Precinct 3 of the Canterlot City Guard was situated in a tall brick and mortar building nestled next to a bakery: had the frosted windows of the building been open, the evening winter wind would’ve carried delectable scents of fresh loaves into the busy offices within. The City Guards had been most accommodating of the group of consultants, setting aside an unused office for them to use during their investigation.

“All right, let’s go over what we know,” Twilight declared, hovering a marker over a whiteboard that had been sectioned off into six categories: Who, What, Where, When, Why, How.

“We know that at some point in the past few days, Alkaline Block received the package containing the Blood Plague,” Flash said. “What he did with it is unknown.”

“We also know that Dr. Mix died sometime early this morning from a gunshot wound to the head,” a disguised Daring added, dropping the autopsy report onto the table that they were all sitting around. “Whether or not that was self-inflicted remains to be seen.”

“Yes, but it was on the left side of his head, and there’s nothing to indicate that Mix was left-hooved,” Flash pointed out. “If anything, the evidence seems to indicate that he was right-hooved.”

“Furthermore, one of Mix’s dueling pistols was found in Alkaline’s locker,” Phillip added. “Forensic tests confirmed that it had been fired recently.”

“I gotta say that it’s not looking good for Alk,” Applejack stated.

“Alk?” Twilight asked with a raised eyebrow, pausing in her note-taking.

“Pinkie’s idea,” Applejack replied.

“What? It’s a great nickname!” Pinkie said, looking up from the stacks of photographs that she was using as a deck of cards.

“I’m not sure,” Rainbow Dash cut in. “Swirling Ink seems kind of suspicious to me. She said she was out at market, but nopony else can account for that.”

“That is true,” Rarity nodded. “But most of the evidence does weigh heavily against Alkaline.”

Twilight turned back to the board, which was now littered with notes. “But that doesn’t explain what happened to the Blood Plague sample.”

“What’s clear is that somepony in that house was working for Zugzwang,” Phillip declared. “In all likelihood, Dr. Mix was working to refine the Plague, weaponize it.”

“But did he do it willingly or not?” Twilight wondered.

“Oh, I hope he didn’t,” Fluttershy whimpered. “I can’t imagine why anypony would want to do such a thing!”

A knock sounded at the door and Prowl and Bumblebee strode inside. “We just wanted to let you guys know, we’re holding Alkaline Block for further questioning,” Bumblebee reported. “We’re also going to be keeping an eye on Swirling Ink.”

“And we’re interviewing Dr. Mix’s coworkers and students at St. Megan’s University,” Prowl reported. “So far, none of them have reported anything suspicious, but we’ll keep investigating.”

“Good,” Phil nodded.

“We still need to figure out who was working for Zugzwang, and who killed Dr. Mix,” Flash pointed out, bending over the table of amassed photographs and reports. “There has to be something here that tells us where to look.”

“Captain on deck!” Prowl suddenly barked as he and Bumblebee snapped to attention. Both Flash and Phillip also quickly stood and saluted as well as a stallion adorned in golden armor entered the room with a confident stride. This tall black unicorn had a long white mane tied back in a ponytail, and kind blue eyes. His cutie marks were of the Big and Little Dippers, shimmering bright against his coat.

“At ease,” Captain Polaris said with a dismissive wave of his hoof, allowing the stallions to relax. The captain bowed to Twilight. “Your Highness. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. It seems that every time we meet, there is some crisis.”

“Nopony wishes that it were different more than I do, Captain,” Twilight said ruefully. “We appreciate the City Guard’s cooperation. We hope that you don’t think that we’re intruding or doing your job for you.”

“Not at all,” Polaris said with a small smile. “There’s nopony jealous of you here at the department; on the contrary, we’re all quite proud of you, and thankful for what you’ve done.” He locked each of the ponies with an appraising look, his eyes lingering particularly long on Phillip and Flash.

“Thank you, sir,” Flash replied with a rather embarrassed color tinging his cheeks.

“Hey, why would somepony have just one dumbbell?” Pinkie asked.

