It was a somber group that gathered in the throne room of the Rainbow Castle the next morning. The six mares sat in their crystal thrones, yawning and avoiding one another’s gazes as they ran through the events of the last night. Flash stood stiffly at attention next to Twilight’s throne, blinking his shadowed eyes as he studied the crystal map that they surrounded.

Finally, the doors opened and Phillip trotted in, shaking the disheveled strands of his mane out of his eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he grumbled, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. “Dr. Breeze showed up this morning and wanted to speak to me. It went on longer than I thought it would.” He walked up to the table and rubbed his eyes with a sigh.

“All right,” Twilight declared. “I think it’s best that we all go over what we know already.” She lit up her horn and the map began to move, zooming in on the Crystal Empire.

“Several months ago, a sample of a rare infectious disease called the Blood Plague was brought to the Princess Amore University in the Crystal Empire for study. Two weeks ago, that sample and all the compiled research was stolen from the laboratory.

“The Crystal City Guards tracked the stolen biological sample outside the city and across Equestria.” A red line began to trace its way across the map, from the Crystal Empire traveling south across Equestria, ricocheting off of several cities before eventually coming to a stop in Ponyville. “Eventually, it made its way to Ponyville, at which point this case was handed to us. We found that the sample had been given to Winged Letter.”

“Who handed off the package to somepony else before we could catch him,” Flash added. “And as we learned last night, he was working for Zugzwang.”

A shudder ran across the room at the dreaded name. Flash paused for a moment before nodding for Phillip to continue.

“I did some checking with the post office last night,” he reported. “Winged sent a package to Canterlot five days ago. I managed to get the address he sent it to. We need to investigate.”

“Agreed,” Twilight stated, tapping her hooves together nervously. “This is from Princess Celestia herself; she wants us all working on this. If Zugzwang has a sample of the Blood Plague, he could potentially weaponize it and…” She swallowed. “That could be a very, very, very bad thing!”

“Is it really that bad?” Fluttershy asked in concern.

Twilight nodded as she pulled a book off a nearby shelf: a great tome titled Magical Maladies and Diseases. She flipped it open and began to read from a chapter. “Sanguis plaga, the Blood Plague, is a rare, highly infectious cursed disease that can be air or waterborne. It was created in the six hundredth and sixty-sixth year of Luna’s Banishment by a wicked wizard as a curse; with the aid of several mages versed in healing magic, Princess Celestia managed to contain and control it, though it could not be completely destroyed. Initial signs of an infection include: weakness, chills, nausea, and cramps, followed by profuse bleeding from the pores, nostrils and eyes. The victim eventually exsanguinates and dies in horrible pain. Ugh, there’s a color illustration, that’s disgusting…” She grimaced, then looked up. “There is no vaccine, no cure, and the disease has a fatality rating of 92 percent. So, yes, this is bad.”

“I’ve sent a telegraph to Daring,” Phillip reported. “She’ll meet us in Canterlot to help.”

“Awesome!” Rainbow cheered.

“And Captain Polaris has contacted us, he’ll be there to help us with the investigation,” Flash added. “I mean, assuming that you all are going.”

“Of course we’re going,” Applejack stated as though pointing out an obvious fact. “Ain’t that right, gals?” There was a chorus of assent from the other four mares.

“All right, everypony,” Phillip stated. “The train to Canterlot leaves soon, we need to hurry.” He turned and bustled out of the room. The five mares followed after him to return to their homes and retrieve whatever necessities they would need for this journey.

Twilight exited the throne room, already thinking up a checklist of things that she would need to bring on this journey. So absorbed was she in her own thoughts that she almost bumped into Spike, who had been loitering outside the door.

“Hey, Twilight,” he said, twiddling his claws together. “So, uh, we’re going to be going to Canterlot, huh?”

“Yes, Spike,” Twilight reported, trotting into her bedroom and quickly tossing some necessities into her saddlebags; said necessities being mostly books.

“Twilight, I was thinking,” Spike said, selecting some scarves and earmuffs and placing them in the bags. “You know that somepony was...was watching us, right?”

Twilight shivered at the thought. “Yes, Spike.”

“What if it was Zugzwang?” Spike asked. “And what if he was the one who stole Starlight’s research and the crystals?”

Twilight paused, a nervous swallow passing down her throat. “I had thought of that, Spike,” she said. “But if it is him, I don’t know what he’s planning to do with it...nor do I want to imagine it,” she added.

Spike sighed. “I wish Starlight was still here. I hope she comes back from her village soon.”

