Author's Note
This is the story of a man named Stanley.
The Faithful Knight
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Stanley yawned, not bothering to stifle the loud exhale as he swerved down a curve on the highway. The glint of green signs shimmering in the headlights flickered past as he picked up speed, the pouring rain drumming a heavy beat on his old tan Saturn.
It was a more comforting noise than that of the radio static. He tiredly rubbed his eyes with his forefingers, and ran a hand through his sandy hair. It did nothing to distract him from the aching tiredness that seemed to drag him down, though.
With the beginning of another yawn, Stanley sped over a large puddle spreading into the center of the road, a gift left behind by the growing rainstorm.
“Just ‘nother forty days and nights of this,” he mumbled jokingly to himself, rapping his knuckles on the faux leather steering wheel to keep himself awake. Blinking his wide brown eyes furiously, Stanley furrowed his brow and frowned hard, as if the facial actions could help him stay awake longer. He silently cursed himself for his sleep deprivation, and looked forward only to more insomnia when the cell phone in his pocket began vibrating loudly.
Stanley fumbled with it for a moment, unconsciously slowing down as he took another turn down the country lane, the wide fields around him flattened by pouring water. Blearily, he recognized the number and stuffed the cold phone to his ear, groping for the right buttons.
“What?” he said crankily into the receiver, his voice too loud. “Sean? What is it? What, what? Just hurry up, I don’t have all night.”
“Dude, chill,” he heard on the opposite end a little faintly, before realizing that he was holding the phone upside down. Swearing quietly, he struggled to tip it around without swerving off the road.
“Sean, I already told you,” Stanley tried not to yawn again. “I can’t go with you, man. Not tonight. I need sleep, uh… pullin’ a double tomorrow, shit –”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Sean’s course voice on the other end cutting him off. “Excuses, excuses. You just hate clubbing, admit it. That’s not what I called for, chill.”
A couple of heavy bolts of lightning streaked through the sky, forking into luminescent spears as they momentarily purged the clouds of darkness.
“Then spit it out already!” he grumbled, readjusting his grip on the wheel. It was getting more difficult to see out of the windshield through the rain, and the windshield wipers were doing all they could against the forces of nature. Still, he was tempted to simply pull over and wait until the storm had passed; at least it would get him a little time to sleep.
Or in all likelihood, stare at the velvety ceiling above him as he bitterly wished that he could fall asleep.
“Christ, who butt-fucked you with a pinecone today?” he could almost hear Sean grinning. “I was going to tell you that you left your wallet on your desk, but no~o.”
Stanley swore loudly again, cringing.
“Hang on, what were you doing at my desk?” he frowned again, becoming a little more alert.
“Spankin’ it to pictures of your girlfriend, like I always do,” Sean replied nonchalantly. “Duh.”
Stanley occasionally regretted assisting in getting Sean the janitor’s position at the small firm that he worked at; his friend from high school had a warped sense of humor.
“Unlock the doors for me?” Stanley groaned, looking for a spot to turn around, not looking forward to the long commute back. Another massive peal of lightning flared through the sky, striking the road ahead of him. This one, however, was so bright that he could have sworn that it was green, and the light burned into his eyes. It illuminated the entire cabin, and he jumped from the surprise.
“Pfft, ‘course, man,” Sean assured him. “Just hurry up, I don’t have all night.”
“Har de har,” he mumbled, his skin still prickling. “Hilar-”
Stanley’s voice faltered as he slammed on the brakes, panic overriding his senses as the shadowy figure rose before his car. He must have hit the brakes too late, because he watched what he vaguely guessed was an animal vanish beneath the hood of his car.
“Dammit!” he shouted, throwing the car into a parked position.
“Dude, it’s just a wallet,” Stanley heard Sean faintly. “If you’re that messed up about it, I could just drive out there, dog. It’s no biggie.”
“I’ve got to let you go,” Stanley breathed, pulling his jacket a little tighter to inspect the damage. “I think I hit a damned deer.”
“What, agai-?”
The beep of the phone as it was tossed onto the dashboard blared loudly, and Stanley angrily yanked the plastic hood over his head before slipping out of the car. Thankfully, the road seemed to be deserted; knowing his luck, someone would probably drive right into him in this kind of rain.
