Daring Do: Shadows Over Equestria

by PonyJosiah13

Whispers in the Whitetail Woods Part Seven: Odd Jobs at the Queensport Docks

A lone light shone from the lonely tower posted atop the craggy island, slowly panning its way across the still waters of Horseshoe Bay. Above, the waxing crescent and the stars shone dispassionately upon the jumbled maze of streets of cracked stone and gambrel-roofed houses trapped between the water and the high, rolling hills with fog clinging to their bases. Ships of every shape and size and description, from speedboats to fishing trawlers to tugboats and cargo ships, bobbed up and down along the docks; farther beyond, larger ships lay anchored offshore, their docking lights flickering as faint as candles in the night. Clouds began to roll in from the sea, blotting out the sun.

Cold Case brought her vehicle to a halt as she crested a hill overlooking the town of Queensport. She climbed out of her vehicle, placing her pipe back in her mouth as she contemplated the town where their target was waiting.

“Why are we stopping, ma’am?” Tealove asked from the passenger seat as the second car pulled up next to them. Prowl leaned out of the window, frowning in confusion.

“What’s wrong, ma’am?” she asked as Bumblebee and Flash leaned out of their windows.

“I’m just contemplating,” Cold Case stated, looking down over the coastal town. “And waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Flash asked.

Cold Case turned around and shone a beam of arctic blue light from her horn, piercing the night like a spotlight and illuminating a motorcycle several yards behind them. The two riders flinched in surprise, raising their hooves to shield their faces.

“For Detective Finder and Professor Do to catch up,” Cold Case stated dryly.

Phillip let out an amused noise in his throat as he and Daring dismounted the bike and walked it up to the impromptu meeting. “Shouldn’t have bothered sneaking up on you, Cold,” Phillip admitted.

“And I shouldn’t have bothered telling you to stay away,” Cold Case snorted in exasperation. “You’re planning on making her a partner?”

“She has an interest in this,” Phillip stated plainly.

Cold sighed. “So now I have two pains in my ass.”

“Aw, honey, I’m flattered, but you’re not my type,” Daring smiled broadly. “Bit too cold for my taste.”

Flash snickered loudly, though his laughter quickly turned to frightened coughs when an icy blue eye turned its gaze upon him.

“I’m sure you’ve been thinking hard about this since the hospital,” Cold Case stated. “I’m sure that you concluded that the best place to start would be homeless shelters or boarding homes.”

“Most likely,” Phillip replied.

“You’ve been to Queensport a couple of times before,” Cold stated. “Anything come to mind?”

“Would start at Saint Galewing’s, near the docks,” Phillip said. “Cheap. Out of the way. Quiet. I know the mare who runs the place, she keeps her ear to the ground ‘round here.”

“Then let’s not waste time,” Cold Case declared. “Finder, lead the way.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Phillip said in an ironic tone, climbing back onto his motorcycle and switching the headlight on as the agents returned to their cars. Daring swung herself onto the back of the bike, gently hugging him around the middle as he headed down the road into the waiting village.

Daring glanced behind her at Cold Case’s car, meeting the cyclopean gaze of the supervisory agent for a moment with a smirk.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” she asked Phillip.

“Shut up,” Phillip groused, his ears turning red as Daring cackled.

Phillip led the convoy through the twisting streets, the spinning blue lights of the RBI vehicles illuminating the dark houses that sat clustered alongside the streets, as though huddling together for safety. So confounding was the maze that Phil stopped twice to think about where to go next and actually led the group around a block when he took a wrong turn.

“Hate these streets,” Phillip grumbled as he rounded a cottage that had been converted into a maritime shop. “Can’t understand how the locals navigate it.”

“I’d guess the streets evolved naturally as the shipping industry increased,” Daring replied. “Note that the architectural style transitions from the nineteenth to the eighteenth century as we get closer to the docks. More people moved into Queensport and expanded outwards from the coast.” She craned her neck up to study the shadows of the bobbing boats anchored to the docks, great warehouses standing ready to receive their cargo. “I should read up on this place, learn more about its history–”

“There it is,” Phillip declared, nodding to a converted warehouse that sat off by itself a short uphill jaunt from the docks. The white paint was peeling off the walls, but the light over the front door held a steady, comforting yellow glow that was naturally attractive in the darkness.

