One of the things I admire most about Ponyville, aside from its lack of crime, is its unconditional cheeriness. The bright colors of the buildings and plants and rivers stood out even amongst the worst situations, adding a bit of whimsy to them. Even the day of that terrible storm when the clouds looked sunken and gray, almost as if they were letting out waves of rain in sobs, the town stood tall and happy, seeming to ignore the depressing weather attacking it. And that made my trek through this depression slightly more bearable.

Sheets of raindrops pelted against my coat as I pushed through the insanely strong gusts of wind that carried them. I even had to go so far as to leaning forward as I trotted to the scene of the cri-… aw, horseapples. I didn't ask the Mayor where the incident happened. I had no idea where I was going.

I sighed, angry and ashamed at my own stupidity, and began looking around for somepony to ask for directions. Finding a pony that knew where the riot happened wouldn't be too difficult. Ponyville is quaint, but infamous for its wildfire rumors and gossip. It would, however, be VERY difficult to find somepony insane enough to be out in this downpour like I was. After several minutes of sprinting around town and searching, I finally found a mare sitting beneath an awning, looking up at the sky with clear disdain.

I quickly joined her underneath and leaned against the wall of the building the awning was attached to. I shivered and refrained from shaking all of the water off, just standing there and letting the water drip down my skin. It was much less pleasant, but much more courteous. I kept my vision focused ahead and asked the mare, "Don't mind if I dry off a bit here, do you?"

" 'Course not! It's totally fine."

I could barely stop myself from giggling my flank off at the sound of the filly's voice. In the span of those 5 words, her voice had cracked twice, forming a very humorous combination with her awkward, teenage vocal chords. I looked over at the stranger to get a better look at her. The Pegasus couldn't have been a day over 13. Her legs were even scrawnier and awkwardly disproportionate with their torso than Big Mac's. She had a baby blue hide and, I kid you not, a rainbow-colored mane. She probably dyed it that way; kids often pulled weird stuff like that to be "different" and to "embrace their inner individual", or some horseradish like that. Damned kids these days.

As I noticed her features, I failed to realize that she was giving me a rather heated scowl, going so far as to narrow her eyes to add to the effect. "And what exactly was so funny?" she practically accused. Yet again, her voice cracked, and this time I couldn't control myself. I burst out laughing. Yeah, sure, we call go through that phase in life and it's hypocritical to laugh at it, but it's still pretty darn funny.

Fortunately, I managed to apologize, in the midst of laughing at the filly for hitting puberty. And they say I don't have class. "Heh, s-sorry. I didn't know you were a teen. It's just… *chuckle* your voice. Found the cracking funny."

She angrily blushed and kicked me in the shin. It probably would've hurt if I hadn't been a seasoned detective that'd taken a few beatings back in the day. And it would've hurt even more if she wasn't scrawny. Instead of the satisfying "Ouch!" she was no doubt expecting, she only found the gesture to make me laugh even harder.

She huffed in frustration and turned the other way, bitterly murmuring, "Jerk."

The sincere embarrassment and anger in her voice sobered me up. Way to be a model good guy, Gumshoe. I cleared my throat and threw as much earnest into my apology as I could. "Seriously though, I am sorry. It was very immature of me to react like that, especially since you can't help it. I apologize."

Somehow, she managed to change her expression and attitude entirely in the span of a few seconds. I'm pretty sure that's a skill fillies develop when they get into their teens. She looked back at me like I was crazy. "Sheesh, dude, no need to get so serious. You just laughed at my voice. You didn't call me names or stuff like that. Chillax."

I internally cringed, just a bit. Great. Teenage lingo. I could already tell this was going to be a fun conversation. My mental complaint was interrupted by a question that took me quite by surprise.

"Say… you're that detective guy, right?"

I raised an eyebrow at that. Somepony actually heard of me? And referred to me as a detective, and not "the lost-and-found guy"? I liked this kid already. "Ummm… yes. But how do you know that?"

"My friends in this town were talking about which pony here was the most introverted. Your name was mentioned here and there."

I frowned. Resident Grouch, I could deal with, but Resident Introvert? I reiterate: damned kids these days. I cleared my throat, trying not to look too bothered. "I prefer the term, 'enigmatic', thank you very much."

"Hey, they mentioned you, not me." She said defensively. A brief pause passed before she turned back to me and asked, "So… how good are you at your job?"

"At detecting?"

"No, at baking pies. Yes, at detecting, you dolt."

I snorted. "I only ask because there's not really a unit of measurement for detective skills."