Just as he exited the vehicle, the freezing rain seemed to come down just a little bit harder than it had before, as if the universe itself were trying to spite him.
Viciously stomping through a puddle, Stanley huddled his thin clothes together and stepped around the front of the car, inspecting for the missing deer.
And then, Stanley received what was possibly the biggest shock of his life.
Stanley found the ‘damned deer’.
Tucked neatly beneath the car was a slim, black figure, and it was easy to see why he confused it for a deer; it closely resembled one. However, it was obviously alien in nature, as it had a pair of wet, svelte and insectile wings tucked tightly to its black sides. One of the wings was crumpled beneath it, along with one of its hooves.
The thing also seemed to be absolutely covered in holes, and not even bleeding from any of them. Stanley actually had to do a double take – and then a double double take, the confusion and shock growing. He could see through the holes…
It even appeared to have a jagged, upwardly curving horn attached to its head, reaching upward through damp seaweed colored mane. Another small growth atop its head seemed to be in the shape of a little black crown, strangely. Stanley couldn’t even feel the icy water penetrating his slacks as he knelt on the ground by this point.
And it’s face, though.
It’s face.
It was deeply disturbing, seeing so human an expression on the creature’s face; one that was easily recognized. Stanley could tell that, even if he weren’t kneeling before it. It looked at him with an expression of both exhaustion and pain.
The long, twitching lashes as the creature’s vibrantly green eyes met his own for a single moment fluttered down eventually, and it passed out. The thing’s head hit the soaked pavement with a wet splat, unable to put forth the effort to continue straining and keeping its – no, her – head off the ground.
For the longest time, Stanley simply stared at the thing.
Hands on his legs as he knelt, shaking in the cold downpour. Just as the creature before him was, coincidentally. What he needed to do was pull himself up, dig through his car, and call the police. He needed to call a magazine, a television company, something. Stanley was looking at an alien, for god’s sake. This was the kind of thing that someone was remembered forever for. He could make quite the fortune for this happenstance, especially since it looked to still be alive, even if only barely.
It was.
It was only barely alive.
And shivering. Cold. Battered.
Alone.
And the look of agony, of pain it had given him, hadn’t it seemed to be tinged with sorrow–
“Goddammit,” Stanley huffed as his dreams of fame and fortune were tossed away, his cursing muffled by the rain as he began to help the wounded changeling from beneath his car.
0-0-0-0-0
0-0-0-0-0
Stanley stared at the battered creature as it lay weakly on his couch.
Stanley considered his home a rather nice one.
It was a cozy, one bedroom house with all of his necessities covered. Brick, with stone inlay and a uniquely designed thatched roof. Stanley had poured quite a bit into his home, although a number of other things had suffered for it; it was something that he was willing to live with, though. Everything had a tradeoff.
Stanley was also mildly frustrated that the insectile creature was positively dripping all over his new couch. He said nothing, however, only busying himself with a towel to dry himself off – and the entire time, the damp changeling watched him closely.
“… What?” he asked eventually, wiping the rain from his hair and face. “You just going to stare at me? Cut that out, it’s creepy.”
Instead of answering, the four legged ‘alien’ glared hard at the towel he held limply in one hand for a long moment. After a few seconds, a glimmering spark of vibrant green zipped over the tip of her jagged horn, and Stanley watched with a sizeable amount of surprise as the towel in his hand was roughly jerked through the air and into her open hooves.
He couldn’t quite tell, but he could have sworn that the thing was giving him a look of smug satisfaction.
“… Okay. O-kay,” Stanley ran a hand through his hair, the sound of rain beating on the roof filling his ears as it picked up strength again. “So, the unicorn alien has telekinesis. Okay.”
“E sola, nomo sibala ti noka dey?” she turned sharply to him, wincing when her one broken leg and crumpled wing shifted.
“Shhhhit, that is not English,” he let out a long breath, thinking heavily. “I mean, obviously it’s not English, you can’t even tell what I’m saying.”
“E sola, bakrasa shak no ti, tzun taka! E sola, e sola!”
Stanley couldn’t help but stare at the creature in dim surprise, vainly attempting to decipher its odd language. During her shouts, she occasionally switched between what sounded like odd pops and whistles, and a couple of whinnies.