“‘Saint Galewing’s Shelter,’” Daring Do read aloud as Phillip parked the bike and cut the engine. “So how do you know this place?”

“Did a pro bono case for the shelter couple years ago,” Phillip explained as the two RBI cars pulled up. “Someone was molesting some of the creatures who were staying here. Vics were too ashamed or scared to talk about it.” His jaw tightened for a moment. “Found the bastard, turned him over to police. Steamed Carrot, the mare who helps run this place, has been a friend ever since.”

“Finder, with me,” Cold Case announced as she exited her car.

“Wait here,” Phillip told Daring as he followed Cold into the shelter.

What had once been a wide-open space where boxes of fish had been stored was now converted into a living space, with bunk beds lined up along the hardwood floor decorated with a motley assortment of carpets and rugs. Tables and chairs were scattered about, some with books or old, battered board games and decks of cards set atop them. The lights were dimmed so that the shapes huddled on the cots beneath the needlework blankets; a few tables were illuminated so that the homeless creatures beneath could continue to peruse their books or quietly enjoy a late-night game of checkers. A few heads turned to greet the visitors as they entered with curious gazes.

A hippogriff wearing the rosary of the Church of Aris approached them, the medallion shaped like the crest of Mount Aris bouncing against her sea-green chest. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Where’s Steamed?” Phillip asked.

The hippogriff smiled. “Where she usually is, Detective,” she answered, gesturing towards the back of the room.

“Of course,” Phillip smiled as he and Cold passed by a shrine to Saint Galewing, patron saint of lost and shipwrecked sailors. A small statue of the vivid purple seapony sat in the center of the alcove, holding a pearl to symbolize the sea goddess Thalassa and a golden feather to represent the sky god Ziz.

A mouthwatering aroma filled their nostrils as they entered a small but well-stocked kitchen, replete with secondhoof but well-tended utensils and equipment. A plump blue pegasus mare with curly reddish-orange hair and the cutie mark of a bowl of vegetables was standing at a stove, quietly singing a Prench love song to herself as she stirred a bubbling pot of stew, from which the tempting aroma was emanating.

“Phil!” the mare chirped as they entered, her eyes lighting up with joy.

“Steamed,” Phillip greeted her with a smile. “We need–ulp!”

He was interrupted by Steamed thrusting a large spoonful of the stew into his mouth. “Ratatouille. What do you think?” she asked.

Phillip swallowed and licked his lips. “Bloody delicious,” he nodded.

Steamed squeed in delight. “Thank you! I wasn’t sure about it, but–”

“You two can catch up over dinner later,” Cold Case interrupted, flashing her badge. “Supervisory Special Agent Cold Case. We’re looking for somepony.”

Phillip pulled out the photograph of Joseph Knoll and passed it to Steamed. She barely glanced at it before nodding.

“Oh, yes, that’s Zeke,” she nodded. “He dragged himself in here late yesterday night…well, closer to this morning, actually. Said he needed a place to stay for a bit while he tried to find a ship that could take him to Canterlot. He slept all morning, had lunch, then headed out.”

She glanced out into the sleeping area, keen eyes checking each of the bunks. “Hmm…I don’t see him,” she said. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Thalassa’s eyes. Is he–?”

“Not a bad guy,” Phillip reassured her. “Which bunk was his?”

“That one,” Steamed said, pointing to an empty bunk near the side. “Hmm, looks like he took his bag with him.”

“But he left behind something,” Cold commented, striding forward and snatching a cloth cap lying on the pillow. “Is this his cap?”

“Yes,” Steamed nodded.

“Perfect,” Cold said, taking a set of tweezers out of her pocket and plucking a dyed red hair from the cap. She placed it in an envelope and pocketed it. “You’ve been a big help. Thank you.”

“Have you seen a blue unicorn with a bowler hat around recently?” Phillip asked.

Steamed thought for a moment. “Nothing comes to mind. Sorry.”

“It’s apples, Steamed,” Phillip answered, though a frown creased his face. “Might want to lock the doors and windows tonight. Could be trouble.”

