, sitting on her haunches, hooves on her head as she stared down at her phone, and hyperventilating something fierce.

"Samba, you have to calm down," Limbo instructed her.

Samba shot a harsh glower over her shoulder, her fiery anger contrasted by the moisture forming in her eyes. "You keep saying that like it's so easy! Your daughter didn't just get kidnapped by somecreature you thought you could trust!"

"I get that you're upset right now, but we need to approach this with logic and reason. Remember: we learned recently that the Ghost is likely keeping their victims alive, so Pira's probably okay. For now anyway."

Samba felt her temple throb, adding icy daggers to her fiery glare as she bore a hole through Limbo with her eyes. "Are you kidding me?!"

Limbo flinched, taking a step back in response to the outburst.

"What does the Ghost have to do with this?! There's nothing to suggest that the Ghost is involved here! All you're doing with that assumption is proving the point I've been trying to make all weekend! All you can think about is the stupid Ghost! And that's the reason why this even happened! Because you couldn't go one freaking day without thinking about it! You just had to talk to those two idiots, didn't you?! It's your fault she disappeared!"

"My fault? For taking a few minutes to talk?" Limbo retaliated. "What about you? You also left your daughter with two relative strangers to chat up Leaf."

"You think I don't know that?!"

Limbo winced again, having not expected that.

Samba's tears started flowing freely down her cheeks. "I've been telling you since I met you that I'm a bad mom. But you were a cop! I thought I could trust you with her safety more than I would trust myself. I'm not putting all the blame on you, no, but this just proves how bad your singlemindedness can be!"

Limbo's ears folded back. She wasn't going to say Samba was wrong. From the moment they noticed that Pirouette wasn't around, the guilt started to manifest slowly. And now that they had confirmed the filly's disappearance, that guilt only became greater.

However, Limbo was a determined mare, not one to let a wrong go un-righted. She steeled her one-eyed gaze in an effort to instill confidence in Samba. "I promise I'll find her. I swear to you."

Samba just sneered at her in response. "Yeah? Just like you promised to find my stalker? How's that going by the way?" she asked rhetorically and with an uncharacteristic amount of venom.

Limbo flinched at her accusatory tone. "Alright, that's not fair. You were the one who wanted to help look for the Ghost, remember?"

"I wanted to help you in general," she reminded her. "I didn't think we'd spend all of our time hunting the Ghost, but I'm starting to understand why we were." Samba furrowed her brow. "Let me ask you a question: Aside from my stalker, how many active cases do you have right now that aren't related to the Ghost?"

Limbo hesitated. "Um... Does Mandible's brother count?"

Samba shook her head. "See, this is what I'm talking about. I know you want to help people, but you're too single-minded! When you set your sights on something, you shut everything out!"

"Come on, I'm not that bad," Limbo responded, though her voice was steadily growing quieter beneath Samba's verbal assault.

"My daughter just went missing!" Samba shouted, the words causing tears to begin rolling down her cheeks. "And the first thing you assume, with no evidence to back it up, is that it must've been the Ghost! Why would they kidnap a little girl?!"

"That's what we need to think about, but in order to do that, you need to—"

Samba stomped over to her, prodding Limbo firmly in the chest. "No, you need to think about it. I don't have time to think. I have to find her. If you wanna save those people from the Ghost, then by all means, but I've got more important things to worry about right now."

With that, Samba brusquely brushed by Limbo and stomped hurriedly out of the alley. Limbo made to chase after her, but whenever she got close, Samba would just quicken her pace to put distance between them.

"Samba, hang on! You aren't seriously thinking about going after her by yourself, are you? That's crazy! You could get hurt!"

Samba spun around, her eyes full of anger and tears. "Stop following me! Leave me alone! I told you I'd find her myself! I don't want your help!"

Having made herself abundantly clear, Samba galloped off, leaving Limbo behind feeling dejected and very worried.

Samba turned the street corner and continued running down the block, leaving a trail of tears on the sidewalk behind her. Perhaps on instinct, she chanced a glance over her shoulder to see if Limbo was still being stubborn and following her. She wasn't. All she could see were random strangers staring at the crying mare running down the street. She slowed her gallop down to a trot, then a canter, until she finally stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, crying openly now about the distressing situation.

How could she have let this happen? How could she be so inept as a mother that she'd allow her own daughter to be kidnapped right out from under her nose? She knew it wasn't entirely Limbo's fault, but she was still too emotional to think about going back now. She wasn't even sure how she was supposed to go about finding Pirouette. She made that claim based on pure emotion; she had no idea where to even begin looking. It wasn't like the kidnapper left behind any sort of clue...

Samba suddenly jumped when she felt her spellphone vibrate. She'd honestly forgotten she even had it; she didn't even remember slipping it back into its sleeve. Either way, it wasn't like it mattered. It was probably Rhapsody texting to check up on Pirouette.

And that was another issue entirely. How was she supposed to tell Rhapsody? Should she tell him? After everything he's said and everything she's done, would he even be surprised?

As much as she didn't want to, Samba reluctantly decided to check the text, if for no other reason just to make sure it didn't buzz again to remind her to check. She listlessly pulled out her phone, turning on the cracked screen. At least now she new the damage was only external, for as little comfort as that could be in this situation.

Samba's eyes suddenly widened. It wasn't from Rhapsody. In fact, where it would normally display the sender's name, it instead said, "Unknown Name." But more important than that was the text itself.

Follow my instructions.

She just sat there, staring at the concise message in silence, her emotionally-addled brain trying to decipher the meaning behind it. It had to be from the kidnapper. There was no other logical explanation. And if that was the case, then perhaps these "instructions" were an indication that Pirouette was okay and she had a chance to save her after all. She just had to do as the kidnapper asked. The only problem was that there were no instructions. She continued to sit there, staring with anticipation and some cautious optimism that she'd be told what she needed to do, but she didn't receive another text. Samba sighed. Perhaps the kidnapper was toying with her, wanting her to squirm a little. Whatever the case, she couldn't just sit there and wait all day. She needed to do something.

Before turning off her phone and placing it back in its sleeve, on a whim she switched over to her contacts list. Amongst Rhapsody, Mandible, Luster Dawn, and Mango Career, there were the emergency numbers Rhapsody had added for her. Her eyes fixated on one in particular: "Police."

Once more, she looked over her shoulder. As emotionally-charged as her words may have been, she still meant what she said to Limbo. She hated to say it after everything Limbo has done for her, but right now, she wasn't sure if she trusted her to stay focused enough to help her.

But that didn't mean there wasn't somepony else she could ask for help...

***** ***** *****

"Kidnapped?"

Samba nodded solemnly, the remainder of her tears still evident via her damp cheeks.

Night Owl gazed sympathetically across his desk at her, the silence in his office as thick as soup. He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, leaning forward slightly as if in anticipation. "The Ghost?"

Samba closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath through her nostrils. Of course he'd make the same assumption that Limbo did, but she didn't want to get upset with him. "I-I don't know. I don't think so. I mean, what reason would they have to go after a little girl?"

"Weren't you the one who suggested that they kidnapped Poe as a threat?"

"But you know I was just covering for Limbo. Besides, why threaten me? I'm not the threat here, it's Limbo, right?"

Owl crossed his hooves on his desk, looking her dead in the eye. "I know she's mentioned this to you—she's always been one to give credit where it's due—but you've been a bigger help with the case than I think you realize."

