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Episode One: Time to Go

>Fish. Water. What a strange screensaver...
>You think about as you click the power button on the monitor.
>Turning off your office light and locking up, you can't help but shake off that... uneasy feeling you've had all week.
>Ever since the university made that wretched decision!
>Weeks of preparation, gone! Poof!
>But now, the hounds must be circling. Baying for blood.
>Your debts must be repaid. So you told them of something promising.
>A chance to make some serious money. Thousands, millions even!
>The city council voted for to the proposal but the college decided against it.
>All that preparation, all that effort. For nothing.
>And now, you're panicking.
>You've already planned your escape. Use this teaching conference in Whinnyapolis to get away from them for once and for all.
>Your wife? Huh, to hell with that bitch...
>Walking down the corridor to the parking lot, you look back over your shoulder. Was someone there?
>But all you see is your shadow stretching down the hallway.
>Turning around, you get the shock of your life.
"ARGH! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
>"By the Goddesses, Chalky! Are you alright?"
>It's just your secretary, Dew Drops.
"Oh sorry, it's just you, Dew. Sorry about that."
>"Are you okay, Chalky? You're jumpier than a house cat in heat."
>You smile and nod.
"I'm fine, thanks. I'm just worried about my wife. She gets a little lonely when I'm away for so long."
>She smiles appreciatively.
>"I'll check on her while you're gone. I'll see you in a week's time, Chalky."
"Yeah, you bet."
>You smile and hurriedly trot on.
>Walking outside, you tighten your scarf. It'll be another cold one tonight.
>There might be some snow as well. Those clouds are looking heavy.
>Walking over to your car, you pull out your keys and hear a voice call out your name.
>"Hey, Chalk Dust. Got a minute?"
"Hmm? Who are yo..."
>But all you got for a response was a stun prod to the stomach.
"UUUURRRRRGH!"
>You groan and get shoved into a car trunk.

>Slamming the lid on him, you quickly pick up the keys he dropped and throw them to your partner.
>"Thanks. Which one is his, again?"
"Err..."
>Your accomplice rolls his eyes.
>"Alright, I'll try unlocking it, it must be one of these ones."
>By pressing the 'unlock' button, you see a nearby brown station wagon blink its lights.
"Right, it's that one then."
>"Thanks, Captain Obvious. I'll take his and meet you at that parking garage on South 8th Street. Got it?"
>He orders and you give him a mocking salute.
"Jawohl, mein Herr."
>"Come on, stop joking, this is serious. South 8th, okay?"
"Yeah, I understand."
>You climb into the sedan with Mr Dust in the trunk and drive off. You see Arctic step into Dust's wagon and follow you out of the college parking lot.
>Driving along the city streets, you avoid most of the traffic by taking some of the back roads. You know Arctic is taking another route, in case you're being followed.
>Who by? You can never be too sure...
>You hear something banging. 
"So you've woken up eh?"
>You ask loudly to the rear of the car.
>Although he's muffled, you can still hear him.
>"Hey! Who are you?"
"Shush now, all will be explained, Mr Chalk Dust."
>"You... you know who I am?"
>You smile a little.
>'He doesn't know, does he?'
"Yes, our employers explained to us who you are. Now, shush!"
>"Aw heck." He curses, "Look, I can still fix this! Please! I need more time!"
>The poor man in the trunk pleads but it falls on deaf ears.
>The garage on South 8th Street is just another short and squat downtown parking lot you see in every city. This one was picked because it's unattended; it's got those automated pay barriers.
>Pulling in and slipping in some lose change, the barrier rises and you drive in.
>You reach the fourth floor, a quiet place to have a gentleman's discussion.
>You see your partner standing by the professor's wagon parked between the elevator and an empty spot.