“Okay,” Steamed nodded, eyes wide. “Be careful, Phil. Now that I think about it, there’s been an unusual amount of yelling from the docks earlier.”

“I will be,” Phillip nodded as he and Cold exited.

“Joseph isn’t here,” Cold announced as they exited. “But I got a hair. Tealove, Bumblebee, tracking spell.”

“Yes, ma’am!” the changeling and unicorn declared as Cold Case pulled a small coil of copper from her pocket. She unfurled it into a circle and laid it on the ground as the other two gathered close. She then extracted the envelope with the hair and placed the hair inside the copper circle.

She, Tealove, and Bumblebee drew pocketknives and gently pricked their hooves, then placed them on the circle. There was a snap of power that Daring felt in her wings as the magical circle closed, trapping their magical energies within along with the hair.

“Quearite. Sequor. Indago,” the three chanted in unison, their horns alight with frosty blue, pale green, and vivid yellow light. The same colors swirled around the hair, attaching themselves to the minuscule clue. “Quearite. Sequor. Indago…”

The light dimmed out as they chanted. Cold stepped on the copper circle, breaking the magic circle with another snap that Daring felt, along with a strange wooshing like a warm wind through her feathers.

The three agents all turned, their horns shining with a steady pulse as they faced the waterfront. “He’s at the docks,” Bumblebee reported. “And he’s close.” He sniffed the air. “I can smell him…boss, he’s freaked out about something. We better move.”

“Bumblebee, Prowl, go! We’ll follow on hoof!” Cold Case ordered.

With a buzzing of wings, Bumblebee took to the sky, with Prowl taking off after him.

Phillip hustled over to his motorcycle and dug around in the saddlebags for a moment before pulling out his bullroarer. “What do you need that for?” Daring asked.

“Might need it,” Phillip replied, coiling it around his waist. He drew his .38 revolver and secured it to his foreleg. Daring drew her own firearm and tightened the straps, then checked to make sure that her stockwhip was in place and ready to reach. She and the others all took out flashlights and secured them to their shoulders, snapping them on to penetrate the darkness.

As the group trotted down the cobblestone roads down the slopes to the water, clouds began to form across the skies, blurring the stars and the moon. A chill wind rose from the water and rain began to fall from the sky, a gentle but chilly curtain.

“Bloody terrific,” Tealove grumbled, forming a makeshift shield over her head with her magic.

“Hold it,” Phillip said, turning his attention to a car that was parked on the side of the road, a golden four-door car. “Rental,” he muttered as he walked around the car, then tested the door and found it unlocked. He took out a magnifying glass and peered around the driver’s seat.

“Blue hairs,” he said, then turned his attention to some brown stains on the interior of the car door. He pressed his nose to the stains, sniffing intently, then flicked his tongue out to taste. “Sirius’ Red Delicious,” he added with a scowl, ignoring the bemused stares that everypony except Cold was giving him.

“The pony with the derby is here,” he announced. “The one that was looking for Joseph.”

“Pick up the pace, ponies!” Cold Case ordered, her horn leading her around the corner. They hurried down the water-streaked wooden planks of the docks, following Cold and Tealove’s horns. Mere feet away, darkened boats bobbed up and down in the water with a chorus of groaning and creaking; beyond, dinghies rang out their dulled warnings.

The trail led further along the docks to the piers where larger boats delivered their cargo into the waiting hooves and talons of stevedores and stored in the waiting warehouses. A few ships were tied to the piers, their rusty hulls looming over the agents like the darkened peaks of mountains; lights from the warehouses illuminated the doorways of the warehouses that hung open like waiting mouths.

As Daring hurried alongside the group, a cold sensation spread across the back of her mind. She slowed, looking around. Listen to your gut, Daring, Uncle Ad whispered in her ear.

It was late in the evening, but dockworkers didn’t hold normal hours. Judging by the open doorway of the nearby warehouse and the carts of crates that were parked on the pier, there had been workers in the midst of unloading a nearby ship; a cargo net loaded with crates hung partially out of the cargo door, swaying back and forth slightly as the ship bobbed up and down.

The message that her subconscious was trying to tell her suddenly cut through Daring’s mind: Where is everybody?