Limbo had told her that, but Samba hadn't decided if she actually believed that yet. Every contribution she'd made was something that Limbo or the cops would have managed themselves eventually, she was sure. But that was neither here nor there.

"Look, I don't know if it was the Ghost or not," Samba reiterated. "The important part is that my daughter is missing."

"Do you have any leads at all?"

"Oh, right." Samba pulled out her phone and showed the text she'd received to Owl. "I think this might be from her kidnapper, but I don't know who they are."

Owl stared at the screen for a moment before tapping a button on the intercom on his desk. "Hey, Scribble, can you come in here for a minute?"

Samba could swear she heard a long groan of annoyance from outside Owl's office, followed by the loud scraping of chair legs on the floor. A mare entered the office, looking a tad disgruntled as she chewed a wad of gum. Samba had seen this mare before the first time she visited the station with Limbo, and she was one of only three people that she'd seen upon entering today, along with Hole Punch at the front desk and Owl himself. Everycreature else must have been busy investigating the Ghost—or slacking off if a certain pair of twins were any indication.

"What?" Scribble grumbled upon entering.

"Can you trace the text on Samba's phone?" he requested.

With a quick eye roll and a groan, Scribble snatched the phone from Samba and started expertly sliding her hoof around the screen so fast that Samba couldn't even tell what she was doing, opening menus that she'd never even knew were in the phone. Scribble idly perused the contents of the spellphone, blowing a large, pink bubble with her gum, popping it, and sucking the candy off her muzzle to continue chewing. She then haphazardly tossed the phone back to Samba, who fumbled to catch it to hopefully avoid any further damage.

"Yeah, no dice," Scribble stated concisely.

Samba's ears drooped, feeling as though Pirouette was slipping further away. "Nothing? Are you sure?"

"Positive. Did everything I could. The sender must've hacked their phone. Pretty common practice for some groups out there so they can't be tracked down. Drug dealers, bootleggers, call centers. You know, the real scum of Equestria."

"All that is to say it makes our jobs more difficult," Owl added.

"Am I done here, or what?" Scribble asked impatiently.

Owl flicked his hoof with a sigh. "Yeah, yeah, get back to work."

Scribble meandered her way back out of the office.

"Sorry, but them's the breaks, Samba," Owl told her sympathetically. "If we can't track the number, there's not much we can do right now."

Samba leaned on the desk desperately. "But what if we just wait until they send the instructions? That might give us something to work with."

Owl offered a stern, yet apologetic look. "Listen, Samba, I understand you're in a rough spot here, but we simply don't have the horsepower right now to help."

Samba stared back at him, thoroughly vexed by the statement. "What?"

"All of my people—including Scribble—are currently tied up with the Ghost case. And I'm neck deep in trying to get search warrants for every employee of Mango Inc.," he told her, gesturing to all the paperwork strewn about on his desk.

"A little girl's life is on the line!" Samba blurted out in frustration. "How can you just turn a blind eye like that?!"

"A lot of people's lives are on the line. We don't get to pick and choose who lives and who dies. We just do our jobs."

Samba's pupils narrowed, feeling an incensed anger that she'd never experienced before welling up in her. "How can you say that?! Didn't you tell me yourself that you regret how you've treated your job and other people as an officer in the past?!"

"This isn't a matter of 'won't,' Samba, it's a matter of 'can't,'" he stated firmly. "We don't have the hooves or resources right now. And what about Limbo? Can't you ask her to help you? Why isn't she with you anyway?"

"Because she can't stay focused on anything other than the Ghost for more than five minutes!" Samba shouted, her frustration rising as she thought about it again. She narrowed her eyes vindictively. "I guess you guys are more similar than I thought, and not in a good way."

Owl could see the look in her eyes. He'd seen that look before in the eye of a certain detective, and it concerned him.

Samba stood up from the desk, shoving her chair back nearly to the wall. She glared judgmentally at Night Owl. "But Limbo was right about one thing: there are no good cops in this city." With that, she stormed out in a huff.

Owl stood quickly, reaching out to her. "Samba, wait! Don't do anything reckless!" However, his warning was blocked out by the slamming of his office door.

In her flurry of frustration, anger, and deep worry for her daughter's well being, Samba stomped out of the police station with purpose in her step. However, she didn't make it far before she once more found herself losing steam, eventually slowing to a listless shuffle down the street.

She had no idea where she was even going. Owl wouldn't help her, she didn't want Limbo's help, but she had nothing else to go off of. If she even had one clue, she'd at least feel a little more confident in doing... well, anything.

At that moment, her spellphone buzzed once again. A spark of hopefulness lit up in Samba's eyes as she desperately fumbled to pull it out and check, actually hoping that it was from Pirouette's kidnapper. Sure enough, she saw the telltale "Unknown Name" with the message and wasted no time reading it.

Come to work tonight.

Samba quirked a quizzical eyebrow. This must be the instructions they mentioned. But by "work," were they referring to her job at The Brewery? That seemed like an odd request. But the phrasing of the message was also of note. Requesting that she "come" to work as opposed to "go" to work seemed to imply that the sender might be waiting there for her.

Samba looked back over her shoulder toward the police station. If she had an inkling that the kidnapper might show themselves at the pub, perhaps letting Owl know was a good idea. Then again, just like Limbo, he'd already made it abundantly clear where his priorities lay. It was looking like she was going this one alone, but it wasn't like the kidnapper could do anything in a building full of people. She just needed to find out what they wanted.

She put her phone away and starting heading for home. She wasn't expecting to have to do so today, but she needed to get dolled up for work tonight.

***** ***** *****

It wasn't unlike any other night at the pub. Loud and drunken patrons were yammering on about how much their job sucks, or how much the world sucks, or how much they suck. It was the same as every other night. All the staff there were used to it at this point and chose to more or less tune it out. Even Tap, who prided himself on his social skills, didn't really absorb anything that the weary drunkards confided in him about. He just nodded along as he wiped down the bar or cleaned mugs, offering vague and general advice that the inebriated customers probably wouldn't remember in the morning anyway.

And there was always one weekend a month where it was especially dull for the bartender. Working the graveyard shift meant they were short-staffed as it was, but whenever Samba took a weekend off to spend time with her daughter, it left Tap wanting to repeatedly bang his head on the counter just so he wasn't bored out of his wits. He couldn't even text his husband because he was already in bed by the time Tap went to work.

So it certainly came as a surprise to him when he saw the door open and in walked Samba herself, decked out in perhaps more makeup than he'd ever seen on her face. She trotted with an oddly hurried gait towards her dressing room in the back, but Tap wasn't about to let her just show up unexpectedly without explanation.

"Um, excuse me, miss," he beckoned.

Samba stopped as she was passing the bar, meeting Tap's playful, yet quizzical grin.

"What, you're just gonna come in on your day off and not say a word? Didn't know you could be so rude," he accused with mock hurt.

Samba walked up to the bar, brushing her wavy, well-groomed mane aside with a sigh. "Sorry, I'm a little distracted, that's all."

Tap arched an eyebrow. "So distracted that you came into work during your weekend with your daughter? You didn't leave her home alone, did you?"

"No, no, she... Rhapsody picked her up early," she lied.

Tap furrowed his brow. "Well, that's a little unfair, don't you think? You get one weekend a month with her and that jerk comes around and cuts it short? I've never met the guy, but, honey, I'm starting to feel like you could've done better than him."

Samba frowned, feeling a little bad that she had to color Tap's opinion of Rhapsody. But she couldn't really tell him the truth. He'd just worry and try to talk her out of this. "Look, it's... complicated, alright? Don't worry about it."