>Pulling in the spot and putting on a white balaclava, you step out of the car and greet Arctic, who isn't wearing his.
"You're not wearing yours, Art! What if someone sees us?"
>He looks confused and asks.
>"It's eight at night, Ebbs, this'll be as quiet as it ever gets. Besides, I picked this spot because the cameras aren't looking here."
>You sigh and take it off.
>"Jeez, put it back on..."
>Arctic jokes as he shields his eyes.
"You're a real comedian. Come on, let's deal with him. Is it ready?"
>Arctic takes out the prod and turns it on.
>"As always, Ebony."
"Okay. On three."
>You say as you put the key into the trunk lid.
"Three!"
>Unlocking it, you swing it open and step out of the way as Arctic shoves the prod into the professor again, half in and half out of the trunk.
>He burbles something, slumps out and falls flat onto his face.
>"Ugh... that was... uncalled for..."
>He grunts as you lean down and roughly grab his jacket lapels.
>You sharply bring him up and shove him onto the car.
>"Oh jeez, that hurt..."
>He mumbles and starts to slump again.
>Arctic gives him a sharp slap to wake him up.
"Have we got your attention now?"
>You sharply ask him.
"Or does my friend here have to give you another buzz?"
>He blinks quickly and wakes up.
>"Look, I know this is about the deal, okay? Look, I'll get the University to change the decision..."
>Arctic looks grumpy and turns to you.
"Now, Mr Dust, you are right. This is about the property deal that has now gone south. Our employers are very unhappy with you. You said this deal would be approved. But it isn't."
>You cock your head to a side as Chalk Dust nervously chuckles.
>"I can fix it, I need more time. I know who persuaded the others. Maybe you can talk to him. It was that Strange End..."
>He splutters out so Arctic slaps him again.
"Excuses, excuses. Nothing but excuses."

>You reach into your coat pocket and pull out a knife.
>"Oh Jeez! Please! No!"
>He exclaims as Arctic clicks open the trunk again.
"Quit your crying. You're a grown-ass man! Take off your coat!"
>He does as he's told.
>"Man, that's a nice coat. Where did you get it from?"
>Arctic quires as he picks it up off the floor.
>"It... it's a Bernini. I... I... I bought in Canterlot, you know that big department store, Burridges?"
>He nervously stutters as you impatiently look at Arctic, putting it on.
>"Shame to let this go to waste."
>Arctic approves as he buttons it up.
"Are you finished playing dress-up? We've still got things to do."
>You grouse on as you slash up Chalk's shirt, taking out the buttons.
>"Dah! What are you doing! Please! I can get everything..."
>He begs but you sigh loudly.
"Look, the time's been and gone. It's not about the money. It's about our long-term investment in you. You underperformed, our employers are angry and they demand a solution. We ain't talking about money on the table. "
>"No..."
>He cries as his trousers drop to the floor.
>Arctic quickly preps the prod and forcefully jabs it into Chalk's chest, causing him to fall into the trunk again.
>Yanking off the man's trousers, you pat it down for a wallet or anything else identifiable.
>You pick the shirt up and stuff them both into a nearby bin as Arctic grabs his legs and shoves him to the trunk and closes the lid.
>"C'mon, the weather is getting worse. It's already snowing."
>Arctic points outside as he throws the keys away.
>You both climb into the car and buckle up.
>Turning it over, you quickly turn the heaters on full blast.
"Did you really want his coat?"
> You enquire.
>"Yeah, I think it looks fashionable."
>Driving through the garage, you nod in agreement.
"Right, we'll take him out of town and to Lake Everfree. Did you leave the corkscrew there?"
>"Did that earlier, Ebbs."
"Just making sure, Art."
>You assure him as he lights up a smoke.

- Several hours later -

>"So where's Pancake's House then?"
"What?"
>"Pancakes. I want some pancakes."
>You look over to his side, hidden by a blue fog of smoke.
"We just ate. And you had pancakes then too. Besides, I'm more in a steak and a drink mood now."
>You look at the dashboard clock, quarter-past 11.
>It's snowing something hard now and you've slowed way down, well below the speed limit.
>Besides, you don't want to attract any undue attention.
>You passed through Blackbottoms not so long back and stopped there for a bite to eat at that 24-hour waffle place.
>Now back on the open road, you're surely on the right way to Coltram, right?
>You lean over to the radio and start playing through the stations.
>"Hey, I was listening to that!"
>Arctic exclaims as he tries to slap away your hands.
"Hey! This is my car so my radio!"
>You lean over again and play with it some more.
>The car swerves a little on the snowy road.
>As you both play about with the radio, neither of you see the heard of deer galloping across the road.
>As you look in front, you see one.
"Shit!"
>Performing evasive actions, you slam onto the brakes but it's too late.
>You crash into a deer and as it bounces off the bonnet, the car skids off the road, crash through a small fence and stop in a snow drift.
>You bang your head on the steering wheel and hear a thud as Arctic cracks his head on the dashboard.
>In a haze, you think you hear the trunk lid being banged on and cracks open. And then hurried footsteps.
>'Aww heck, he's escaping.'
>Looking up, you see Chalk Dust in the headlights, charging through the snow in nothing more than his underwear and boots into the nearby woods.
>Getting out of the car, you see Arctic in the passenger seat out for the count.
>You look left. Nothing.
>You look right. Nothing.
>You sprint after him but end up slipping in the snow a couple times.
>You follow his footsteps, into the woods.