Then Daring’s eyes went to a dropped, broken crate next to an overturned cart next to the ship, lemons spilling out of the broken crate. And there was a puddle of dark red on the planks.

Phillip slowed down, his eyes narrowing as the gears turned behind his forehead. He bent down to examine the puddle, dipping his hoof in it and sniffing it.

“Is that…?” Daring asked, already knowing the answer.

“Blood,” Phillip hissed. He turned and traced a streak that led to the edge of the water. “And drag marks.”

“And over here,” Flash said, looking at the ground. “Looks like…burn marks. Like someone dripped acid or something here.”

The other agents had slowed, sensing the danger, swiveling their heads to check every shadow. “Prowl, Bumblebee, check in,” Cold Case spoke into her radio.

“Chief, we’ve got a wounded pony here,” Prowl replied. “He’s been beaten badly and is barely conscious: looks like he managed to crawl under some boards to hide.”

“Guy’s covered in scratches and burns. He’s mumbling about the…the tongues,” Bumblebee reported.

“Tongues?” Flash repeated, cocking his head.

Movement between one of the warehouses. Flash swiveled around, bringing his weapon up. “You there! Halt!”

His flashlight illuminated a figure in a gray raincoat, the hood pulled up. A black, unmarked baseball cap concealed the face. The cloaked pony turned towards Flash, wincing from the light and raising a hoof. They murmured indistinctly, their tone one of fear and pain, flinching away from the gun.

“Who are you?” Flash called out. There was only another mumble in reply; the pony in the coat and cap shook his head. A splotch of red on his chest shone in Flash’s flashlight, vivid against the gray of his coat.

“Are you hurt?” Flash asked, lowering his gun a bit and stepping forward.

“Sentry, careful,” Cold Case ordered, keeping her gun on the figure.

But Flash proceeded forward, his gun now pointing down on the ground. “Hey, easy, buddy, we’re not gonna hurt you–”

“Flash!” Phillip yelled, lunging forward.

His shout of warning was mixed with a horrid screeching, like a hundred metal nails being dragged across a chalkboard; the pain drilled into the ponies’ ears, forcing them to flinch away, covering their ears.

The pony in the raincoat had raised his head–no, its head, for its skin was an unnatural off-white, like ancient bones. It was shrieking at them with a mouth that took up the entirety of its face, a twisted black hole lined with needle-like teeth, with a hairy, coarse bifurcated tongue twisting its way out of the orifice. Yellowish liquid dripped from the tongue, acrid smoke rising from the puddle that it formed.

More figures emerged from the darkness around them, attracted by the screech, adding their own cries to the howl. All of them were identical figures in gray raincoats and black caps, cries raising from their enormous mouths. They raised their forelegs; bone-like claws extended from their deformed hooves.

“What the hell are those?!” Daring shouted over the ringing in her ears.

The beasts lunged at the agents, blurring with unnatural speed, ichor flying from their tongues.

“Hostile! Open fire!” Cold bellowed.

Gunshots cracked across the docks, bullets striking the things as they streaked toward the ponies like a swarm of rats descending upon a carcass. The heads of the first abominations in line burst like water balloons filled with white paint and they stumbled, their bodies rapidly decaying into a thick, pus-like material, but the ones behind them merely leaped over their comrades and continued charging.

One reached Flash and struck him across the face with a claw, sending blood flying from his face. Flash yelped, then yelped as the thing tackled him to the ground, claws wrapping around his neck. “Get off! Get off! Help!” he screamed, futilely struggling beneath the song as the tongue dangled down over his head.

“GET OFF HIM!” Daring and Phillip shouted as one, their shouts mixing with a whistling noise and a sharp crack. The thing reeled back with a screech of pain as Daring’s stockwhip cracked across its face, cleaving its tongue in half; a moment later, Phillip’s boomerang struck its forelegs, forcing it to release Flash.

Flash wriggled out from the thing enough to raise his gun and emptied the rest of his .44 magazine into the monster’s head. The headless body flopped across Flash’s body, rotting away into slime that clung to Flash’s body.