“Huh?” everypony else asked.

Pinkie held up a photograph taken of Alkaline’s room, displaying the open hooflocker on the floor amidst the rest of the clutter. “See? He’s got only one small dumbbell! Think of all the problems that’d cause! Unilateral development, a spinal curvature!”

Prowl and Bumblebee both looked at Pinkie, then at each other, then turned to Twilight, the same question on both of their eyes. “Yes, she’s like that,” Twilight sighed.

“No, wait,” Phil muttered, taking the photograph that Pinkie was looking at. He shifted through the other pictures, picking out a wide shot of Dr. Mix’s room.

“What are you thinking, dad?” Flash asked.

Phil set the photograph down and yanked out a length of parchment and started writing furiously. “I’ve told you before, Flash: sometimes what isn’t at a crime scene is just as important as what is.” He tore the parchment into several sections and handed one section to each of the mares. Each of them looked at the paper before them with varying levels of incredulity.

“You sure about this?” Rainbow asked.

“It’s something I need to find out,” Phillip stated.

“Perhaps the City Guard could assist,” Polaris suggested with a small note of indignation.

“No offense, captain, but I think my sheilas could do this a bit faster than the Guards could, and you have other things to worry about,” Phillip said in a conciliatory tone. “There is something else I need checked on, though.” He whispered a set of instructions to Polaris, who frowned in thought for a moment, then nodded.

“I’ll get an Investigator on it,” he stated, turning and exiting the room.

“We shall get to work on this, as well,” Rarity nodded, swinging her intricately patterned scarf over her neck as she began to follow the captain out.

“And I’d like to see my parents as long as I’m here,” Twilight added as Spike climbed up onto her shoulders. Flash escorted her out as the rest of the mares followed.

“So, what do you think?” Bumblebee asked Prowl, turning to his partner with an eager grin. “Pizza?”

“Nah, Chineighse,” Prowl replied, following him outside. "Good night, detective Finder, detective Alibi," he nodded to the two remaining ponies as he left.

Only Phillip and Daring were left in the room. Phil groaned quietly and rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“You hungry?” Daring asked, standing up from her chair.

“Yeah,” Phil admitted.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Daring offered. “It’s been a while since we did something together.”

Phil tried to smile, but didn’t quite make it. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

Both of them exited the Precinct out into the streets of Canterlot. “Get a cab?” Daring suggested, drawing up the collar of her coat to shield her face against the wind.

“Nah,” Phil said. “Let’s just walk.”

They proceeded down the sidewalk, passing by several buildings of brick and mortar and modern apartments and condos of wood and glass. Snow continued to lightly fall upon their heads and shoulders as they traversed the neighborhood in comfortable silence. The pair eventually entered the Ancient District, near the center of Canterlot. This purlieu of granite blocks, sandstone structures, and uneven brick roads was as old as the city itself, built long before Luna’s fall as Nightmare Moon. Grandiose temples, theaters, and galleries loomed over smaller, newer homes and businesses that struggled to coexist with these relics of the past.

“I know of a good place near here,” Phil said, turning a corner past an old, grand temple with a relief of an alicorn embossed into the stone arch over the door. He pointed to a wide, low building up ahead, a royal purple canopy over the brightly lit front. The words Three Tribes Eatery were spelled out in golden script above the door.

“Looks nice, Phil,” Daring said as she bumped him with her shoulder, “Come on, let’s go.” With that, she stepped up to the curb and began to cross the street. Phillip followed closely after her, not looking around.

Phillip and Daring pushed open the front glass doors and entered a dim, quiet tavern. The aromas of the scented candles that provided illumination mingled with the odors of cooked food from the kitchen. A small band positioned atop a raised stage towards the back played a haunting tune of strings and flutes that seemed to be carried by the tides of time, each mellow note intermingling with the murmurs of conversation.

“Table for two, please,” Phil said to the uniformed maitre d’, who smiled, escorted them to a small corner table, and bowed them into their seats as he handed them two menus. “Your waiter will be along soon to take your orders, and with a dish of our friendship bread,” he declared before departing.