“Me too, Spike,” Twilight agreed. She lifted her saddlebags onto her shoulders. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Spike nodded, swinging his awaiting backpack onto his shoulders. Both of them exited the room to find the Flash waiting for them, adorned in full kit and his face grim. He escorted them out of the castle, into the snowy air of early winter Ponyville. A fresh, pure white snowfall was descending from the sky, alighting on the faces of the ponies wandering beneath. The smiles upon the faces of their neighbors seemed to mock the friends as they traipsed down the frost-covered streets, headed for the train station.

“Guys?” Spike commented, riding atop Twilight’s shoulders. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Nopony said anything, but they all had the same feeling deep in their guts.

Steam billowed from the creaking locomotive as it pulled into the Canterlot station. The eight ponies and the dragon emerged from the carriage and stepped onto the icy platform. Proceeding through the station, they emerged onto the snow-dusted cobblestones of Carriage Street. A rapid, multi-colored river of carriages and ponies stretched out before them, as if trying to deny them entry.

Phillip paused at the edge of the sidewalk and nodded to an alleyway across the street. A mare adorned in a long, hooded gray winter parka was waiting in the shadows in between two buildings, her face muffled by a light green scarf. Upon sighting them, the mare disappeared further into the narrow alley. The group of friends managed to wade across the river of ponies to the other side and entered the alleyway after her.

The mare was waiting around the corner, leaning against the wall. As the group approached her, she lifted up her hood and tugged her scarf down, revealing her smiling face and greyscale mane.

“Hey, Phil,” Daring Do greeted him, allowing him to kiss her briefly upon the lips. “Good to see you all again,” she said to the others, tussling Rainbow’s mane affectionately.

“Wow,” Spike breathed softly, his eyes widening as his pupils focused upon the literary hero that appeared to have leapt right from the pages of her own books.

“No autographs,” Daring deadpanned to Spike. His face fell. She gave him a quick smile and a wink before turning back to Phillip, her expression becoming more serious.

“I checked that address you sent me,” she reported. “It’s a PO Box registered to one Alkaline Block. He’s a graduate student who lives at a mansion in the countryside with a Dr. Pyrophoric Mix. Neither of them have any criminal record or anything suspicious that I could find. I already got their address.”

“Thanks, Daring,” Phillip nodded. “We—”

Before he could finish that thought, he gasped as a jolt of harsh, penetrating cold rushed through his body. His blood froze in his veins, and a sheet of ice covered his bones. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, the cold was killing him, and the entire nation was covered in frost…

“Phillip! Phillip!”

The voices of his friends pulled him back to reality, and he realized that he was laying against the brick wall, his body trembling.

“Where? Where is it?” Daring asked urgently.

Phil fought to speak through his chattering teeth as the crime sense warning faded away. “I...I don’t know. It felt like...everywhere.”

The friends all exchanged looks of concern. “We need to get to that address, now,” Rainbow declared.

“Right,” Flash nodded, grasping Phillip underneath his forelegs. The pegasi picked up the flightless members of the group and they took to the cloud-streaked skies. Daring guided them towards the northwest of Canterlot. They passed over the gilded houses of the rich elite of Equestria, then the smaller condos of the lower classes, then finally the grassy mountainous regions on the borders of the capital where the richer members of society that valued their privacy built their mansions.

Daring signaled to the others behind her and pointed down. A medium-sized estate lay far beneath them, its bright red brick and and trim brown rooftop standing in stark contrast against the greens and whites of the snowy woods. A small pond, not yet frozen over, sat on the house’s northern wall. A smooth pathway led up to the front of the house. Parked in the cul-de-sac were two black and white motorized carriages, the red and blue lights atop their roofs switched off.

“Uh-oh,” Phillip muttered as Flash banked downwards, carrying him towards the ground. The others swooped down to the land on the thin snow. The City Guard who was standing sentinel in on top of the stone steps jumped as they appeared in front of him. Snow clung to his bright yellow armor.

“Your Highness!” he cried, recognizing Twilight and instinctively kneeling. “I’m afraid that you can’t come in here, this is an investigation.”

“It’s all right, private. I know them,” a voice called through the opening door. A dark blue unicorn with a gold-white mane adorned in the armor of a City Guard stepped out of the door. He wore two chevrons upon the collar of his armor, and his shoulders were marked with the silver bars of an Investigator.

“Prowl!” Flash cried, instantly brightening at the sight of his friend.

“Your Highness, Flash, nice to see you again,” Prowl nodded, his black eyes passing over the rest of the group before settling on Pinkie Pie. She gave him a tense, embarrassed smile and waved briefly.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Prowl asked, turning back to Flash. “We just got the call half an hour ago.”

“What call?” Twilight asked. “We’re here because of something else.”