She grinned, fortunately. It was a relief to see somepony who enjoyed sarcasm from both sides. "Aw, c'mon, Mister Gumshoe. Detectives make observations and stuff, right? Why don't you observe someone and make an inference or deduction about them, or something."

"Wow. I don't think I've ever heard someone describe my job even half as badly as you just did. I think that may actually make me want to quit. Take up basket-weaving or something." She scoffed, but I continued. "Fortunately for you, I understand what you mean. And I already made an observation while I've been standing here." I looked at her and frowned. "You're here to visit their kid, aren't you?"

Her eyes widened, but the sweat on her brow made it obvious that it was due to amazement and a small amount of fear instead of confusion. "Kid? Whose kid?"

"Alrighty then," I began, "let's take it from the top. First off: you ain't from Ponyville, kid. Any average Joe can see that. Your accent reeks of Cloudsdale. In addition, you said, 'My friends in this town'. 'This town' implies that you don't live here because, if you did, you would've just said, 'My friends'. So, therefore, it can be assumed that you're a Cloudsdale Pegasus visiting this town for who-knows-what reason. Am I wrong for making this deduction?"

She nervously shook her head and I continued. "And then there's the fact that you're hanging around this bakery. There are plenty of bakeries in Cloudsdale, aren't there? I know Mr. and Mrs. Cake make some good pastries, but I doubt that they're worth travelling all the way here from Cloudsdale."

"Now hold on!" She interjected. "I didn't visit this place on purpose! I was just caught in the rain and came under here for shelter, just like you!"

I snorted. "So, you magically got completely dry from the storm that started not even 10 minutes ago? Even if you shook yourself dry, at the very least, your hair would still be soaked. And yet, here you are, bone-dry. That can only mean that you've gone inside the building, at the time of, if not before, the storm's beginning."

She started to retort but I continued anyways. It's rude, I know, but when you get on a roll like this it's hard to stop. "And that brings up another matter entirely. Why were you out here, underneath the sunshade? You could easily loiter in the bakery, where there's a nice, toasty oven and fireplace. Yet, instead, you hang around outside, staring out into the rain. Seems like something somepony with a lot to think about would do."

"Okay, so what!" She defensively replied. "I'm visiting the bakery and I happen to have a lot to think about. What's that got to do with some kid?"

"Very early this morning, only a little past midnight, two Pegasi were trampled by a very suspicious riot in which all the nearby ponies were enthralled in an almost rage-induced state. The confusion only lasted about a minute, but that was plenty of time to kill the victims, who were a married couple. Their names were Scooter and Lucy. They were both in their early-30s and had a child, a 2-year-old filly named Scootaloo. She's currently being held in the custody of Mr. and Mrs. Cake until either an adoptive family or an orphanage is found for her. So, I can only wonder what a Pegasus, who seems saddened and lost in thought, is doing loitering around this particular bakery on the day that they took in the kid."

One of the perks of being a detective was being able to lay down a deductive smack-down on people, piecing together little bits and pieces of facts to form a whole story and background to something. It's like a magic trick, but with common sense instead of a wand.

The poor filly looked down at the ground and kicked some dirt off of the pavement in front of the door. "… Huh. So that's how good you are."

Nice. First I laugh at her for going through puberty and then I completely invade her privacy. Way to go, cop. I sighed and shook my head. "… Sorry. I went and invaded your privacy. It's none of my business what you're doing here. Look, I've just been making a mule of myself the entire time I've been drying off under here, and the rain looks like it's letting up, so I think I'm just gonna get out of your hair."

I trotted off as fast as I could, completely ashamed of myself. This is why I keep to myself in my office, only interacting with clients. I either act distant, coming off as a bit cold, or I go way too personal and violate about a million boundaries. I blame being raised in the big city. Makes you go a little loopy.

In any case, I trotted off into the small drizzle that was what remained of the storm. In fact, it wasn't even drizzling. It was simply leftover water in the trees or on the rooftops of the town's buildings lazily dripping into the gutters and onto the dirt below. The clouds made the small change from depressing black to melancholy gray, and a little bit of sunshine was penetrating a hole in their defenses. I smiled at my good luck. Better weather, more ponies outside. More ponies outside, the sooner I could get some directions to the crime scene.