Daring examined the menu and discovered that the selection was composed mostly of traditional dishes that had been served since before even Faust had taken the throne, intermixed with some modern cuisine. “That fish muddle looks good,” she commented.

“Mm-hmm,” Phil nodded without looking up.

Daring frowned and set her menu down. “All right, what is it?”

“What’s what?” Phil answered bluntly.

“Whatever’s eating you,” Daring pushed. “You’re even quieter than usual.”

Phil studied her for a moment, then set the menu down with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes with a hoof and began to speak.

“I’m scared,” he admitted quietly. “Of Zugzwang. Of what he’s going to do. Of how far he’s going to go.”

“He’s just another criminal, isn’t he?” Daring asked.

Phillip shook his head. “I’ve dealt with sociopaths before. But Zugzwang...he’s not a criminal, he’s a bloody monster. I’ve told you about the night when he came back, right?”

“He trapped your friends in an abandoned building and forced you to solve a bunch of riddles to save them, right?” Daring said.

“It’s not just that,” Phil admitted. “Those were to slow me down, try to keep me from reaching Flash in time.” He swallowed and stared down at his front hooves. “He technically died that night. When I dragged Flash out and he wasn’t breathing...that was the scariest moment of my life.

“But the thing that’s always terrified me…” Phil blinked. “He could’ve killed all of us easily, and he let us live, just so he could play with us some more. He forces me to follow along with his sick, twisted games, and if I make a blue, ponies die.” He licked his lips slowly. “The worst of it is, I’m never sure what he’s going to do, while he always seems to know what I’m going to do. What we’re all going to do. I just…” He lowered his head onto his hoof and slowly rubbed his haggard, gray-streaked mane.

“I’d do anything to protect the ones I love,” he whispered. “And he knows that.”

Daring sat in silence for several seconds, allowing the continuing music to wash over them both. Then she reached out and took Phil’s hoof, gently squeezing it. His flesh was cold to the touch. He looked up at her, his expression not unlike that of a lost foal.

“I learned long ago,” she told him gently, “that you can sit here and let the what-ifs take over, or you can take a deep breath, figure out what needs to get done, and do it.”

Phillip stared at her for a moment, then straightened up in his seat as he inhaled deeply through his nostrils, then exhaled slowly out of his mouth. “Right,” he nodded.

“And what needs to be done right now,” Daring concluded, turning back to her menu. “Is that we need to get some food.”

A bubbly waitress in an old-fashioned dress bounced up to their table to give them a warm loaf of friendship bread, and to take their orders for black coffee and two bowls of fish muddle with a side of baked mushrooms. For the next fifteen minutes, neither of them spoke of the case, or of the threats that loomed over them: the only words they shared were of past adventures and current joys. They laughed over past mishaps, recollected previous escapades, and spoke of future endeavors such as Twilight and Flash's engagement, and Daring's plans for her next book. It wasn’t until they were sharing dessert that the topic turned to more serious subjects.

“Because you wanked every time we got back from a treasure hunt, that’s why,” Phil stated seriously.

Daring shrugged nonchalantly. “I needed to blow off steam. Besides, I always thought of you while I was doing it,” she smirked, leaning forward with a wide smirk and waggling her eyebrows. Phillip flushed to the tips of his folded ears and, in an attempt to cover for his inability to think of something to say, reached for another chocolate-dipped strawberry from the plate in front of them.

“You never could resist those,” Daring commented as he inserted the fruit into his mouth.

Phil swallowed and licked the remnants of the chocolate off his lips with a satisfied murmur. “Good stuff,” he nodded approvingly.

Daring sampled one of the desserts and found it to be sweet and tangy, with a hint of nuts lingering at the end. “That is good,” she agreed.

"It's our own brand of chocolate," their waitress explained cheerily as she collected their plates. "We make it right here in the Eatery." She winked conspiratorially. "It's a secret recipe," she added in a whisper. "Only the chocolatier knows it."