Cold’s horn lit up blue and ice coated the ground in front of her, causing the last two monsters to skid clumsily, shrieking in confusion as they stumbled and fell. A round each from her and Tealove dispatched the two monsters, silencing their screams. The echoes of their gunshots died away, leaving behind a deathly quiet that hung over the pus-covered docks. The beam from the lighthouse panned overhead, casting brief shadows over the docks.

Phillip hurried over to Flash and helped him up. “You okay, jackaroo?” he asked, checking the bleeding wound on his face.

“Y-y-yeah,” Flash shuddered, cringing as he tried to shake the stinking, pus-like liquid off him. “What the hell were those things?”

“Constructs,” Cold Case replied as Bumblebee and Prowl flew over to them, sweeping the area with their pistols.

“I was right,” Phillip scowled. “Oddjob is here.”

“Who’s Oddjob?” Daring asked.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself to the lady,” an upper-class Gritish accent spoke.

Everyone turned around, their flashlights illuminating two figures standing in an alley. One was another of the faceless constructs. The other one was a blue unicorn wearing a gray derby and matching waistcoat. He smiled at the agents with twinkling green eyes, his gray mustache twitching in amusement. His cutie mark was a marionette control.

“Good evening,” the unicorn said with a mocking bow. “Oddjob, mercenary criminal at your–”

He was interrupted by a beam of vivid blue magic that sliced through the air like a blizzard wind. “Hey!” Oddjob protested as the beam struck him in the chest, ice proceeding to spread across his body until everything from the neck down was encased.

He scowled at Cold Case…then his face began to twist and melt like putty, deforming and reshaping into another construct. The thing flicked its forked tongue out at them irritably.

The other construct bubbled and twisted, reforming into a duplicate of the unicorn. “How rude,” he scoffed, dusting off his waistcoat.

Cold Case scowled. “I suppose that would be too easy,” she grumbled.

“I didn’t make it to the third-highest on the RBI’s Most Wanted list by making idiotic mistakes, agent,” Oddjob’s copy stated.

Phillip snorted disdainfully, drawing a brief glare from the unicorn.

“I see you upgraded your friends,” Bumblebee nodded at the frozen clone.

“You like them?” Oddjob smiled, patting the hatted head of his comrade. “You’ll notice the lack of eyes to blind or ears to deafen. Took me a while to get used to the new design, but I’ve found it works even better than before.”

A gunshot echoed through the air and the clone’s head was torn open by a .38 round, quickly dissolving into slime that dribbled down the ice.

“Not impressed,” Daring Do scowled, smoke rising from the barrel of her revolver.

“What do you want?” Prowl snarled.

“What I want is to do my job and be allowed to leave in peace so I can get my pay,” Oddjob stated. “So I’m asking you to be reasonable.”

“‘Reasonable?’ After you murdered innocent ponies?” Prowl spat.

Oddjob shrugged. “All I wanted was for my boys to bring the boy and his trinket to me, but those churlish boors had to get in the way.” The duplicate sighed, its body squirming and writhing again, blue and gray blending together into off-white. “I’m going to find the boy. And if you want to get in the way, what happens next is on you.”

As the transformation completed, the construct leaned its head back and spat at the agents. A huge globe of acid spun through the air at them.

It didn’t even make it halfway to them before it impacted against Tealove’s shield. A second round from Daring’s revolver finished off the construct just as the rain began to fall in earnest.

The three unicorns’ horns dimmed. “Bugger! Lost the tracking spell!” Tealove gasped.

“Same,” Bumblebee reported. “The rain is interfering with the spell.”

Cold Case growled, glaring at her dulled horn. “He was nearby! Sentry, with me!” Prowl, you take Tealove that way! Bumblebee, keep the civilians here!”

“Uh…” Bumblebee stammered. “Chief?”

Cold Case turned around in time to spot a greyscale tail leap onto the roof of a warehouse and race off. She facehoofed with a growl. “Go after them!”

“Okay, chief!” Bumblebee said, taking flight. “Hey, come back here! Wait for me!”

Phillip paused at the end of the warehouse to study the shadow-shrouded streets beneath, where warehouses and storerooms stood alongside taverns, restaurants, and licensed brothels. The dark, rain-coated streets appeared empty.

“The gunshots should’ve summoned the police,” Daring commented, looking over the alleys as Bumblebee landed next to them.