As I continued trotting forward, turning my head now and then to look for anypony that had already taken advantage of the weather letting up, I felt a front leg extend in front of me to stop me from proceeding. It didn't take much thought to figure whose leg it was. I looked down at the filly levelly and muttered, "Listen, kid. I have to go, now. There's a very important case I have to work, and I have no clue where the whole thing's gone down. So that means, I have to walk around on this depressing day and find somepony to give me directions. And I'm kind of on a time crunch, so I do not have time to play tag with some filly. Now, please step aside, pipsqueak."

"It's about Scoot's parents, isn't it?"

I raised an eyebrow and put on my best pokerface, another skill developed in the detective trade. "Why in Equestria would I investigate that? The policecolts are already almost wrapped up on that case."

"Which is why you know so much about what happened, right? Because you just happened to be informed on the police's business so thoroughly, that you could probably write a report with all the stuff you just said."

I cringed. She had a point, unfortunately. I tried to find a rebuttal, but she cut me off before I could. She craned her neck to give herself the illusion of being taller and gave me a look far too solemn for someone her age to have any business making. "Listen. I won't tell anyone about this. But I want to help put whatever sicko did this in jail, however I can. Scootaloo's parents helped me out of several jams, and they were pretty much my own Mom and Dad, they helped me so much. I can't just sit around and watch you do this all alone. I can help you. Just… please, let me."

I exhaled when she finished. I really shouldn't have. That pretty much proved to her that she was right. Still, I had to try. "Listen, pipsqueak, you're making a huge assumption here, and I'm telling you now, it's wrong." She gave me a nasty frown and shook her head, so I quickly amended, "Fine. You're right, that's what this case is about. But I still don't even know if this was a murder or not."

"I don't care." She quickly stated. "I either want to help you if it is, or I want to be there when you prove it's not."

"Listen, pipsqueak," I began to gnash my teeth, "this isn't some game where we look around town for the 'bad pony' and when we find him, he puts his hooves up and surrenders. If Scoot and Lucy were murdered, they'd have been murdered by a powerful unicorn, probably more powerful than me. He'd have the ability to control a whole group of ponies' thoughts. He'd be a dangerous sociopath and I'll be DAMNED if I let some kid hobble around behind me while I look for, or, Celestia-forbid, confront him. So the answer is no. Absolutely not. Go. Home. Now."

I walked away, but only for a few seconds. "… I know where the scene of the crime is."

Dammit.

I trotted back to her in a flash and kneeled so that our eyes were level. I glared at her with all the passion I had. I was in no way amused by what kind of manure she was trying to pull. "Then you're going to tell me. Now. I'm not going to play any games with you, pipsqueak. You tell me where, or I'm arresting your flank for withholding information from an officer of the law."

"Pfffff," she scoffed, "I'm a minor. I'll be in trouble for, what, a day? And it looks to me that you don't have time to ask anypony else, let alone arrest me and ask anypony else." She donned the most smug grin I'd ever seen. It really, really ticked me off. "So I guess you don't have any choice, do you?"

She was right. Time was of the essence. After a few moments' hesitation, I sighed and nodded, accepting defeat with much more grace than I expected. "… Fine. Sure. Welcome to the PI-life, pipsqueak. But I require one demand. And if you break it, even once, I am going to drag your sorry flank to juvenile hall, or wherever it is I take you, myself. Understand?"

She nodded solemnly, so I continued. "You do as I say, got it pipsqueak? When I say it, how I say it, where I say it. No hesitation, no forethought. When I give you a command, you do it. You are now my Watson. You are to observe, to assist via speculation and suggestion, or by any other means. But you're still a kid, and I'm NOT going to have your blood on my hooves."

She nodded once more. "Gotcha."

"Uh-uh," I shook my head, "'Gotcha' ain't good enough, pipsqueak. You gotta swear on it." I lifted my right-front hoof, the bottom of it facing upward, and spat on it, offering to her. "In exchange, I swear to treat you with the respect that you deserve and keep you in the loop on this case the entire time. Deal?"

She smirked, not even disturbed by my gesture and followed suit, slamming her wet hoof against mine. "Deal." She then took off to the skies and darted north. "C'mon," she shouted back, "I'll lead you to where it happened!"

I'd like to say, for my pride's sake, that I kept up with the Pegasus three-fourths my size that was most likely still in flight school. However, I am a terrible liar when I'm not on the job. So, I'll take the high road and simply say that I was very tired that day and that Granny Smith's pie made me oh-so drowsy, for I was completely out of breath when I caught up with her. She stopped above a plaza in northeastern Ponyville, down the street from City Hall. It usually boasted a small market, but it was entirely bare, save guards that were posted where three streets connected to the plaza. There were two guards for each street, every one of them holding a firm position at their posts.