The two of them finished off the dessert in a few minutes and left a generous tip for their waitress before they left. The snow had mostly ceased falling, although a two-inch deep dusting still laid on the ground. Ponies walked past, their snow-dusted coats brightly lit by the street lamps. Daring pulled Phil close to her side with a wing for warmth, grinning at the way he flushed. A bell from the Abbey that they'd passed rang out for the evening service.

“We should get back to the precinct,” she suggested.

“Right,” Phil nodded. “Still got one or two things I want to check on—”

His sentence was interrupted by screams of terror coming from inside the restaurant. He and Daring whirled around as the doors burst open and a pony staggered out. Both of them pulled back in horror at the sight in front of them.

The stallion’s skin seemed to be shrinking, shriveling up against his bones. His entire body was convulsed with shivers, and his breathing was ragged and interspersed with wet, heavy coughs. But most horrific of all was the blood: it oozed from his pores, and streamed from his nostrils and tear ducts. His mouth gaped open as he stared at them with wide, terrified eyes; his body was covered in a thick, oily red liquid that left a spotted crimson trail behind him.

“Help me!” he pleaded, stumbling towards them. “Please, help me!” He collapsed to his knees, coughing thick streams of tar-colored blood and mucus onto the ground.

Daring and Phillip hesitated, caught between their desire to help and their repulsion of the symptoms. Other pedestrians stared in a mixture of panic.

“Get back! Get away from him!” a voice barked, clear and strong and piercing the panic. A stallion adorned in bright purple armor raced up to the retching pony, surrounding him with a purple field of magic and lifting him off the ground.

“Keep away! You!” the savior barked, pointing at the restaurant manager, who was standing in the doorway. “Get on the phone and call an ambulance! Now!” The manager stammered, nodded, and hurried back inside. The armored stallion carried the blood-covered pony into the alleyway next to the restaurant, and gently set him down on the snowy ground. Phillip and Daring followed him, watching in silence.

“I’m sorry,” the armored stallion whispered, lighting his horn and touching it to the trembling pony’s temple. The infected pony shuddered, his eyes rolling. A few seconds later, his body relaxed and his eyes closed slowly as a deep, almost relieved sigh. The armored pony rose slowly, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of his act, and turned around.

“Captain Armor,” Phillip greeted him quietly.

“Detective,” Shining Armor sighed with a nod. “I think you know what this is about.”

Phillip looked down at the body, studying the crimson liquids that still cascaded down its form and stained the white snow. “The Blood Plague.”

Zugzwang carved out an intricate matrix of swirls and runes on the wooden floor of the room with a piece of chalk, then carefully placed one of the carved crystals at key points on the matrix.

“These are truly from the Friendship Castle?” Scarlet Letter asked, studying the blue-purple shards on the floor. She, Laurier de Montaigne, Coin Toss, Doctor Nevermore, and Star Watcher watched as Zugzwang completed setting up the magical symbol.

“Indeed,” Zugzwang confirmed. “Frau Glimmer was most eager in her research; her reports have made a fascinating read.”

“This magic thing is a bit over my head, but I’ve no interest in acting the maggot, Zugzwang,” Coin Toss said gruffly, tossing a bit to himself. “What’s the point of this?”

“The key to our revenge,” Zugzwang replied, a wide smile crossing his face as he reached underneath his suit with his magic and extracting the drawstring pouch. “Damen und Herren...behold.” With a flourish, he opened up the pouch and pulled out several small fragments of what appeared to be blood red stones, smooth and curved like bone. One of the pieces ended in a sharp, curved point like the tip of a saber. Recognition, then disbelief shone in the face of each of the guests.

“That’s...that’s fragments of Sombra’s horn!” Laurier declared, voicing the thought on everypony’s mind.

“But how?” Star Watcher asked, staring at the deadly artifact in awe. “It was destroyed at Clovenworth Island months ago!”

“It was,” Zugzwang explained, placing the horn fragments in the center circle of the chalk symbol. “I would have preferred to have the entire, single piece for use, but Shining Armor prevented that." He gritted his teeth and growled. "Fortunately, I managed to escape with some of the pieces.