“Queensport has four full-time officers and three of them will be in bed at this time,” Phillip said, squinting through the rain. “They’re not gonna be here in time.”

“Maybe Joseph got on a boat and took off?” Bumblebee suggested.

“Oddjob would have his friends guarding the boats,” Phillip countered, hopping down to street level. “Running water disrupts most magic; if Joseph got on a boat, he wouldn’t have been able to follow him.”

“So he had to have chased him away from the bay,” Daring concluded. “So if we can find his buddies, we’ll find Joseph.”

Phillip leaned close to the ground, studying the tracks that were being washed out in the rain. “Lots of hooves went this way,” he said. “C’mon.” He took off at a rapid trot, with Daring right on his tail and Bumblebee overhead. They proceeded down the alleyway, the only sound water pattering against the rooftops and the puddles splashing beneath their hooves. Their flashlights passed through the darkness, searching for any sign of movement.

“Trails keep going this way,” Phillip said, pausing to examine a path of dry ground beneath an extended eave, pointing towards a fishing supply house with a cottage over the store.

“Hang on,” Bumblebee said, pausing in midair. He sniffed the air a few times. “I smell a lot of fear from that direction.” He pointed at a larger warehouse nearby.

“Hey, there’s a window open,” Daring said, turning her flashlight up the wall of the warehouse, following a stack of crates that led up to the open passage. She approached, looking closer. “Yeah, look at that. The window was pried open.”

She climbed up the crates and stuck her head through the window. “Looks clear,” she reported, sliding through the window.

“Daring!” Bumblebee protested. “We should wait for–hey! Phil, where are you going?!” he protested as Phillip hopped up and sidled through the window. “Ugh, dammit,” Bumblebee grumbled, pulling out his radio. “This is Bumblebee, we–”

His radio hissed and crackled loudly. “Hello? Hello?” he asked.

Another angry burst of static and then the radio went dead. “Shit,” Bumblebee cursed and flew through the window.

He clambered into a dark, cavernous space, lit only by their flashlights and the moon and streetlight filtering through the skylights and scum-smeared windows. Crates and bags were stacked everywhere, many of them stamped with the label of a sunset behind a field of spice crops. The air was heavy with the cloying odor of a potpourri of spices. Sliding wooden doors stood at either end of the warehouse.

“Radio’s out,” Bumblebee reported to Phil and Daring as they stalked through the dark warehouse, keeping their flashlights low to avoid attention. “I’m supposed to be able to hear the others from the next county if I need to.”

“Possibly a scrambler spell,” Phillip stated. “Oddjob may be a one-trick pony, but he knows his layout.”

“Joseph?” Daring called out, loud as she dared as she panned over the crates of paprika, flour, salt, garlic powder, cilantro, and other spices. “Joseph, it’s okay, we’re friends. We want to help.”

She passed over a crate marked Salt, then paused and turned back. She studied the lid of the large box, noting the missing nails in the chewed corners and the salt clinging to the brim. Then she glanced into a nearby corner and saw several white bags hastily shoved behind a tarp, all of them proudly bearing the labels of table salt.

“Joseph?” Daring called, stepping forward and prying open the lid.

With a shriek of utmost terror, a young donkey burst from the crate like a jack-in-the-box, salt tumbling from his pale blonde mane. Blue eyes alight with panic, he swung a rusty crowbar at Daring.

Daring Do ducked and backed up, raising her hooves. “Easy, easy! We’re not going to hurt you!”

Joseph Knoll stared at her in panic, blinking in their lights. He was shaking violently, constantly licking his dry lips; his eyes were bleary and carried heavy bags beneath them, as though he had not slept properly since fleeing his parents’ home. His coat and mane were greasy and spiky, his body covered with salt and other spices from his bid to hide. The hoof that wasn’t clutching the crowbar was hugging a lumpy bag to his chest.

Bumblebee used his magic to pull his RBI badge and identification from his vest and held it out to Joseph. “Agent Bumblebee from the RBI. These two are with me. It’s okay, Joseph, you’re okay now…”

The skylight suddenly shattered. Everypony looked up to see five constructs leaping down from above, hissing and baring their tongues as they landed. Rain and cold wind began to blow into the warehouse through their entry.