“Ah,” Prowl stated. “I assumed you were here to assist with the murder of Dr. Mix.”

“Murder?” Twilight cried.

Prowl nodded. “We arrived here ten minutes ago after a call from Alkaline Block, the student who lives here. He had found Dr. Mix dead in his bedroom and called us immediately. We arrived at the same time as his wife, and we are questioning both of them now.” Prowl considered the group for a moment, then nodded to Flash and Phillip. “Perhaps it’s best if you two take a look at this.” He walked back inside and held the door open for them.

Phil and Flash looked at the others. “Too many cooks spoil the soup,” Phillip commented.

“Soup? What kind of soup? Some tomato soup would be good!” Pinkie put in.

“Are you coming?” Prowl called impatiently. “We’re letting in a draft.”

“We’ll wait out here,” Twilight said, despite the looks of disappointment on the other ponies faces. Flash and Phillip nodded and entered the house after Prowl.

They passed through a hallway and entered a great living room with maplewood flooring and a blazing fireplace in the corner. The wall in the back was dominated by an abstract portrait of subdued blues and blacks. Sitting on the sofa was a young unicorn stallion with a mop of blue and yellow hair, a ceramic white coat and baleful blue eyes, slowly rubbing his front hooves together. His cutie mark was a pair of steaming test tubes filled with blue liquid.

An earth pony City Guard with a golden coat and black and yellow hair was sitting before him, taking notes in a notebook. He looked around at the other ponies’ entrance. “Flash? Detective Finder?” he asked in surprise before remembering that he was supposed to salute.

“Hey Bumblebee,” Flash smiled, returning the salute.

Bumblebee started to grin, but quickly returned himself to seriousness. “All right, Mr. Block, let’s go over your story one more time.”

Alkaline Block looked up at the strangers with an exhausted look splashed across his face. “I woke up late this morning and after a quick breakfast, went straight downstairs to the laboratory to finish up last night’s experiment on binding of healing thaumaturgic formulas into cellular delivery systems. I recorded the results and brought them up to the doctor’s bedroom.”

“He didn’t do the experiments with you?” Flash cut in.

“No, he uh...he let me do a lot of the work myself while he worked mainly on theory.” Alkaline paused, his eyes drifting to face directly in front of him and no longer focusing on anything. “I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. The door was unlocked, so I walked in. He was…” The student hesitated, swallowing and rubbing his foreleg with one hoof. “He was dead. I ran out and used the phone to call the City Guard. That was about thirty minutes ago.”

“Did you ever have any disagreements with the doctor?” Bumblebee asked him, turning back to his notebook.

“No, never,” Alkaline shook his head. “He treated me as well as a member of the family while I was working for him.”

“And what were you working on?” Phillip asked.

Alkaline blinked in surprise. “We...we were working on new methods of medicine delivery through aerosol. Dr. Mix thought he could use it to treat ponies with respiratory problems.”

“Did you pick up a package a few days ago?” Phillip pressed.

“Yes,” Alkaline answered slowly. “It was supplies for the doctor. I gave them to him. Why are you asking me this?”

“It may pertain to why Dr. Mix was killed,” Phillip answered, turning to Bumblebee. “Can we have a look at the scene?”

“Uh…” Bumblebee muttered, turning to Flash. “Well, if you’re here on Princess Twilight’s instructions, I guess. It’s upstairs. Just be careful, we want to keep it fresh for the CSIs.”

“Thanks,” Flash nodded, turning around and heading down a hallway, Phillip following. As they passed by a different room, they saw a plump unicorn mare with a pristine golden coat, burnt orange locks, and the cutie mark of an open journal with a bright blue quill resting on the pages. She was speaking to a pale blue mare City Guard.

“That’s his wife, Swirling Ink,” Bumblebee told them, noticing their pausing. “She says that she hasn’t seen Dr. Mix since she left for market early this morning. Arrived here at the same time we did.”

“Do I remember anything unusual?” Ink was musing in response to the Guard’s question. “Well, aside from the usual unusualness...yes, I heard him on the phone yesterday morning. He was saying, ‘No, I can put it there while it’s being painted.’ He did order another one of his ridiculous paintings, so I assumed that’s what he was talking about.” Even with her back turned, the eye roll was obvious.

The two stallions continued down the hallway, past walls decorated with more abstract paintings, and up a set of stairs into a small bedroom on the second floor. The door was blocked off with the familiar yellow tape with its bold message: “CRIME SCENE: DO NOT ENTER.” The Guard posted sentry before the door saluted Flash and lifted up the tape to allow them entry.