I walked up to the two guarding the street we arrived through and bowed my head. I always pay my respects to the officers of the law, even if the ones in Ponyville weren't exactly hardened, troubled souls, like the ones in Manehattan or Fillydelphia. They nodded at me and shifted slightly to signify that I could go past them. Mary may be a politician, but what keeps her coming back to her office each year is that she never fails to keep a promise. I nodded in thanks and trotted onward, or at least tried to. Their front legs darted in front of me before pointing at Rainbow Dash accusingly, matching their disapproving glares. They settled their eyes on me, demanding an explanation. Or telling me to get her the hell out. That's what stinks about being silent. Communication errors all over the place.

Either way, I shrugged. "She's with me. My assistant. I need her for this case."

Their expressions didn't change, nor did the position of their front legs. I snarled, "Listen. I don't have time for your intimidation manure. I have a case to do and she helped me by telling me the location of the crime scene, which the Mayor so thoughtfully forgot to tell me. She's also going to serve as my thinking-buddy. Either the kid comes with, or neither of us goes in, got it? And you better decide fast, bud. The evidence here's literally fading away by the second, so I'm kind of in a hurry here. Now, either turn me away and close the case now, or let me in and do my DAMNED job."

Their posture didn't change. No way in hell would a couple of stout policeponies be scared of a scrawny PI like me. I don't qualify much in the intimidation department. Not unless I use magic, anyways. But I save chucking a lightning bolt at the sky for punks. Trying to pull that manure on them would be suicide. Although they obviously weren't scared, they did pick up on the conviction of my statement. They knew that I meant what I said, and their faces betrayed their looming stance. One of them sighed in frustration and nodded to the other guard. Finally, they stepped aside and let me through, though out of the corner of my eye, I could see them give the kid a dirty glance as she glided by.

I heard her wings quicken their flapping speed as she caught up to me. She landed on the ground and followed close behind me as I walked to the center of the plaza. "That was really cool of you. Thanks."

"Eh." I said. "I think I could've been a bit more intimidating. If there was another unicorn detective for them to call up, I'd have been bucked."

"I mean about letting me in. You could've just said I was some annoying kid or something and gone on without me, but you risked your job just to keep our promise. Just sayin' that's cool, is all."

"Don't flatter yourself, pipsqueak. Would've done that for anypony. See, I don't just toss out promises like candy. If I say I'll do something, I'll do it, and keeping you in the loop on this happens to be one of those things."

I heard an aggravated sigh. "You can't just take a compliment, can you?"

"Of course I can," I grinned, "it's just that it's a very boring way to respond to one."

After a few minutes of trotting, we arrived to the exact scene of the crime. It was at the northwestern corner of the plaza, near one of the streets that connect to it, and was right in front of a water fountain. An area with a radius of several feet was particularly dirtier and messier than the rest of the plaza. Assorted objects were still knocked over. Streetlights were still broken. Hoofprints were still visible on the ground. It was as if nothing had touched the entire scene. And amongst all of the chaos, right smack-dab in the middle of it, there were two outlines of sprawled, quadruped figures on the ground, drawn in clear, white chalk.

I stopped right outside of the "messy circle" and brooded over the scene, looking around for the little yellow tags left behind by forensics. As I expected, there were none. Those usually only came into equicide cases. And this was just a simple riot. In a town that's never had one before. During a time in which the princess hasn't made any laws or decrees that's made anypony angry or upset. Sure, why not?

The filly interrupted my thoughts. "Why hasn't anypony cleaned up the mess around here?"

She was about to walk onto the circle when I immediately stopped her by extending my front-right leg. "Forensics, young grasshopper." I turned to see her giving me an obtuse look, but whether it was because she never watched Kung Fu starring David Carrequine or if it was because she didn't know who forensics were, I didn't know.

I decided to explain the more relevant source of confusion. "Forensics are the ponies in charge of gathering evidence at a crime scene and giving it to the policeponies responsible for the case. A big pet peeve for them is stepping all over their crime scene or, even worse, cleaning it. It destroys hoofprints, hair and blood samples, and could lead to important articles of evidence getting shuffled around. And when you're piecing together a complex puzzle like them – and me – the place where everything's found is extremely important." I lowered my leg. "So let's keep our distance, alright? They tend to get really touchy about somepony stepping all over their scene."

She seemed to understand what I said well enough, and nodded. "Gotcha."

I nodded back. "Besides," I turned back to the scene and lowered my head, closing my eyes, "we're at a perfectly good distance for what I came here to do, anyhow."

