"—let this hospital stand as a testament to the triumph of hope over despair. Let all those who work here, who are cared for here, who walk through these doors know that even in the darkest, most desperate times, there is always hope, because there will always be good ponies, like the kind, hardworking doctors and nurses who work here, who are willing to dedicate themselves to benefit of others." Twilight let out a breath and looked up from her notes with a nervous grin. "Well? How was that?"

Her reply was a loud snore. Spike had fallen asleep after the fifth recital of Twilight's speech and had proven very difficult to rouse. Next to him on the sofa opposite Twilight, Flash was giving Twilight a rather flat look.

"Twilight, I still don't see why you're so worked up over this," he said, getting up off the couch. "You've been practicing this speech for hours."

"I have to!" Twilight said. "The opening of the new wing of the Ponyville Cancer Research and Treatment Center tomorrow is a very important occasion! I have make a good impression!" As she spoke, she subconsciously adjusted the rubber pink band on her left foreleg, displaying the dark purple caduceus and letters PCRTC for all to see.

Flash chuckled quietly. "Twilight, you always make a good impression," he said, using his hoof to lower her notes to the table and nuzzling her cheek. "You've practiced the speech, you've got it down. You really should relax: you won't be as good if you're all stressed out."

"Flash, I really need to practice more," Twilight protested, trying to push him off gently. Thinking quickly, Flash extended a wing and swept up Twilight's notes, tucking them against his body. "You—" Twilight sputtered in disbelief, reaching out to try and grab them. Flash flew up out of reach, tossing the cards up to his laughing mouth.

"Give them back!" Twilight flew up after him, trying to snatch the notes back, but he kept ducking and dodging, evading every attempt. Laughing out loud now, he flew out of the room and down the hallways of the castle, Twilight right on his tail. He zigzagged through the kitchen, flew underneath the dining room table, feinted towards the guest bedrooms then did a sudden U-turn to dodge right underneath Twilight and zoomed out into the entrance hall. Suddenly, a lavender haze surrounded him, slowing his momentum.

"Gotcha!" Twilight shouted triumphantly, seizing him and pulling him to the floor, where he lay on his back with Twilight on top of him, both of them panting.

"All right, Your Highness," Flash said dramatically, swooning backwards. "You have defeated me. I surrender the treasure unto you!" He handed her notes back.

Twilight laughed. "You're ridiculous."

"Only the best kind of ridiculous for you," Flash said, grinning up at her. She smiled back at him, then leaned down for a kiss. Before Flash, Twilight had never really understood the concept of kissing—what was so important about putting your lips on somepony else's mouth? But when she kissed him and felt the familiar tingling down her spine when he kissed her back, reaching up with a hoof to stroke the spot between her wings, she realized—

"Ugh! Get a room, you two!" Spike had been woken up by all the crashing that they'd been making during their play chase and come down to see what they had gotten up to.

With a sigh, Twilight broke away from the kiss, Flash's brief look of disappointment reflecting her own feelings, and got up off him. At that moment, a loud thump on the door signaled the arrival of the morning paper. Spike bustled down to retrieve it, bringing it up to Twilight.

"Thank you, Spike," Twilight said, opening up the paper to scan the headlines: perhaps there'd be something in there about the new hospital wing. As soon as she opened the paper, however, all thoughts of the Cancer Research Center were banished from her head. Screaming at her in bold letters was the headline, "GENTLEPONY THIEF BREAKS INTO BANK, BREAKS OUT OF PRISON." Right beneath that was a familiar face.

"Zugzwang!" Flash said, snatching the paper from Twilight's hooves. Ignoring her shout of protest, he began to speed read the article, which explained how Zugzwang had just walked into the Manehattan Bank yesterday, opened the vault with a simple spell, then after being taken to the local jail, opening every cell door with another spell before teleporting away, leaving dozens of convicted criminals roaming free on the streets.

Flash just stared in numb disbelief at the words. This was bad; disastrous, even! How could Zugzwang have created a spell that could open any lock, defeat any protective spell? As this demonstration had proven, this meant the end of security in Equestria. There would be nopony that would be safe, nowhere that was protected from him. This was—

"Impossible," Twilight said, having taken the newspaper back and examined the article more carefully. The tone that she spoke in was not one of surprise or shock or denial, but one of certainty, and it was this that struck Flash.