She was about to start heading off again to prepare for her set, but once again Tap reached out to her, looking concerned.

"You feeling alright? I've never seen you this eager to get to work. Also, no offense, but did you just mix your cosmetics in a bucket and dunk your head in? I'd almost think you were on your way to the circus if I didn't know you."

Samba touched her face, finding a large smear of blush and eyeliner on her hoof. "Oh. Uh, maybe I was a bit hasty in applying it. I can fix that before I go on stage."

"Probably a good idea. I don't want you slipping and falling on a puddle of rainbow goop once you start working up a sweat. Hair looks good, though," he complimented.

Samba gave a halfhearted smile. "Thanks."

With the pleasantries out of the way, Samba could focus on the task at hoof. In the brief amount of time she had on her way backstage to her dressing room, she performed a quick scan of the pub. A cursory glance wasn't really enough to learn anything, though, but she did spot some regulars hanging out and enjoying some drinks. She'd need to take a more thorough look around to determine if any of them were the shady types she was looking for, perhaps when she starting serving drinks after her first set.

Samba took a few minutes to fix her makeup. One would think that she would also need this time to take a breather and put herself in the right headspace; after all, how was she supposed to concentrate on her performance with Pirouette on her mind? But it wasn't like Samba ever really put her all into her dancing to begin with. Ever since the divorce, she just never found herself able to enjoy dancing the way she used to. At this point, she did it because she was good at it, and that was it. It was just a job to her now. With that in mind, it really didn't take any time for her to mentally prepare herself. This performance wouldn't be any different than any of the others.

With her makeup in order, Samba switched on the stage lights and stepped out in front of her audience. As usual, she was met with hoots and whistles from the intoxicated spectators as her exotic music began to play and she began to move with the rhythm. All eyes were on her as she swayed and moved enticingly, hypnotically, like a beguiling siren mesmerizing her impaired audience, but with dance as opposed to song.

But despite what she had told herself, this performance was different. Normally, Samba would just ignore the unrestrained hollering and catcalling from the drunken stallions, tuning them out and pretending as though she were alone on that stage performing for nopony. But tonight, her attention was divided. Her dance had all but become second nature to her now, her body practically operating on muscle memory and moving on its own. Meanwhile, her eyes were actually trained on her audience. Whenever she moved in a way that allowed her to face forward, she would quickly scan the crowd, eyeing up each individual person watching her. No doubt she was giving some of them the wrong idea, or perhaps they were too drunk to even notice, but Samba's brain wouldn't let her wait until the set was over to look for her target.

And that's when it happened.

As every stallion in front of her was acting rowdy and loud, it stood to reason that the one person who wasn't would stand out. Off in the corner of the pub, sitting in a booth all by himself without even a drink, was a stallion wearing a hoodie. It wasn't his face that grabbed her attention per se, but his eyes. He was quiet, sitting still in his seat, and just staring at her. Even in this darkness and from this distance, Samba recognized that piercing, unnerving gaze, and the image of the first time she'd met him face to face flashed in her mind—the same night she'd met Limbo. That gaze had been burned into her memory.

Samba nearly stumbled as she danced, caught off guard by the stallion's presence. She managed to catch herself, though, turning the misstep into an impromptu move that actually seemed to impress her onlookers. Now she was unable to stop looking in his direction, their eyes meeting each time her dance turned her in his direction. A thought occurred to her suddenly: could her stalker and Pirouette's kidnapper be one and the same? It made sense, all things considered. The Ghost didn't have a reason to kidnap her daughter, but this guy certainly did. Now she knew what she needed to do. To save Pirouette, she needed to confront him once and for all.

Samba barely waited for the song to end before hurrying off stage, not even giving the audience time to praise her with more raucous howling and whistling. She didn't even wait to catch her breath, just taking a moment to towel off the sweat and briefly touch up her makeup before putting on her uniform in preparation to start serving drinks.

She began making the rounds, taking drink orders and delivering them to her satisfied customers. She only barely had the wherewithal to force her usual painted smile, but didn't linger at the tables to engage in idle pleasantries. She spent the whole time casting quick glances toward the stallion sitting in the corner booth, and every time she did, he was always staring back at her with that same unsettling gaze. Now that she was thinking about it, she did remember seeing this guy on many a night since she started working there, but didn't pay him much mind. She couldn't remember ever serving him a drink, though, but he would apparently sometimes leave generous tips along with the notes containing his phone number.

But tonight was the one night where she chose not to ignore him. After serving the last table of patrons their drinks, Samba returned to the bar with purpose. "One more, Tap. For the guy in the corner."

Tap glanced off at the lonely stallion, who was staring back, but not at him. "I didn't see you take his order."

"Just pour up the damn drink," she demanded with a furrowed brow.

"Okay, miss snippy, geez," Tap relented as he poured up one more mug of beer. "I'd appreciate it if you'd hang your attitude up at the door." He placed the frothy mug upon the tray and watched as Samba took it across the room.

For the first time since that fateful night, Samba was face to face with her stalker. She knew for certain now that it was him; there was no mistaking that look in his eyes, and it gave her chills. Still, she had a mission that she was determined to see through.

Just as an attempt to placate her curious coworker at the bar, Samba plastered on a smile for the hooded stallion. "Here's your drink."

For once, he took his eyes off of the dancer to look at the mug. "I didn't order anything," he said plainly.

"It's on the house."

He stared at her again. Despite the smile on her face, there was a certain intensity in her eyes, and her tone was uncharacteristically threatening. But the stallion said nothing as Samba continued to stand there even after serving him.

Eventually, Samba's patience reached its limit, and her forced grin vanished. "Where is she?" she finally asked, keeping her voice hushed.

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, observing the mixture of anger, worry, and desperation in her expression. "She's not hurt, if that's what you're wondering."

And that clinched it. He did kidnap Pirouette.

It was all Samba could do to not deck the guy right here and now, but she didn't want to run the risk of endangering her daughter. It was probably safer to just go along with his demands for now. "What do you want?"

Instead of answering, he removed a scrap of paper from the pocket of his hoodie with his magic, placing it on the table.

Samba eyed it suspiciously. This felt familiar. She took the paper and unfolded it. She was expecting to find his phone number in there like with all the other notes he'd left her. However, it was instead an address: "459 Trotter's Avenue." She didn't recognize the address, but she was pretty sure that it was somewhere downtown.

"Meet me there when you finish work," the stallion instructed. "And this goes without saying, but come alone."

Samba stared at him, expecting him to elaborate, but he didn't. She had some questions she wanted to ask before she ended up doing whatever it was he wanted from her. "Are you a changeling?" she asked discreetly.

He quietly considered the question before answering, "No."

"Are you the Ghost?" she followed up.

For once, his unyielding stare actually shifted slightly, his eyebrow cocking quizzically. "I... don't know what that means. Just meet me at the address."

Samba waited for more, but he said nothing else. His silence infuriated her, but she had no choice but to just do as she was told, as much as she hated it. She had so much she wanted to say to him—or rather, at him—but for Pirouette's sake, she opted to not rock the boat and return to her work.

His response to her last two questions was puzzling, however. If "Mandible" had been the one who kidnapped Pirouette, then logically they'd have to be either a changeling themselves, or the Ghost using the Spellmet. He sounded genuinely confused when asked about the Ghost, so she assumed he may have simply been lying about being a changeling. Whatever the case, she'd hopefully get her answers soon enough, she just had to have patience.