"What're ya gonna do?"

"Shhhh," was all I could muster as a reply. I had already started the process of gathering all of my concentration and willpower. One by one, my senses focused less on my surroundings. The sound of a gushing stream of water, coming from the fountain, was slowly drowned out by silence. The mental image of the crime scene, the chaos punctuated with the clean chalk-marks, gradually faded to black. The feel of the moisture in the post-rain air, the lingering taste on my tongue of Apple Acre's Apple Pie, the smell of the calm, fragrant spring breeze rustling the plaza, all of these sensations within my environment dissipated entirely. In that nothingness, my mind was in its purest zenith. I had completed my meditation.

You see, when you perform a higher-end spell, you really have to FEEL the spell; you have to believe in it. You need to put into it your faith, your will to perform it, and all of the emotions that apply to the spell. Lower-end spells, like telekinesis, can simply be used with a basic desire to move something. You don't have to invest much else. However, when you're tracing magic to its source, after several hours of wear-and-tear? That was a spell's spell. And such a spell requires so much focus and will, even the slightest physical distraction could tamper, and most likely ruin, the attempt at performing the spell. And if I were to fail, considering the magnitude of this spell, it would literally blow up in my face. And trust me, for I speak with experience: magical explosions are much worse than normal ones.

Fortunately, my good ol' Watson had enough sense to respect my wishes, despite not getting any explanation whatsoever from me, and I had no problem placing all of my will into one neat little pile. It was time-consuming, sure, but it wasn't all that difficult. I then focused on extending all of that will outward. I imagined myself extending little magic-antennas, feeling around for a taste of magic leftovers from last night's ruckus.

I expected to find a small scrap of magic residue or, if there was no magic involved, nothing. I was so very wrong.

When one's body gets overloaded by magic, the sensation that occurs is hard to explain. It's like being a foal with asthma and suddenly getting tossed into a room full of thick, humid, stagnant air. There was just too much essence for my mind and body to take. My brain felt like it was getting slammed several times with a hammer, rhythmically experiencing a terribly painful pounding sensation about two times a second. Meanwhile, in the physical world, I opened my eyes to find myself on the ground, recoiling from the sheer pain. Every muscle in my body was tensed and my spine curled to place my whole body in the fetal position, shivering all the while. My teeth were so forcefully clenched that it took a decent amount of mental effort to make them stop.

Above me, the pipsqueak was staring down at me, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, completely unsure of what to do. "M-Mister Gumshoe! A-are you okay? Is there anything I can do?"

By the time she asked this, I was already getting myself together again. The muscles in my jaw, as well as everywhere else, began to unlock and relax. I took deep breaths, inhaling through my nostrils and exhaling through my mouth. My shivering began to lessen, as did the stabbing pain in my head. When I put enough of myself back together so that I could speak, I cleared my throat.

"Yeah." My voice came out surprisingly raspy. I probably shouted when the proverbial cannonball hit me. "Just… j-just give me a minute."

She simply nodded and walked over to a nearby bench to sit, making sure not to walk onto the crime-scene. I just sat there, partially recovering from the minor nervous breakdown I went through, and partially collecting my thoughts. This changed quite a few things, to be sure. Magic was absolutely involved, no doubt about it. The mage in question used a frenzy spell on the group of ponies that were in the square last night. It would take a lot of magic, but surely not THIS much. Whoever did this, they had raw power with a capital P. The nebula of pure magic was what I found around 17 hours after the riot. Imagine what I would've found an hour ago, or even sooner. I focused my mind on a much more pleasant subject.

Let's start with the pros of what's happened: I know that magic was involved. I know that my theory of a grizzled, old unicorn doing it is true as well. It had to be. No fledgling wizard, even a prodigy, could dish out that kind of magic without help. Even the possibility of a beginner prodigy getting a fluke was unlikely. The fact that the victims were so familiar with each other could only imply that the riot was meant specifically for them. And in order to be able to specifically target a group of people in particular, one would require concentration and finesse.