"What's impossible?" Flash asked.

"That he could use one spell for that," Twilight replied, her face settling into the expression that she used for lectures.

"Explain," Flash said. "And when you do it, pretend that I don't know anything at all about magic," he added as Twilight opened her mouth. She shot him a dirty look and continued.

"Basically, one spell from one unicorn couldn't penetrate all of the layers of protection," she said. "It'd be like using one key to try to open several different locks: it just wouldn't work. Unless he was the one who set the spells in the first place. Then he could use a special master spell, kind of like a master key to a lock, to open them. But that's still impossible: only the bank manager and the warden would have the master spells."

"But is it still possible that if he got powerful enough—?" Flash asked.

"I don't see how he could," Twilight replied. "But still..."

"Telegram for Corporal Sentry!" a voice called from the door. A uniformed messenger pony stood before the crystalline doors, holding an envelope. Flash tore open the envelope and read the message within.

"In Manehattan. Stay in Ponyville with Twilight, it's not safe with Z out in public. Will send message if I need help or have more info. Phil."

The manager for the Manehattan Bank was a fat pale blue unicorn with golden fur that surrounded a big bald spot on the top of his head. His green eyes flickered constantly around the richly-decorated office, as if searching for an escape. His hooves, as if trying to keep themselves busy to distract him from the situation he was in, constantly moved, flitting from his cufflinks to the desk to the pink rubber band around his wrist to the photograph on the desk that depicted him with a young colt that was most definitely his son.

The manager was not the first nervous pony that Phillip had dealt with. He waited patiently on the other side of the desk, face impassive, for his chance. When the manager finally cleared his throat and his hooves settled on the desk, Phil spoke.

"You're sure that the spells on the vault were working?"

"Yes, detective," the manager replied in a soft, quavering voice. "I applied the protective spells first thing that morning, as witnessed by my head guard. He personally tested the spells to ensure that they were working, and they were. You can ask him, even though the Guards have already questioned him...and me." His tone turned rather unpleasant, as if he considered this to be a waste of his time.

"And the only way the vault could have been opened is with a teller's key, correct?" Phillip asked, his voice steady and even, ignoring the hard edge in the manager's tone.

"Yes," the manager said, then before he could stop himself, added, "or my master unlock spell."

Phillip did not react. He knew this already, having had some experience with protective locking spells. The bank manager realized what he had said after a moment and quickly stammered out, "N-not that I opened the vault myself! I didn't! Why would I want to rob my own bank? After this, nopony is going to trust this bank again!" He buried his face in his hooves, moaning as if in horrible pain. "I'm ruined!"

Phil looked calmly down at the other pony, theories running through his mind, each one holding itself up for examination briefly before moving aside for the next. Details and clues mapped themselves across his psyche, connections drawing between them like a spider-web. And that was when he found he was missing something.

"Zugzwang left behind a business card, you said?" The manager nodded, but did not raise his head. "Do you still have it or did you give it to the Guards?"

"I threw it out," the manager mumbled through his hooves. "But you can have it if you want." Lowering one hoof so that he could see, he lit up his horn with a watery green glow. The desk drawer opened and the business card floated out into Phillip's waiting hoof.

He exited the office, examining the card. This was recently made: the ink was still fresh. The chess club had an address on the southern side of Manehattan. Frowning, Phillip flipped it over and examined the blank back. There was nothing written there.

No, that couldn't be right. Zugzwang had left it there on purpose, counting on it being found. There had to be something there, something he couldn't see.

That's when a scent caught his nose. The scent of lemon juice. Taking out his lighter, Phillip flicked it open and held the card up to the flame. After a moment, the heat brought the invisible ink to light.

"Tomorrow at 9:30. What can you add to the number one to make it disappear?"

Phil glanced at his watch. It was 1:30 PM. He had enough time to question the warden at the Jail, do some scouting and find a disguise. One of those theories was starting to look more likely by the moment.

Author's Notes:

The second part of the new story. Things are moving along a rapid pace...maybe a bit too rapid? Tell me what you think?