***** ***** *****

Closing time couldn't come soon enough. The moment Samba was done with her final set on the stage, she got herself cleaned up, washing off all her makeup. She had a hard time deciding if it would be more beneficial to be dolled up when meeting the guy. He was her stalker, so making herself look more enticing might make this exchange a little smoother. Then again, the idea of having to break out the feminine wiles for that dirtbag made her want to vomit more than holding Limbo's severed head ever did.

Samba didn't even wait for the remaining customers to clear out before making for the door.

"Uh, Samba, don't you want your tips?" Tap called out to her as she hurried past the bar.

"Keep 'em," was all she said, not even looking over her shoulder at him.

Tap just watched her disappear out the door. He would have questioned her odd behavior tonight, but who was he to turn down extra cash?

Samba trotted at a brisk pace down the sidewalk in the dead silence of the night, having a rough idea of where she was going. While she'd been preparing for her second set, she entered the address her stalker had given her into a G.P.S. app on her phone to locate the meeting place. He hadn't sent her any other messages since then either, and she noticed that he had apparently left before her second set, no doubt getting ready for their meeting.

She shuddered to think what it was he wanted from her. Given that he'd clearly been obsessing over her pretty much since she started working at The Brewery, whatever he had in mind couldn't have been anything sanitary. Samba had a feeling that, even if she managed to bring Pirouette home in one piece, she probably won't be able to do the same for her dignity, not that she had much of that left in the first place.

Samba slowed her roll at an intersection further downtown. She pulled out her spellphone to doublecheck the route to her destination. She needed to make a left to get to Trotter's Avenue. She placed her phone back in its sleeve and got back on track.

"So, just gonna go in there by yourself, huh?"

Samba halted in her tracks. She was caught a little off guard by the voice penetrating the otherwise quiet night air, but couldn't help but groan in slight aggravation when she recognized it. She turned around, spotting Limbo trotting up behind her with a cup from an all-night coffee shop.

"What are you doing here?" Samba hissed, still a little bitter after their altercation that day. "And don't say you were just out for a stroll."

"I was tailing you," Limbo stated frankly.

Samba knit her brow. "'Tailing me'? Why?"

"Hello? I'm a detective. It's kinda my job."

"I thought you're job was chasing the Ghost," Samba quipped bitingly.

Limbo sighed remorsefully. "Alright, I deserve that. But, listen, I want to talk to you."

"Well, I don't have time," Samba told her dismissively as she turned to continue on her way. "I have more important things to do."

Limbo hurried up alongside her, walking with her, much to Samba's chagrin. "So, I've been thinking..." she started, an apologetic frown upon her face. "You were right, I'll openly admit that."

Samba cast her a sidelong glance, listening with a minute amount of interest. She'd heard similar before, but was curious as to what she planned to say this time.

"You're not the first person to accuse me of having tunnel vision. Owl used to get on my case about that too. So I can see how you could interpret my insistence on helping you save Pira as an empty promise. I've been trailing you all day, hunkering down in a familiar alleyway while you were working, so I've seen how determined you are about this."

"Because we're talking about my daughter here," Samba stated resolutely.

"Exactly. That's part of what I wanted to talk to you about." She held out a hoof to stop Samba, looking her straight in the eye with utmost seriousness. "How many times have you told me that you're a bad mom? That, if it was between you and Pira, you wouldn't know what you'd do? And yet, here you are, stomping off with purpose to save her life with no regard for your own."

Samba blinked. That hadn't occurred to her until now. She had not only decided to find Pirouette by herself, but even stared down her stalker without fear despite the trauma he had previously caused her. And now she was going to meet him, having not given it a second thought knowing that her daughter's life was on the line.

Limbo prodded Samba firmly in the chest. "You are not the mare you keep telling me you are—that you keep telling yourself you are. Personally—and you can disagree with me on this—I blame Rhapsody. He's the one who put those thoughts in your head, and you refuse to argue with him on it because you still love him and depended on him so much."

Samba opened her mouth to speak, but found her gob plugged when Limbo stuck her hoof in it to stymy her incoming disagreement.

"Don't even. You're gonna continue to claim that you're useless, but I'm gonna tell you that you aren't. If you'll allow me to bring up the Ghost again, I wanna just say that we wouldn't be where we are in the investigation without you. We've made more progress in the last three weeks than I have in the past three years, and that's because of you."

Limbo removed her hoof from Samba's mouth, the dancer spitting a little in response to having to taste a zombie's partially-rotten flesh. Samba's ears flattened down in response to Limbo's insistence. "Come on, you're just saying that. You would have gotten to this point eventually without me. It's not like I'm the reason they kidnapped Sizzle Conifer or stole the Spellmet at the expo."

"Maybe, but this ain't a sci-fi movie. We ain't talking about some alternate timeline crap. I'm talking about the here and now. The fact of the matter is, you contributed something meaningful, whether you're willing to admit that or not." Limbo suddenly looked much more apologetic. "Which is why it's time I returned the favor. The Ghost can wait a little longer. I'm coming with you to save Pira. Then, I'm gonna track down your stalker and put him behind bars like I promised."

"Actually, Pira's kidnapper is my stalker."

"Oh. Well, talk about convenient. Two bird's with one stone, then. Although, I guess this means she wouldn't've gotten kidnapped in the first place if I had even tried to find him earlier. Geez, that means this is my fault on two different levels, huh? Sorry..."

Even if Limbo was right about that, Samba couldn't help but smile. "Look, you're not entirely to blame. You can insist that I'm actually a good mom all you want, but I'm absolutely not perfect, not even close. Although, you did kinda make me realize what it is I'm actually about to do, and now I'm suddenly pretty nervous about this," she said, her legs feeling a little shaky all of a sudden.

"All the more reason for me to go with you," Limbo claimed adamantly. "I am not gonna let that sleazeball touch a hair on your head."

Samba scratched her head uncertainly. "Well, the problem is he told me to come alone. If you come with me, we might just be putting Pira in more danger."

Limbo hummed in thought. "I'm sure we can find an angle to work from. I'll try to think of something on the way there," she said as the two of them started back down the street towards the meeting place.

"Limbo."

The detective turned to Samba, who had a remorseful frown on her face.

"Sorry for lashing out at you earlier. I was in a pretty volatile state at the time."

Limbo flicked a hoof dismissively. "Don't sweat it. I think my stubborn, zombified brain needed to hear it anyway."

Samba grinned gratefully. "I also want to say thanks."

Limbo tilted her head, puzzled. "For what?"

"For everything. Honestly, all that stuff you said about me probably wouldn't be the case if it weren't for you. It might sound cheesy, but you've been an inspiration to me. That's why I wanted to help you catch the Ghost in the first place."

Limbo shrugged in an attempt to appear aloof, but Samba could tell she was being bashful, even with the lack of a blush in her cheeks. "Well, don't thank me yet. Let's get Pira home safe and sound first, yeah?"

Samba nodded in agreement, their pace quickening slightly. On the way, Samba told Limbo about her meeting with the kidnapper.

"Trotter's Avenue, huh? That's just a warehouse district. Nothing there but storage buildings. Guess he wanted to meet somewhere where there won't be anypony around at this time of night."

It didn't take much longer for them to get to Trotter's Avenue, and as Limbo said, the streets were lined with large lots surrounding countless enormous warehouses. What was in them was anypony's guess, not that Samba and Limbo cared. There was only one building here that they were interested in, and the two of them kept their eyes on the numbered gates until they found the one displaying "459." Well, it displayed "59" anyway, in rusted, metal numbers, but the "4" was laying on the ground beneath the gate.