Which brings me to the cons: I would have to face a hardened battlemage unicorn… an equicidal, hardened battlemage unicorn. Now, I'm no pushover when it comes to magic. As I've said earlier, I've been studying magic since I was a foal, and have a solid 30 years' worth of coagulated knowledge under my belt. But for a wizard, 30 years is still a bit young and I had a long way to go before I'd call myself an expert on it. I've given myself the title "Journeyman". Not too snobby a title, but not too humble either. In any case, I'm pretty darned good at slinging spells. But, as it's been established, the fallout of this pony's spell put me in the fetal position. That scared me, truly it did. But, dammit all, I was the only pony that could do this. The policeponies around here were used to thefts and the occasional pony drinking a wee bit too much milk and going crazy out on the streets. They sure as hell weren't prepared for a sociopathic unicorn. I could call in more experienced policeponies, perhaps from Manehattan, or even a few elite guards from Canterlot. But that would take a bit of explanation and a few days of travel for the reinforcements to arrive. Ponyville didn't have that time as a luxury.

I sighed and began walking to the bench the pipsqueak was sitting on. Looks like I was on my own… kind of. I had a rambunctious Pegasus that didn't know the first thing about detecting and having normal-colored hair. And, really, who needs several score years of experience, hundreds of spells memorized, and wits and wisdom sharpened by age, when you have that?

"C'mon, pipsqueak," I called to her when I reached hailing distance, "we're heading to the library."

"Right!" She flew up from the bench and floated above and behind me as I walked out of the plaza. I gave the two policecolts departing nod before drifting back into thought, which was interrupted by a query form the pipsqueak, once we were out of the policecolts' earshot. "So, like… what happened back there! You looked like you had a heart attack or something!"

"Magic backlash." I replied. "Tried to track the spell to its source, get a feel on the unicorn's aura, his magical fingerprint, if you will. Unfortunately, the spell had way more oomph than I thought it did. Expected a small scrap of magic energies that I had to focus really hard in order to find. Instead, I ended up doing the magical equivalent of taking a deep breath in a room full of thick smoke. Not good for the mind, or the body."

"So, you almost… died?"

"Nah. Magic residue's never that powerful. I was pretty close to having my brain just snap from all the pressure though. Would've gone loony and never came back." I shivered at the thought. "If I had been there an hour earlier, I probably would have gone loony… It's odd. In a way, you saved me from going insane. Had I not wasted a good half-hour arguing with you and trying to make you go away, I probably wouldn't have been able to handle the amount of magic at the crime scene."

"Well, heh, I mean, c'mon now, it was just an accident. A, uh, a coincidence, ya know?" She stumbled with her words. I didn't have to look behind my shoulder to know that she was blushing at the accusation.

I snorted. "Kid. When you work in my profession for as long as I have, you begin to accept that there are no coincidences in life. Things happen for a reason. By the way," I stopped and turned to face her, "after all that's happened today, I still don't know your name. Mind if I ask, pipsqueak?"

"Oh! My bad, I totally forgot!" She scratched the back of her before placing her front hoof on her chest in a boastful manner. "Name's Rainbow Dash! Yes, that's right, the one and only Rainbow Dash!"

I rolled my eyes. Oh, the arrogance of a teenage Pegasus, how endless art thou? I decided to take the high road and not respond with a snarky comeback. "Rainbow Dash, huh? Well… thank you. And I'm sorry I tried to keep you out of this. You seem a level-headed sort, and it was wrong for me to assume that you're just a dumb kid right off the bat."

She shrugged. "Hey, no problem. In your defense, most kids are pretty stupid." She resumed her prideful pose. "Your's truly being an exception, of course."

"Of course." I drawled. "But listen to me. You need to know that this is much worse than I expected. Much, much worse. Whoever's done this is experienced. He knows what he's doing and he has a lot of raw magic in his system to back it up. To be honest… I… I'm pretty sure I won't beat him if I have to confront him."

"So," she replied instantly, "you're gonna need some serious back-up." She pointed at herself. "And I believe I am just the filly for the job. You distract him with your magic and stuff, and I fly up to him and – KAPOW! – I kick him in the face!"

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. It was because I realized that there wasn't any convincing her. Despite her age and demeanor, Dash wasn't just following me around for kicks. She was in this for an entirely more serious reason; more serious than mine, in fact. She was in this for revenge, for closure. Scooter and Lucy were apparently ponies that helped her all throughout her life, though exactly how, I can only guess. And then somepony came along and trampled them and, to make matters worse, they were dangerously close to getting away with it scot-free. Hell, they would have gotten away with it, had it not been for a nosy Mayor and an equally nosy detective unicorn.

I lifted my lower jaw back up and simply smiled. "Sounds like a plan to me." I turned and continued walking toward the library. "C'mon, pipsqueak! We still got a ways to go."

"Right behind ya!"

And with that, my partner and I proceeded to the library, completely aware of how in over our heads we were, but far too stubborn to care.