“No! No!” Joseph shrieked, falling out of the crate in terror. His makeshift weapon clattered out of reach as he desperately crawled away. Daring, Phillip, and Bumblebee stepped up to block Joseph from his abductors, raising their weapons.

One twisted and melted, reforming into Oddjob. “Ah, there you are,” the copy smirked at the whimpering donkey. “Odd…could’ve sworn I checked this warehouse already. My thanks to the agents for leading me to you.”

Phillip gritted his teeth and let out a frustrated exhalation.

“Now, why don’t you make it easier on yourself and give me that statue in your bag?” Oddjob’s duplicate asked Joseph, extending a hoof expectantly.

Joseph looked down at the bag as if considering it, then shook his head. “Do you have any idea what they’re doing with this?!” he asked the construct.

Oddjob shrugged indifferently. “I’m not in the habit of asking questions that I don’t want to know the answer to. Just give me the bag and this will all be over.”

“No! I’m not giving it to you!” Joseph cried, hugging the bag to his chest with both hooves. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen! You don’t know what it means if–”

“Oh, do shut up,” Oddjob sighed as his duplicate reformed back into its monstrous normal form. With a single, deafening howl that slammed into the ponies like a solid wall, they lunged. Thumping on the roof announced the approach of more constructs, leaping down through the shattered skylight. Daring and Bumblebee both opened fire, dropping any constructs that came close, but their comrades just leaped over their rotting flesh and continued the charge. Joseph wailed in despair and terror and fled to the back of the warehouse, desperately slamming himself against the locked door in a futile bid to break free.

“Buy me some time!” Phillip called, loosening the bullroarer from around his waist.

“You’ve got maybe ten seconds!” Daring shouted as her revolver clicked on empty. She seized the whip from her waist and snapped it out in a single motion, the cord hissing and cracking as it coiled around the post of a set of metal shelves.

Bumblebee’s body flared with green flames for a moment. In his place suddenly stood a vivid yellow minotaur. “Hurry, Phil!” he roared as he started swinging his mighty fists at the constructs, sending any who dared get close flying back as he ducked and weaved around the acid that his foes launched at him.

Daring dug her hooves in and grunted as she pulled. The shelving creaked in protest, then groaned as it toppled over. With a great cacophony, the boxes and bags that had been set atop the shelving crashed atop some of the approaching constructs. “Ha!” Daring grinned, recoiling her whip.

Her grin faded as the constructs pinned beneath the shelves began to rise from beneath it, pushing the metal debris off them with only a modicum of effort; the others behind them just ran around or vaulted over the obstacle.

Phillip took a slow, focused breath and his hooves glowed with a pale gray light, the energy of his magic sliding down the rope to the instrument. He began to spin it about, producing a growling, thrumming hum that rumbled through the air; the gray glow flew from the instrument like cast-off water, dissipating after a yard. Even if the spell wasn’t aimed at her, Daring felt the energy hit her with a crackling of energy, her wings buzzing as though she were standing too close to an electric fence.

“Alpeyel!” Phillip ordered, glaring at the surrounding constructs. “Alpeyel!”

The constructs shuddered, hissing in anger as they backed up, like wild animals retreating from a flame.

“Come on!” Daring urged, pulling Joseph away from the door. She and Bumblebee, now shifted back to his normal form, hastily reloaded their guns as they headed towards the open window that they had first entered through. Phillip followed them back, continuing to spin his bullroarer. The constructs still surrounded them, hissing as acid dripped from their tongues.

“Alpeyel!” Phillip shouted louder. Daring noticed that his hind legs were shaking. “Alpeyel! Alpeyel!”

He turned and Daring saw the look on his face: his teeth gritted in desperation, wide eyes staring unfocused at their surrounding pursuers.

No. Not at them. At something else, something only he could see.

“Phil! Snap out of it!” Daring ordered, trying to lift Joseph to the window.

The donkey whimpered as he strained to reach the ledge of the window, escape tantalizingly close. “I can’t reach!” he protested.

The gray glow of the spell began to flicker like an old lightbulb, the sound subtly changing to lose the authoritative rumbling. The constructs closed in, hissing hungrily.