>In the woods, all is quiet. Some animals whoop and holler but you quietly crunch the snow.
>You pull out the gun as you continue tracking Chalk's trails.
>They lead to around some dead trees and stumps.
>You look around, checking your flank to make sure he isn't planning some sneaky attack with a tree branch.
>But there he is. A few hundred feet in front of you, hiding behind a dead tree.
>Swirls of breath pant from the side of it.
>'Eureka..."
>As quietly as you can, you sneakily catch up to him, hoping he doesn't notice you.
>And he doesn't. As you draw closer to your prey, you hear his panicky breaths and slight mutterings.
>At the last minute, as you point your silenced gun at his head, he turns around and sees death.
"Time to make that ugly face a little prettier."
>Squeezing the trigger and with a muffled "whoosh", Professor Chalk Dust is no more.
>Blood stains the snow.
"Oh dear, I've made quite the mess."
>You say to yourself as you tuck the gun away and walk off, trudging through the storm.
>Reaching the car, you plod up and see poor Arctic wincing and rubbing his head.
"You okay, Art?"
>"Not really."
>He groans.
"Alright. Answer these questions. Who are you?"
>You quiz him on as he grunts.
>"Arctic Ivory."
"Okay. Who am I?"
>"Ebony Spectre."
"Correct. Where are you?"
>"Sat in a car, off the road, nearby... actually, where are we?
>He blurts as he tries to get out of the car.
>You give him a hand and answer his question.
"Couple miles from Coltram. C'mon, I know a bar that open 24/7."
>"Sounds like my kind of place. Where's Chalky?"
"He's been dealt with."
>You bluntly say with Arctic nodding.
>"That's good. No need to worry." He says as the pair of you start walking in the snowstorm, "you know, while I was out, I had the weirdest dream..."
>He wonders on as you break in.
"Yeah-uh, you can tell me all about it when we reach that bar and have some drinks in our bellies."

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Episode Two: Wrong Time, Wrong Place

>In the dawn's cold light, a solitary car drives up the lonely road.
>The car speeds through the mist and low cloud.
>You were tempted to put on the lights on but you wasn't in any rush.
>The call-out wasn't for anything serious or life-threatening anyway.
>One of the state troopers called it in a couple of hours ago.
>He spotted a car, partially buried by last night's snow-storm, off the road.
>He checked it out and found no-one in it.
>His superiors said they'd pass it onto the local sheriffs and he was to get on with his shift.
>'Lucky devil. We get to deal with the trooper's leftovers while they swan about their new cruisers.'
>You think bitterly as your prowler crunches through the gears.
>Through the mist, you spot some shapes and a figure.
>You indicate off the road and onto the shoulder, you pull up behind a familiar blue patrol car.
>And the figure stood next to it, waving enthusiastically with something in the hand.
>You step out and greet your fellow deputy.
"Morning, Fleetfoot. Burr. Another cold'un, today, isn't it? Whatcha got there?"
>You say as you slip on your gloves.
>"Heya, Lightning. Got you this pick-me-up. Thought you might need it."
>You're Deputy Lightning Dust and you take the coffee and greedily sup it.
>"Just how you like it. Double cream. Quadruple sugar."
>You smile as you walk onto the snowy drift and look around the car, now with some of the snow cleared off it.
>The front looks damaged; caved -in bonnet, smashed headlights and a dented grille.
>"Looks like our driver hit something. Probably a deer.
"Hmm, maybe you're right. Look!"
>You point down the road, to another section of broken fence.
>The two of you walk over and see a lump in the snow.

>Handing the coffee to Fleetfoot, you dust off some of the snow and you see a doe's head; staring blankly at the sky.
"Poor thing. The car must have slammed into it and sent both off the road.
>Walking back to the car, Fleetfoot asks a simple question.
>"So where's the driver then?"
>You look into the car and see some blood on both the steering wheel and on the passenger-side dashboard.
"Looks like there were two of them. See those bloody smudges?"
>She nods.
>"Looks they're injured then. I'll notify the hospital then, to look out for anyone with head-injuries."
"Why?"
>You frown on but Fleetfoot looks confused.
>"Did no-one say, Lightning? The car's stolen. I ran the tags and it's been reported stolen in Oxbridge last night."
"News to me. So why is it out here then? Oxbridge is what? 50, 60 miles from Coltram?"
>You ask as you reach for the trunk release.
>It pops open, shaking off the snow.
>You take your coffee from your deputy and sip on it.
>You look into it and see nothing at all.
>"Lightning! Look at these!"
>You quickly make your way to her as she eagerly points to indentations in the snow. Leading into the woods.
"Animal tracks. So what?"
>You shrug but Fleetfoot continues unabashed.
>"What animal wears size 9s, Lightning? They're boot prints. The snow hasn't buried them. And by the looks of things, he was a big guy."
"Actually..."
>You ponder on as you squat down and sip again.
"Looks like his friend went with him. These ones look a little bigger. C'mon."
>As the sun tries to break through the cloud, both you and Fleetfoot follow the steps.
"So are you and Stinger getting along then?"
>You ask her as she sips her own coffee.
>"Mmm. Getting along good. He's got some new exotic cookery books so he's trying his hand at that. We're eating delicacies of the world."