This particular warehouse looked to be abandoned. As evidenced by the number, the gate was in a state of disrepair, some of the metal bars being bent and rusted. It appeared as though the gate was once locked, but the chains that had been holding it shut were broken. And given how rusted the chains also were, it was safe to say that they weren't broken recently; probably by some hoodlums or teenagers looking for an out-of-the-way spot to hang out. Whatever the case, the gate was open for them. The lot inside looked more like a junkyard, with random scrap and garbage scattered around, and even some rundown-looking freight carriages that appeared to have not been used in some years if the lack of wheels were any indication.

The warehouse itself loomed over them, also looking in rather a sorry state. Some of the metal siding had been torn off the walls, and several of the windows up near the perimeter of the roof were broken, no doubt by the aforementioned teenagers tossing rocks at them for some kicks.

"You think this is safe?" Samba asked worriedly.

"Pfft, no," Limbo scoffed as though that should have been obvious. "Hostage situations are pretty nerve-wracking. I've been involved with one or two during my time on the force, and part of me is glad I'm not a negotiator. I can have a tendency to rub people the wrong way sometimes. Speaking of which, it's probably not a good idea for me to waltz in there with you if he asked you to come alone."

"So what are you going to do? Now that I'm here, I'm starting to realize how dumb it would've been to come here alone, but how are you supposed to help if you can't come in with me?"

Limbo cast her a reassuring, cocksure grin. "I sincerely hope you didn't think it was just the two of us."

With that statement, Webber crawled out from underneath Limbo's eyepatch—a sight that Samba was a little ashamed to say she'd gotten used to at this point.

"I brought along our infiltration specialist. We'll keep a low profile out here and try to find a more discreet way in. A rundown place like this has gotta have a few holes I can squeeze through."

"What should I do once I'm in there?" Samba asked, a little concerned for her own safety.

"I doubt he's gonna give over Pira right away until you meet whatever demands he makes of you, and my past experience with going after stalker types tells me that those demands are not gonna be pleasant. My advice would be to try and stall the guy as long as you can until I can sneak in."

"How do I do that?"

"The hay should I know? He's your stalker. I'm sure you can say or do something to keep him occupied until I can get the jump on him. In the movies, that would be the part where the villain monologues excessively, giving the hero time to think of something or for backup to arrive."

"This isn't a movie, Limbo," Samba deadpanned. "And this guy didn't seem very talkative."

Limbo rolled her eye with a groan. "Whaddaya want from me? Just get in there and do something, okay?"

With that, Limbo started to poke around the area, eyeing up the warehouse for an alternate entrance. Samba was left to stare at the large delivery shutter at the front of the building. It seemed to be locked tight, but there was a personnel entrance just beside it, so she figured that was the most obvious place to start.

Samba cautiously turned the handle and the rusty door creaked open slowly. She wasn't sure why she was being so careful about it. The kidnapper was expecting her, so it wasn't like he was going to be surprised. Maybe she just subconsciously assumed their might be some sort of trap rigged to the door. But when nothing happened, she poked her head inside to take a look around.

The inside of the building didn't look much better than the outside, not that Samba could see much of it in the darkness. The little light there was was coming in through the skylights in the ceiling, the glow of the moon offering some help with her vision. The place was mostly empty, devoid of anything useful to anycreature; just some scrap and busted-up furniture that somepony couldn't be bothered to drag to the dump. The only fixtures of any interest were the catwalks overhead, but that wasn't really of any importance to Samba.

What was important was the figure standing in the middle of the warehouse. Samba felt a mixture of worry and anger coming over her again—worry for both Pirouette and herself. It was definitely her stalker standing there, clad in the same dark hoodie she'd seen him wearing earlier, and even on the night he tried to assault her, like he didn't own anything else. His eyes were locked onto Samba as she entered, his unnerving gaze somehow more visible to her than anything else in this darkness.

However, there was still something missing from this picture...

Samba steeled herself and walked inside, shutting the door behind her. She cautiously approached the stallion, but still kept some distance in case he tried to pull a fast one. "Okay, I came just like you asked. Now, where's my daughter?" she demanded.

"Not here," he stated plainly.

Samba felt her temple throb, her bile rising at this response. She grit her teeth at him furiously. "I thought we were supposed to make an exchange," she reminded him, doing her best to try and keep her voice level and avoid shouting.

"I have some demands to make."

"I'm not doing anything until you tell me where she is!"

"She's safe. Is that good enough for you?"

Samba scowled contemptuously. "All I'm asking is that you prove to me that she's okay. I want to see her."

"I... can't do that right now," he answered, looking a little flustered himself.

"Why not?"

He composed himself, attempting to look stern once more. "I don't have to answer your questions. She's safe, but that doesn't mean she's not in danger."

Samba cocked an eyebrow. "The hay does that mean?"

"It's a threat. And you're not in a position to assume it's an empty one."

Samba had no idea what he was trying to insinuate, but he had a point, unfortunately. She couldn't and shouldn't do anything that might endanger her daughter at this point. The safest play was to just go along with this until Limbo could find a way to help.

She let out a reluctant sigh. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to this, but she had no choice but to ask. "What do you want from me?" she asked in a defeated voice.

He didn't answer right away, but through the darkness, Samba could have sworn she saw his face glowing red. "A private dance."

Samba's mouth hung open, bewildered by the oddly simple request. "Huh? That's it? Just a dance?"

"I've been..." He looked away, embarrassed apparently. "...enamored with you since I first laid eyes on you at that bar. You're the most beautiful mare I've ever seen, and the way you dance is so graceful and alluring."

Samba grumbled quietly to herself. There was no way she was going to be flattered by a comment like that from a creep like this. That's not exactly the impression she got from the stares he kept giving her. She preferred the shallow catcalling from the drunks over this guy's pathetic attempt at being endearing. If he thought that little confession was going to make this whole scenario look romantic, he had another thing coming, especially if he thought that kidnapping her daughter would make things better.

She was ready to tear this freak a new one for what he's done to her. However, it occurred to her that she might be able to take advantage of this. His stoic attitude had suddenly faltered, a deep crimson blush filling his cheeks. If his feelings for her were true—as misguided as they were—then that meant that Samba may have had more control here than she realized. If she played her cards right, she might be able to handle this without Limbo's help.

As disgusting as the notion was, Samba made the decision to play along. "Really?" she said, feigning her bashfulness and understanding. She took a few steps closer to him, doing her best to appear compassionate. She was starting to wish she'd left her makeup on to pull this tug of war further in her direction. "If you had just told me that in the first place, then we might not need to be in this situation."

The stallion rubbed his neck awkwardly. "I-I'm... not good at talking to pretty mares."

"Wouldn't've guessed..." Samba muttered under her breath. She cast him a sultry look, turning her stomach in the process. "But, there's no reason we can't right this wrong, is there? All you want is a dance, right? Then you'll let my daughter go?"

He hesitated, unable to make eye contact with her.

It seemed Samba needed to really butter this guy up in order to wrap him around her hoof. She collected all the willpower she had, and slid up directly in front of him, batting her eyelashes seductively. "You'll let her go, right? I'll even make this dance... extra special."

She watched as his blue-grey coat turned beet red, and he swallowed anxiously.

Samba was both proud and ashamed of herself at the same time, but she just needed to remember that she was doing this for Pirouette's sake.