Daring Do’s mind raced, her eyes darting around the dark warehouse. She looked at the constructs, examining the faceless mooks, shuddering at their long tongues.

A wild thought passed through her head: How do these things see without eyes or ears?

Oddjob’s voice echoed in her ears: “Took me a while to get used to the new design, but I’ve found it works even better than before.”

Her gaze panned over to Joseph Knoll, who was pressed up against the wall, gasping rapidly as if trying to take as many breaths as he could in his final moments. His mane was still white with salt.

“Odd…could’ve sworn I checked this warehouse already.”

An idea began to spark in Daring’s mind and she looked over to a large bag on the ground next to them. She turned to the constructs as they began to close in, wolves circling a lamed deer. Phillip was no longer shouting out his incantation, breathing heavily; sweat was starting to run down the back of his mane and the bullroarer’s rumbling was quieting as the spinning of the instrument began to slow.

Daring Do sucked in a breath and prayed to whoever was listening that this would work, then lunged, drawing her pocketknife and snapping the blade open. The monsters shrieked once more as her blade dug into the heavy bag, tearing it open to reveal the brown powder within.

Daring extended her uninjured wing and began to flap it frantically, generating a great wind. The cinnamon blew out of the bag, rushing at the constructs like a miniature sandstorm. The faceless monsters reeled away, coughing and hissing in pain and confusion as the heavy taste overwhelmed their senses.

“Bee! The door!” Daring shouted.

Bumblebee paused for a beat, then charged at the door. More green flames swirled around him as he transformed into a yak with bright yellow fur, the warehouse shaking with every heavy step he made. He crashed through the door, reducing it into splinters in a moment.

“Go, go, go!” Daring shouted, grabbing the bag and blowing cinnamon at the stunned constructs. Phillip seized Joseph and rushed them both out after Bumblebee, with Daring right behind them.

Headlights lit up the street, accompanied by the roaring of an engine. Everyone turned to see a car rushing at them. With a squealing of brakes and a splashing of water, the vehicle swung around and the rear doors burst open.

“Get in, get in!” Cold Case ordered from the driver’s seat as another car rushed up. Tealove and Flash Sentry leaned out of the front windows, opening fire at the monsters recovering themselves. Prowl landed on a rooftop and opened fire as well.

Phillip practically threw Joseph into the back of the car and dived in after him as Daring leaped into the passenger’s seat. Bumblebee shifted back into his changeling form and took off.

Both cars roared back down the street, pulling onto the main road. Daring looked out the window to watch the few remaining constructs try to chase after them, rapidly falling behind. As the beam of the lighthouse passed over once more, she briefly spotted the silhouette of a stallion in a derby rushing towards them from the docks.

A moment later, both of the RBI vehicles, their blue lights whirling through the darkness, sped down the winding roads of Queensport, leaving their pursuers behind in the mist.

It wasn’t until the docks were far behind them that Joseph Knoll sagged in his chair in relief, closing his tear-streaked eyes. “Thank you,” he gasped out. “Thank you.”

“Nice thinking, Daring,” a panting Phillip said.

“I figured that if they only had tongues, they relied on taste to see,” Daring grinned in relief. “Guess Oddjob’s gonna need to redesign his friends.”

“Is everyone okay?” Cold Case asked, finally slowing down as they left the docks behind.

The others all replied in the affirmative. “Joseph Knoll, you led us on a good chase,” Cold admitted. “Do you have the statue?”

Joseph unzipped the old, battered bag and revealed the contents. Daring stared at the small, expertly carved idol of the grinning Ahuizotl. In the passing light of a lone streetlamp, its eyes seemed to glimmer at her.

Cold Case sighed. “I imagine you have a long story to tell us. Finder, which way to the police department?”

Author's Note:

And we're back! Bet you thought this story was dead, right? Apologies for the long wait, I just needed time to work on it a bit. This chapter has been sitting for a while and I figured it was long past time for me to release it and revive this story.

Fans of The Dresden Files might recognize our mercenary friend. Fear not, he'll show up again later on. And we'll probably be visiting Queensport again, too! I hope you enjoyed and you're looking forward to more!