"Variety. Some people like that."
>You say.
>"He put a soufflé on the table last night. Perfectly good casserole. Then lit it on fire with a kitchen match. Like what's the point?"
>Fleetfoot laughs.
>"Oh, that reminds me, you're invited for dinner tomorrow night if you want."
"Sorry I can't, Fleet. It's my book club that night."
>"Why do you go down to Canterlot for a book club? Seems like a heck of a long journey for a simple social club."
>She observes as you two follow the trails through some dead trees.
"Because I've got a life, with friends in the big city."
>She snorts at your flippancy.
>"Well, if your promotion goes through, you'll never leave. Did Firefly say anything before he left?"
>You shake your head.
"He said I'll find out tomorrow or Tuesday. Heh, Undersheriff Lightning Dust. It has a ring to it, doesn't it?"
>You boast as you check your sides for anything.
>"Well, I know why you're getting the promotion. I can't believe I missed the deer off the side there."
"Don't take it hard."
>You comfort her as you struggle over the lumps and bumps in the snow.
"Been doing this a long time now..."
>"Err... Lightning?"
>Fleetfoot asks as she points in front of you.
"What?"
>You follow her finger and see it too.
>By a tree stump lays a dead body.
>You quickly sprint over with poor Fleetfoot almost tripping up and spilling her drink as she keeps up.
>"Ahh, darn it!"
>She curses.
>You put yours on the stump as you investigate the body.
>The poor fella has been shot through the head, that's for sure. Frozen blood everywhere.
>You inspect the body and see another bullet wound through his hand.
"Defensive wound, maybe?"
>You hold your hand up to your head, like you're trying to protect it.
>"I guess so."
>Fleet says as she catches up.
>"Why is he naked?"
"The hell do I know? Let's ask him, excuse me sir?"

>You mock as Fleetfoot deadpans.
>"You know what I mean, Lightning. He's naked in zero degree weather."
"Maybe this was an execution. Or he was taken to be executed. Maybe he's wearing his boxers so he can't be identified."
>"The car crashes, though. He escapes, our driver follows him and finishes him off here... ooh..."
>Fleetfoot winces and bends over.
"You okay there? You find something?"
>You inquire as you check his boots. Eris brand, size 10.
>"No, I just think I'm gonna barf."
"Jesus, Fleet. Be more professional."
>You jeer as she takes some deep breaths.
>"Well, that passed."
"Yeah?"
>"Yeah, now I'm hungry."
>She says as she stands upright.
>"What now, you think?"
>You stand up and brush the snow off your khaki pants.
"Go back to the cars and call out the team. And get that state trooper back here as well. See if he can remember anything. What's he called?"
>She takes her notebook out.
>"Err... Trooper Brisk Bronco."
>You nod and grab your coffee. You quickly start to walk back through the woods. After a couple of minutes, you say to Fleetfoot.
"When I next come over to dinner, I'll get you a suit of armor."
>Fleetfoot smirks as the pair of you reach the road and your crusiers.
>She goes off to her own car as you stick around the stolen vehicle.
>Looking inside again, you note the blood stains but think on what you found out the woods.
>'The guy had a bullet hole in his head but I don't think he had any other injuries.'
>You stroke your chin as you look around inside.
>Nothing else in the car, really. Some old cassette tapes, a road atlas for the state, a bottle of de-icer and an ice scrapper...
>'Hang on, you'd put those in the trunk...'
>You check out the open trunk again and properly examine it. The lid has scratch marks, like someone's been trying to get out.
>'Our woodsman was in the trunk. And there were two of them in the car.'