But before she could say anything else, Samba noticed something. Now that she was within extremely close proximity to the guy, she could see something underneath his hood. He was wearing something on his head that hadn't been there when they met earlier. Samba's eyes went wide—something the stallion might have noticed if he hadn't been too flustered and awkward to make direct eye contact. A pair of bands were fitted snuggly over his horn, and the rest of the accessory appeared to be made of plastic and metal.

Was that a Spellmet?

She couldn't believe it. It was. It looked a little different from the one that was stolen from the Magi-Tech Expo, but it was similar enough to be recognizable. There was no way—no way that this creepy and misguided loser was actually the Ghost. But that at least answered the question of how he had disguised himself as Mandible. He must've lied about not knowing what the Ghost was.

This was definitely an unexpected revelation. What was worse was the idea of seeing the smarmy look on Limbo's face when she found out she was right from the start. If Samba hadn't already felt like a real jerk for the way she'd acted earlier, she certainly did now.

But this could be a good thing. Maybe if she played her cards right, she could save Pirouette and his other victims. So, it was time to really turn on the charm.

Samba backed away slightly, but maintained her forced, alluring smile. "So, should we get started then?"

He just nodded, perhaps a little more enthusiastically than he'd intended given the red glow in his face.

And so, after taking a brief moment to swallow her dignity, Samba began her private show for this scumbag. She moved with all the grace and fluidity she always did when she danced on stage, but this was the first time she'd ever given a private performance for anypony other than Rhapsody. Even if the extra cash would've been nice, she'd never been tempted to offer private dances before; she wasn't sure she trusted a bunch of slovenly, inebriated stallions to keep their hooves to themselves, let alone this guy.

Still, she soldiered on, making her performance as enticing as possible. At this moment, Samba was channeling her inner siren, attempting to use her attractive curves to brainwash this creep into surrendering to her and forcing him to release his captives. It seemed to be going well so far. His eyes were glued to her alluring form as she danced. He may have been pretty intimidating during their previous encounters, but ultimately he was just another man, and thus susceptible to the charms of a pretty lady. She just needed to endure this humiliation until he submitted.

As she danced, Samba happened to catch a glimpse of movement above them. Discreetly glancing upward whenever she would turn in that direction, she was certain she spotted Limbo sneaking across the catwalks overhead. She must've found a staircase outside leading to the upper level of the warehouse. It looked like she wouldn't have to put up with this for much longer. She just had to make sure he kept his attention on her while Limbo devised a plan of attack.

Samba slid over to the stallion, placing herself just inches from his face, which certainly seemed to please him if the goofy grin on his face was any indication. "How are you enjoying the show so far?" she asked, though she didn't really want the answer.

"Uh... I-It's great. A-Absolutely beautiful," he stammered awkwardly.

Samba almost wanted to start laughing. He was already like putty in her hooves. She'd always hated mares that used their good looks and feminine wiles to manipulate men for personal gain, but she was starting to see why they did if it was this easy.

"Well, we're just getting started, big boy," she said, making herself want to puke. "So just sit back and—"

Suddenly, they were both distracted by a metallic clinking sound from above, followed by a quiet, "Oops."

Samba's face turned white as the stallion finally took his eyes off of her, knowing exactly what it was he was going to see. They both looked up, but Samba was able to react quickly enough to back off when she saw a monkey wrench hurtling down towards them, striking the stallion square in the forehead. He collapsed to the floor as he clutched his head with his hooves, groaning in pain.

Samba just stared, a little dumbfounded by the unexpected interruption. She looked up to see Limbo leaning over the railing.

"Uh, I meant to do that."

"Dang it, Limbo, I had this under control," Samba called up to her.

"How was I supposed to know that? All you were doing was dancing."

"Exactly! He was completely entranced! I had him right where I wanted him!"

"Well, excuse me, I had no idea you made a habit of using your butt to hypnotize people."

"Can you not put it like that?" Samba requested, feeling pretty dirty all of a sudden.

The stallion laboriously rose back to his hooves, rubbing the lump that was forming on his head. "I-I told you to come alone," he said, trying to sound upset, though he was clearly a little dizzy from the blow.

Samba suddenly became overcome with worry, afraid that he might make good on his threat since she had tricked him. "Limbo! Hurry!"

"Coming!" Limbo made a mad dash for a staircase leading down, sliding down the railing and charging toward the stallion.

"Stop right there!" he demanded, pulling back his hood to properly reveal the device on his head.

Limbo halted in her tracks, completely caught off guard by the presence of the Spellmet. "Holy crap! Is that the...? Are you...?"

"I've got a bunch of dangerous spells at my disposal," he threatened. "If you two so much as take another step, I'll teleport straight to where the girl is and... and I'll kill her."

Samba looked pleadingly at Limbo. The detective reluctantly backed off, as difficult as that was for her given who it was standing before her, but it was for Pirouette's safety.

"Alright, let's all just chill out for a sec here, yeah?" Limbo urged the stallion. "We can still negotiate something here."

"I-I made my instructions clear," he repeated. He was clearly attempting to sound threatening, but there was a distinct note of uncertainty in his shaky voice as his eyes darted back and forth between Samba and Limbo.

Samba took a step forward in desperation. "Please, I just want my daughter back. I... I can still give you what you want," she surrendered, on the verge of tears for fear of Pirouette's fate.

"D-Don't move," he warned them, taking a step back himself.

Limbo could tell he was struggling to figure out what exactly he was going to do in this situation. It seemed odd to her that somepony as thorough as the Ghost wouldn't have planned for this scenario.

The stallion bit his lip nervously before finally making a decision. "Screw it. I'm out of here."

Samba watched as his horn lit up, the Spellmet's lights glowing along with it. Panic came over her when she realized he was about to teleport away without telling them where Pirouette was. "Wait!"

But instead of vanishing, the kidnapper's horn simply fizzled out, the lights on the Spellmet flickering weakly, and no spell went off. He glanced up at his horn with a puzzled expression. "Huh? Wh-What happened? It was working fine earlier."

Limbo wasted no time capitalizing on this opportunity, rushing the guy down. A fearful look upon his face now that his one weapon wasn't functioning, the stallion attempted to flee on hoof, but only managed to get a few feet before Limbo tackled him and pinned him to the ground. He tried casting some more spells in his desperation, but once again, his horn only flickered like a worn down sparkler, the Spellmet's lights glowing dimly and erratically.

Without any way to fight back, he resorted to the coward's defense. "I'm sorry! Please, don't hurt me! I-I don't want to go to jail!" he begged pathetically.

"Little late for that, pal. I would've arrested you even if you hadn't kidnapped Pira."

"Wh-What if I tell you where she is? Will you let me go?" he pleaded.

"You're not in a position to negotiate anymore, dude."

"Limbo."

The detective glanced back at Samba.

"Just... I want Pira back. Please."

"This guy's your stalker, and you want to let him go?!" Limbo balked.

"If it means getting her back, yes," Samba answered resolutely.

Limbo grumbled disagreeably. "Alright, tell us first, and I promise I'll let you go."

"Y-You're lying," he stammered doubtfully.

"Look, either way, we're gonna get the info out of you eventually. You can tell us at the precinct, or you can tell us now. Pick your poison. I could also break your leg. That's an option as well." She punctuated the threat by pulling back on his right front leg.

"A-Alright, alright, I'll tell you!" he conceded. "Th-there's a white, single-story building around the corner, big window on the front. She's in there. Probably in the basement or something."

Limbo cocked an eyebrow. "'Probably'?"

"Well, that's where he told me to drop her off."