The bedroom inside was decorated with more abstract paintings on the walls; the most prominent one was simply a canvas painted different shades of white placed over the head of the twin bed. A bookshelf sat against the opposite wall, next to a closet door. Opposite the door into the room was a simple but elegant writing desk. Slumped in the chair before this desk was a middle-aged pegasus with a pale golden coat and silvery blue tufts of hair, which faintly stirred in the chill draft that entered the room through the slightly open window in front of him. His cutie mark was a beaker full of red liquid sitting atop a burner flame. His head sagged onto his right shoulder, revealing the bloodstained, stippled bullet hole on the left side of his head, just below his ear.

“Dr. Mix, I presume,” Phillip commented as they carefully approached the body. The doctor’s face had fallen into an almost solemn expression, his emerald eyes half-closed. Phillip carefully examined the gunshot wound. “Point-blank range to the head. Could’ve been self-inflicted.”

“Look here though,” Flash said, examining the desk. “His pencil case and the telephone set are on his right. Suggests that he was right-hoofed.” He slowly looked around the room. “And where’s the gun?” He walked back to the door. “Was a gun removed from this room?” he asked the sentry.

“No, sir,” the Guard reported. “The room is exactly how it was found. Mrs. Ink stated that the victim owned a pair of pistols, but we haven’t found either of them yet.”

Flash shivered as another northern breeze blew through the window. “I see,” he nodded, turning back into the room. Phillip was studying a shelf up on the wall. Sitting upon it were a number of golfing trophies and awards, and a photograph of Dr. Mix with a group of other ponies. The now deceased scientist was grinning broadly at the camera, holding up a set of expensive-looking golf clubs that were engraved with his cutie marks.

“So Ink claimed to be out to market, but I didn’t see any bags or anything on her,” Flash stated to Phillip. “And Alkaline says that he didn’t hear the sound of a gunshot while in the same house. This is fishy.”

“Agreed,” Phillip nodded. He looked out the open window, running his hoof over a long chip in the otherwise smooth ledge. His gaze turned down to the desk. An open book of poetry sat on the table in front of the dead pony, revealing a short sonnet:

“I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—“Four vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hoof that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozycoltias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.””

“We should check to see if there’s anything that got missed,” Flash suggested. He turned to the closet and opened the door wide. There wasn’t anything of interest in the closet: merely some suits hanging up on hangers and a few empty suitcases.

“Odd,” Flash commented. “None of the wife’s clothes are in here.”

“You didn’t notice the sheets and pillow next to the couch in the living room?” Phillip said.

“I thought they were for him,” Flash admitted sheepishly.

Phillip chastisement was cut short by shouting from downstairs. The two hurried back downstairs to see Alkaline struggling with two Guards that were trying to place shackles around his hooves. Swirling Ink watched from the doorway, looking aghast.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” he was protesting desperately as Bumblebee pinned him down. “I’ve never seen it before in my life!”

“Bit odd how this ended up in your locked footlocker, then,” Prowl commented, holding up a silver-handled percussion cap dueling pistol with a long, engraved barrel. “You will be held for questioning at the local precinct until we find out what happened here.”

Alkaline was led out of the house, still protesting his innocence, as Flash and Phillip watched. Prowl turned to them both. “With respect, sirs, the crime scene team will be here momentarily. It’d be best that they not have anypony interfering with them.”

“I understand,” Flash nodded. He and Phillip exited the house, steeling themselves against the cold wind outside.

“There you are,” Daring said, approaching. “What’s going on in there?”

Phillip looked around at the others, chewing on his lower lip. “I think things just got more complicated.”

The fresco of the Last Judgement seemed to have become clearer in the past few weeks, the terrified faces of the damned and the victorious sneers upon the demons’ countenances turning sharper with each passing day. Zugzwang sat with his back turned to the painting, his hooves idly dancing over the keys of the pipe organ as he summoned a low, murmuring tune from the instrument.

Footsteps sounded from behind him, but he did not turn around, nor pause in his playing. The pony approached quickly, then paused a few feet behind him.

“Master,” Star Watcher reported. “We’ve just received word: Finder and his friends are all here. Shall we order the attack now?”

Zugzwang paused, slowly reaching underneath his shirt. From beneath his clothing, he extracted a small red drawstring pouch, hanging from around his neck.

“Not yet,” he declared. “There is still one thing that needs to be done.” He turned to his apprentice. “Summon Dr. Nevermore, Coin Toss, and Scarlet.”

Author's Notes:

None of this bodes well for anypony.

A lot is going to happen in this story, so I'm going to try to move pretty quickly, at least at first. I hope you're looking forward to the next chapter! Comments and criticisms are appreciated.

Avid and attentive mystery readers may have noticed some small details that may point them towards the murderer of Dr. Mix. Did you find them?