-A little while earlier in Coltram-

"Oh... What a day..."
>You say to yourself, sat in a hospital waiting room.
>Turns out his injuries were a little worse than first expected.
>Arctic was complaining of a bad headache walking to Coltram and almost passed out so you decided to take him to the hopsital.
>He said no hospitals, just in case someone discovers the car.
>So you said you knew a discreet free clinic in the town.
>He had a bad concussion and needed stitches. Simply because he unfortunately slipped on a patch of ice as you left a bar.
>But the good doctor wanted to examine you as well.
>You protested. You were feeling fine, you unfortunately walked into a door.
>So he nodded and passed you 10mgs of Valium and told you to take it easy.
>Drinking some soda, you pick up one of those old magazines waiting rooms always seem to have.
>Groaning dismissively, you throw it back.
>As the PA system waffles on in the background, a man walking into the waiting room and sits one seat over from you.
>He's an strange looking man; he's a sickly off-white man but with a neat side-parted haircut and a stubbley beard. Like he hasn't shaved for several days.
>He picks up a countrylife magazine and reads it.
>Walking to the door, you impatiently ask the nurse sat at the desk.
"Excuse me, nurse. But how much longer will my friend be? We're suppose be in Canterlot by breakfast time today."
>She gives you an exhausted smile and says.
>"He shouldn't be much longer sir, please be calm."
"Can you find out?"
>Another smile.
>"I'll ask the doctor then."
>She walks off but you scowl and sit back down.
>Sipping the drink again, the man asks you a question.
>"Can I have a drink, please?"
"Hmm?"
>You look to him and see him itching his head and reading the magazine.
>"I outta change for the machine there, friend, so I'm just wondering..."

"Sure, sure. Take the whole can and drink it with a straw."
>You flippantly say as you pass it to him.
>He rather noisily gulps it down. Once he's finished, he puts the can onto the table.
>"Obligated, friend."
>He smiles, slips off his glasses and rubs his forehead.
>You simply wave him off and pick up that same magazine you've been trying to read for the past half-hour.
>"So what happened to your friend?"
"Hmm? Oh, errm... he slipped on some ice. You know, by the fire station? Where they hose down the trucks?"
>"Yeah, slippy as heck during the winter. "
>He comments on as he closes the his magazine.
>"Here's to a little faith, friend."
"Yeah, yeah."
>You quickly say, to shut him up.
>"Hear me out, friend. Forgive me if this sounds a little paranoid."
>You turn to see him staring directly at you. He has a pair of the most vibrant ruby red eyes you've ever seen. You can't really tear yourself from them...
"Errm... okay..."
>You mutter.
>He grins slightly.
>"I have a friend with a problem. I know if you ask the right people at the right places, you can get almost anything. But he doesn't, you get me?"
>He asks.
"Makes sense, I suppose."
>"Making sense. Where's the fun in that?"
>He rhetorically asks and sighs.
>"Like I said, my friend has a problem but I want to help him. Some girls embarrassed him and he got hurt. Broke his nose even. And I says to him, you know what I says to him?"
"I don't..."
>"I says 'If these teenagers break your nose in public then they would break your spine. So I would break their noses.' I hate it when people embarrass my friends, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yeah..."
>You simply nod.
>"I know you and your friend are specialists. We have mutual friends and I'll leave it at that. So I'm wondering if you can do some private work, yeah?"
"Yeah..."

>"Now, my friend feels mighty embarrassed about it all. Doesn't wanna make a fuss. But if I was in his position, I would have killed those teenagers. I would make a fuss, you see?"
>You raise an eyebrow as he just stares at you.
"So what do you want... doing?"
>"To send a message. Well, heck even, to dispose of them even. I know where one girl can be found.
"Well... here's the thing..."
>"No, this is the thing." He interjects as his  stares deeply into yours, "they said rude things and implied ruder things and it really annoyed me. They come across to me as people who shouldn't be drawing breath."
>You fidget in your seat and scratch your hair.
"Okay... okay..."
>You stammer out, realizing where this conversation is going so you try to delay it.
"So what can we do about it? In all fairness, if you're so sure about it, why don't go 'teach them a lesson?' Hmm?"
>You taunt him but he appears unfazed.
>"Like I said, turn any corner and you can get almost anything you want."
>He stares at you for the longest time before saying.
>"So, do you want to kill them?"
>You try to stare him down but he doesn't flinch at all. He just gazes at you, without blinking even, with those deep... eyes...
>All thoughts drain out of your head, like he's pulled out the sink-plug, until one is left.
>'...maybe... doing this isn't a bad idea after all...'
"Okay then..."
>You mumble again and he smiles slightly.
>"I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking, friend."
>He hands you an envelope from his jacket.
>"Some important details you'll need. If you want, I'll chat to your friend."
"Yeah..."
>You blankly agree as he gets up and walks off.
>"Thanks for your help. I'll talk to our mutual friend, I bet he'll be fine with the situation. You might wanna read those as soon as."
"Yeah..."
>He leaves and you open the envelope and read the name of the paper out loud.
"Gloriosa Daisy..."

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