Limbo and Samba exchanged surprised looks. The detective leaned down aggressively. "Who's 'he'?! You got an accomplice?!"

"H-He's—"

Before he could get another word out, the Spellmet suddenly starting flashing wildly. Magical and electrical sparks began to spew from the device and the stallion grunted in pain and started to convulse. Limbo got off him, stepping away from the potentially dangerous situation. She and Samba could only stand there in confusion and shock as a violent surge of magic burst around the kidnapper's horn. Following that, the sparking stopped, and his convulsing ceased, leaving only a smoky trail rising from the device and a burning smell in the air.

Again, the two mares just stared in bewilderment at the stallion's now motionless form.

"Wha...? What the hay just happened?" Samba uttered.

Limbo cautiously approached him, leaning down to examine his face. The stallion's eyes were rolled back into his head, and he'd stopped breathing. "Uh... He's dead."

"Dead? Just like that?"

"Looks like it." Limbo scratched her head, feeling a little underwhelmed by this conclusion. "Well, he won't be stalking you anymore, so that's one mission accomplished on my part at least."

"But what exactly happened there?" Samba pondered curiously.

"Looked like the thing malfunctioned or something. I told Career these things looked dangerous."

"Maybe you broke it when you dropped that wrench on him."

Limbo grimaced, disgruntled by the accusation. "Oh, yeah, sure, blame it on me. Real classy."

Samba grimaced at the corpse laying on the floor. "I don't know how I feel about how many dead bodies I've seen in the last couple of weeks. But at least we know where Pira is. We need to go find her," she insisted.

"Hang on."

Samba watched as Limbo turned the corpse over onto his back and reached into the pocket of his hoodie. "What, you're looting corpses now? Not exactly an honorable detective, are you?"

"Shut up, I'm looking for clues—ow!" Limbo retracted her hoof, holding the blade of a knife.

"What was he doing with a knife?" Samba questioned. She gulped nervously. "H-He wasn't planning to kill me, was he?"

"It would seem that way. Guess he wasn't that attached to you after all," Limbo said, tossing the knife aside and allowing her minor cut to heal itself before reaching back into his pocket. "Hmm, what do we have here?" She removed a spellphone from the hoodie, looking it over.

Samba's eyes widened. "Hey, that's Mandi's phone!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, I recognize it from the stickers on the case."

Limbo turned it over to find a bunch of super girly-looking stickers of flowers and sparkles plastered all over it. She grimaced at the sight. "Guess there's no accounting for taste with that girl, huh?"

"Let me see that."

Limbo passed her the phone.

Samba turned it on, immediately quirking an eyebrow. "Wait, I think this was on the whole time."

"How do you know that?"

"It says a call ended just a minute ago that lasted half an hour."

Limbo's interest piqued with that information. "Who was he calling?"

"Says 'Unknown Name.' The other person's phone must be hacked too."

Limbo abruptly snatched the phone back. "But we know now that he had an accomplice, right? His partner must've been listening in the whole time. And given that this guy had one of those devices, it's probably safe to assume that he's another one of the Ghost's scapegoats."

Samba's mind was suddenly overcome with worry. "Th-Then Pira might still be in danger! We have to go find her!"

"Yeah, but there might be something in this phone that can still help us."

No sooner had she said that did smoke begin to seep out of the spellphone's case. Recalling what happened to the stalker, Limbo dropped it on the ground immediately, and an audible, electric pop inside the phone caused the screen to crack and go dark.

Limbo and Samba exchanged looks, the detective lifting her hooves defensively. "Okay, that was not my fault. I didn't touch a thing." She stared back down at the phone, a curious thought coming to her. "Hang on a second. Didn't Leaf tell us earlier that Mandible's phone was already broken? He said somepony stepped on it and crushed it. So, what was it doing here, in this guy's pocket, perfectly functional? You know, until now."

Samba pondered that question for only a moment before shaking her head. "We can think about that later. Right now, I just want to find Pira."

Limbo nodded fervently, not wanting to return to their old argument. "Right, right, sorry! Let's hurry!"

The pair hurried out of the warehouse, making a beeline for the building that the now deceased kidnapper claimed Pirouette was being held inside. As long as he wasn't lying, the place should be close by. Samba and Limbo rounded the corner they had originally come from, getting off of Trotter's Avenue and eyeing up the buildings on the next street. It didn't take long to find the building in question, as it was just a little ways from the corner and easily identifiable from the description the kidnapper had given them.

Samba approached the large window out front, trying to peer inside. However, the closest streetlight had apparently blown its bulb and nopony had been sent out to fix it yet, so it was too dark for Samba to see inside, even by the light of her spellphone. So, obviously the next course of action was to try the door. She jiggled the handle, but it appeared to be locked.

Samba gulped worriedly. "Um, he didn't happen to have a key on him, did he?"

Limbo shook her head. "Only the knife and phone. Didn't find anything else in his pocket."

Samba sighed as an idea came to her, though she wasn't confident it would work. She lowered her head, pointing her horn at the handle. Limbo watched as her horn began to glow a pale pink, clearly attempting to use her magic to pick the lock. This was only the second time Limbo had ever seen Samba even try to use her magic since she met her, a testament to just how desperate she was to save Pirouette.

Unfortunately, Samba's horn fizzled out, leaving the mare panting lightly. She let out a disappointed and ashamed breath through her nostrils. "Well, it was worth a try..."

Limbo looked over the building, particularly at the big window. "I guess if we can't open the door, then we'll just have to make our own way in. Stand back."

Limbo started to take a few steps back, and Samba had an idea of what she was planning to do, so she backed away from the building herself. Limbo charged forward, leaping headfirst at the window. But instead of the expected sound of shattering glass, came a hollow thud and a low crunch as Limbo's face firmly bashed itself against the window and the mare dropped to the ground.

"Oooow..." Limbo groaned nasally as the necromancy spell worked to fix her broken muzzle. She stood up with a disgruntled grimace. "Shatterproof. Figures. Who the hay can afford shatterproof windows in this part of town?"

"What are we supposed to do now?" Samba asked, on the verge of panic once again. "Pirouette's in there somewhere, potentially with the Ghost! We have to find a way in!"

"Relax, okay, I'm thinking." Limbo looked over the building once more. Her eyes turned up to the roof. From street level, she could see the edge of a vent on the roof. "Alright, I have an idea. Follow me."

Samba followed Limbo into an alleyway to the left of the building, out of sight from anypony who might happen to be out for a late night stroll. "What's the plan?" she asked impatiently.

"Okay, first of all—and I'm gonna need you to follow me on this one—I want you to rip my head off."

Samba blanched at the request. "What? Why?"

"Just trust me, alright?"

"How am I even supposed to do that?"

"My flesh isn't in pristine condition, as I'm sure you've seen. You just gotta pull real hard. Here, I'll even make it easy for you." Limbo placed her hooves on her head, then twisted her head violently with the sickening crack of her vertebrae.

Samba winced in disgust. It was a rather disturbing sight to see her head limply leaning to one side while she just smiled nonchalantly, like something out of a horror movie.

"Alright, now, yank my head off quick before it fixes itself. I don't want to have to break my own neck more times than I have to. I might be dead, but it still hurts like the dickens."

Samba shuddered, but she didn't really have time to question her. She grabbed Limbo's head, closed her eyes, and pulled as hard as she could. She heard the gross sound of separating flesh and sinew, followed by the snap of her spinal cord as her head was freed from her body. Samba opened her eyes again, looking down at the severed head in her hooves.