“For months, I have been trying to unlock the remnants of the power inside, trying to take it as mine. And now, the instrument of our revenge is at hoof.”

“But how do we help? Not all of us are unicorns,” Nevermore stated, indicating himself and Star Watcher.

“I do not need your magic,” Zugzwang explained, lighting up his horn. “I need your hatred. The crystals act as a lens that focuses and strengthens magic, including the magic of emotions. Right now, they are filled with positive emotions: love, hope, friendship. By focusing my magic, bolstered by your anger and hatred, through the crystals, I should be able to fill them up with our emotions, which will focus the magic into the fragments, then back into me.”

He looked each of his guests in the eye. “This is the instrument of our vengeance. Because of this, when all this is over and Canterlot lays in ashes, they will all remember us. They will fear our names: the Scarlets, the Mareish Mob, and the Pawns. And we will finally taste the blood of the ones that wronged us.”

Scarlet grinned. “Then let us begin.”

Zugzwang took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. Pale golden magic filtered along his horn, then into the crystal in front of him. Like a prism, the crystal bent the ray of energy into the next crystal, then the next, until it formed an intricate web of magic that focused onto the broken horn in the center.

“Summon your feelings of anger, of vengeance,” Zugzwang stated. “Imagine those that you hate in your power.”

The other villains all summoned their deepest emotions of vengefulness, entertaining delightful, tantalizing images of their enemies at their mercy, suffering in the most delicious ways they could think of.

The beams of energy became intermixed with streaks of scarlet, glowing brighter and brighter until the room seemed to grow dark by comparison. Zugzwang grunted, his face tight with concentration as he struggled to keep the spell going. The crystals shook as though in fear as their royal purple coloring was slowly replaced with black. The fragments quivered and shook in the center, and a deep growling noise filled the air.

“Master—?” Star Watcher called out uncertainly.

“Name him,” Zugzwang growled through his teeth, his eyes wild and his voice like the snarl of a manticore. “Name the one who represents everything we stand against. Name the one who tried to take everything from us!”

There was a moment of confusion, then five voices spoke the name as one, their tones conveying the kind of hatred that only souls as dark as theirs could carry: “Phillip Finder.”

The extra ounce of emotion was enough. With a great clap like thunder, the scarlet red fragments suddenly shattered, then reformed at once as a ball of swirling, blood red energy. The energy rushed along the streams of golden energy, overwhelming them and surging back through the crystals and into Zugzwang’s horn. The unicorn let out a terrible screech of agony as the dark magic infused his body, lifting him up off the ground in a cloud of gold and red lightning.

“Master!” Star Watcher shouted, racing forward to help, only to be stopped by Nevermore’s wing.

The ponies backed a safe distance away and watched in horror as Zugzwang continued to writhe and scream in pain, the magic coursing around him and into his horn, eyes, mouth and chest. It took almost a full minute for the terrible spectacle to finally end as the last of the magic entered Zugzwang’s body. He collapsed to the floor, trembling and panting.

“Zugzwang!” Scarlet cried, rushing to his side. She gently shook his shoulder. “Zugzwang, can you hear me?”

Zugzwang opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at the group with his abyssal gaze. He slowly sat up, breathing deeply as he regained control of himself, then looked up at his horn. A faint swirl of smoke wafted from the tip of his organ. He tentatively began to channel magic up his horn. It glowed with a yellow-red aura, and thicker smoke, as dark and black as though they were tangible shadows, wafted into the air. The smoke coalesced towards the floor into small clouds. Then, with a great rumbling, black, jagged crystals suddenly erupted from the clouds, crackling horribly as they solidified.

An elated smile crossed Zugzwang’s face and something horrible flickered in his black irides. “Ha,” he breathed in a rapturous tone. “Ha ha ha ha ha.”

Even Nevermore had to fight the urge to back away.

Author's Notes:

Fear. Death. Power. All of that is coming, and very soon, because now you know what was in that drawstring pouch.

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