"This brings back memories, huh?" Limbo chuckled.

"Forgive me if I'm not in a reminiscing mood," Samba said, trying to fight her gag reflex. "So, what do I do now?"

"I want you to toss my head up onto the roof."

Samba arched an eyebrow in confusion. "Why? What are you gonna be able to do as a head?"

"Didn't I tell you to trust me? Once you get me up there, you're gonna be praising my brilliance," Limbo boasted with a cocksure grin.

Samba rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say." She looked up to the roof, and with an underhoofed throw, hurled Limbo's head up.

The severed head bonked off the wall a couple of feet short and fell back down, landing in a nearby dumpster. Samba leaned over the edge of the dumpster with an apologetic look.

"I'm guessing you weren't on your high school's buckball team," Limbo deadpanned.

"In my defense, unicorn's usually handle the baskets. Pegasi and earth ponies are the ones who throw the balls," Samba corrected.

"Whatever, who cares? Now, get me outta here and try again. With a little more oomph this time please."

Samba pulled Limbo's head out of the dumpster. She briefly glanced at Limbo's headless body, which was just standing there, tapping her hoof impatiently. "Why can't you just throw your own head? You're probably stronger than me."

"Because it'd be a little hard to line up the throw considering I'd be throwing the thing I need to line it up. Even if I had depth perception, that'd be a tough shot to make. Come on, you can do it. You almost made that shot."

Samba groaned, her own patience reaching its limit. Not wanting to waste anymore time, she held Limbo's head with both hooves, stood on her hind legs, and chucked Limbo as hard as she could with a strained grunt.

Limbo's head barely clipped the lip of the roof, but managed to tumble and roll into position. "Nice throw," she complimented.

"What do you see up there?" Samba called out.

"Well, there's a roof access door, so that's good. In retrospect, it was probably haphazard to do this without knowing if I'd be able to retrieve my head, but whatever, it worked out. Now, to execute my ingenious plan. Webber, you're up, buddy."

Webber crawled out of her eye socket, awaiting further instructions.

"Alright, super spy, I'm gonna need you to crawl into that vent there and go unlock the front door, got it?"

The spider immediately scurried off and slipped into the vent.

Samba held a hoof to the bridge of her nose with a sigh. "Wait, so, your whole plan was to have Webber unlock the door?"

"Yeah, pretty smart, right?" Limbo bragged, patting herself on the back—figuratively, of course.

"Then why'd I have to throw your head up there? He's a spider. He can climb walls."

Limbo blinked, groaning in annoyance. "Well, where was your hindsight a couple of minutes ago?"

"You were the one who was being all secretive about it. Besides, if we had thought of it then, it wouldn't be hindsight, it'd just be an idea."

"Alright, I get it! Glory to Technicles, God of Corrections, sheesh! You wanna just go wait for Webber to unlock the door?" Limbo griped in frustration.

Samba just shook her head, guiding Limbo's blind body back to the front of the building. After waiting a few minutes, she heard the click of the door's lock. She hesitated for a moment, slowly opening the door and poking her head in. It wasn't like she'd see anything through the darkness even if there were somepony waiting to ambush her. The only thing visible within her short line of sight was Webber as he skittered outside and crawled up onto Limbo's back.

"Let me see if I can find the door to the roof," Samba called up to Limbo's head.

"Don't bother with that, I can manage with Webber's help. You should go find Pira as soon as you can to make sure she's safe."

Samba gulped apprehensively. "But... what about that guy's accomplice? He might be—"

"Hey, listen to me. I'd tell you to look me in the eye, but, well... Anyway, you got this, okay? You need to give yourself more credit. Just go, I'll catch up in a minute."

Samba wasn't quite as confident as Limbo seemed to be, but she was incredibly worried about Pirouette. She decided not to question Limbo and just find her daughter, so she hurried into the building, using her phone to light the way.

Pirouette's kidnapper presumed that she was being kept in the basement, so Samba looked around for a door. The only thing she could see in the immediate area were some long tables, but after shining the light around, she spotted a couple of doors, one wooden and one metal. If she had to venture a guess, the metal one probably went up to the roof, so she briefly pointed it out to Webber and the spider tapped Limbo's back with his legs to direct her sightless body toward it. Samba headed for the wooden door, where she found what appeared to be a kitchen, but she didn't pay it much mind since there was another door nearby. She opened that one to find a staircase leading down into the unsettling darkness; that was about as basement-like as she could hope for.

Cautiously, she descended the stairs, feeling a fearful pit in her stomach. The darkness combined with the creaking of the wooden steps under her hooves made her feel like she was in a horror movie. She half expected her phone's battery to run out at this moment, leaving her trapped in the pitch blackness. A quick glance at her phone showed that she was just being paranoid, as it was still at seventy percent power, and she made it to the bottom without anything spooky happening. Now she just needed to navigate this creepy basement.

Samba froze suddenly when she heard what sounded like hoofsteps behind her, but when she spun around to shine a light toward the stairs, she saw nothing. She gulped nervously, her legs quivering. She both wished that Limbo were with her, but also a little glad she wasn't; she'd probably just call her a big baby.

But that thought did remind her that she had somepony else to worry about more than herself. She needed to stop being paranoid and find Pirouette.

Meanwhile, back upstairs, Limbo's body felt its way around like a blind mare, and Webber was her seeing eye dog. Once Samba had left to start her search for Pirouette, the spider directed Limbo toward the roof access door, though she started growing a little aggravated around the third time she struck her leg on one of the tables. She eventually found the door, feeling around beyond it for the staircase. She managed her way up the winding stairway until she found another door and pushed it open. The cool, night air grazed her fur, but even without that she knew she was on the roof because she could see her own body stepping outside from her head's lopsided vantage point.

"There we go," she said to herself as she picked up her head and let the necromancy spell sew it back onto her neck. She let Webber crawl onto her hoof, giving him an accusatory glare. "Admit it, you made me run into those tables on purpose, didn't you?"

He reacted by scuttling in place, the little dance a sign of his amusement. If he could laugh, Limbo knew she'd be listening to his incessant tittering right about now.

"Just get in there, you dingus," she ordered him, lifting her eyepatch for him to crawl back into her skull. "Now, then, gotta hurry and catch up to Samba."

Limbo hurried back downstairs, but the moment she made it back down to the previous room, she felt something violently strike her in the side of the head with a metallic clang, the forceful impact once again separating her head from her shoulders and sending it rolling across the room.

Limbo's ears were ringing, and her vision blurred, the discombobulating blow causing her to become incredibly dizzy and disoriented. Her brain could barely form a complete thought as she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, her headless body unable to remain standing and collapsing limply to the floor. With what little awareness she still possessed, she could see the fuzzy form of a pony walking toward her in the darkness, brandishing what she could only assume was a frying pan.

"I'm getting a distinct feeling of déjà vu here. How about you, Limbo?" came the voice of the pony.

Limbo could swear she recognized that voice, but her brain was too addled at the moment to properly match it with a face. She felt her consciousness slipping, her eye beginning to drift shut. The last thing she could discern before she passed out, as her attacker bent down to pick up her head, was a white mane with a red stripe.

Comments

[Eight_Metal]

After that cliffhanger in the last chapter I was dreading reading the next one. I put it off as long as possible, not wanting to have to experience the fall out of Pira being kidnapped. But my curiosity got the better of me, and now Limbo is in a sticky situation. Darn you Dee and your aptitude with god tier cliffhangers!

Keep it up