“Yeah, great,” he interrupted the furious changeling after a little while, placing a finger into the air. She seemed to catch his meaning, and fell silent momentarily – still just as enraged, but silent. “Say, it’s kind of late. Or, early, maybe,” Stanley glanced at the watch on his wrist for a bare second before immediately forgetting the time. “Tell you what. Hold that thought, I’m gonna go get some coffee, Vicodin, and a shit ton of vodka. Don’t run off.”
Even though she didn’t seem to be speaking English, Stanley could have also sworn that she understood that he had just poked fun at her. Her glare was nearly burning a hole in his back as he walked away.
Queen Chrysalis sat in silent fury for the longest time while the two legged buffoon bumbled noisily about, glass tinkling loudly together for a while as he busied himself.
After a while, Stanley finally returned and dropped into the small armchair across from the couch. He clinked a couple of mugs of coffee down on the small coffee table between them, which the changeling only stared at.
“Right,” Stanley rubbed his temples for a little bit. “So, just going over this, because the Vicodin isn’t kicking in yet. Fucked up body parts, might have been my bad…” he actually looked a little guilty for a moment before shaking his head. “Speaking what sounds like a cross between bad Spanish and… Greek, maybe?”
The creature said nothing.
“Right,” he continued, taking a heavy swig of his ‘coffee’, which probably contained more alcohol than it did anything else. “Right, and if I call the cops, shit’s going to go downhill really damned quickly.”
Stanley leaned forward, clapping his hands together. The changeling neither jumped nor so much as blinked, her steely emerald gaze locked firmly onto him.
“So,” Stanley ruffled his hair in tired agitation. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
To be fair, it was a very good question.
For nearly a full thirty seconds, they stared at one another without moving. Eventually, the changeling slowly raised a single hoof, inspecting it closely.
“E manu ti noki lo sayaméne, ti e sola?” she asked in what Stanley guessed was supposed to be a sly tone, to which he only pointed at his ear.
“It’s all Greek to me,” he shrugged. “For all I know, you could be insulting my mother right now.”
“Krak-ta lo mayeh, soh na!” the creature bellowed angrily, giving a surprisingly human expression of rage.
“Joke’s on you, bitch,” Stanley snickered, leaning back and chugging his drink again. “My mom’s deader’n a fucking doornail.”
He was halfway through his next swig when a bolt of fiery green pain speared him directly in the chest.
Stanley’s cup shattered when it fell to the floor, splattering everywhere. His throat burned as he coughed and wheezed frantically, slapping desperately at the agonizing hole in his chest that wasn’t there. Upon closer inspection, a hole had indeed been singed through his shirt – on both sides. However, his flesh appeared to be thankfully unburned, which baffled him more and more as the pain gradually dwindled.
He glared angrily at the smug creature sitting before him, who casually inspected her injured insectile wing for a couple of seconds.
“What in the fucking flying fuck just happened?” he spluttered and croaked, coffee dripping down his chin.
“You certainly aren’t very quick on the uptake, are you, vulgar beast?”
Stanley gawked at the creature, hardly noticing when his jaw dropped slightly. Her voice seemed to have undergone a drastic change – and not just because she had apparently switched to fluent English. She spoke with a haunting, nearly echoing and melodic tone. It was almost hypnotizing, and Stanley didn’t like it in the slightest.
“… Okay,” he shrugged again, wiping his face violently. “Okay. This is what I get for mixing drugs and alcohol, not gonna do that again. Okay.” Stanley repeated himself as he fingered the spot on his chest where he swore that a hole should be, shakily feeling nothing but exposed skin.
“If you are quite finished ogling yourself,” the changeling spoke again. “Rise, servant.”
Immediately, Stanley felt his legs yanked upward by an invisible force as he was involuntarily pulled to his feet. He did so with a great amount of surprise, and an even larger amount of swearing.
“Silence!” she barked, and Stanley’s jaw clamped shut. Although he didn’t show it, Stanley was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and for a good reason. “Kneel, servant.”
Again, Stanley was forced to watch as his knees immediately buckled beneath him and he dropped to a kneeling position before the changeling, his mind racing fast.
“My servant,” the changeling hummed, and again Stanley was reminded of an insect’s buzzing wings. “You shall keep a civilized tongue in the presence of royalty… or you shall have no tongue. Have I made myself clear?”
Terrified that the thing would telekinetically rip out his tongue should he fail to comply, and sorely regretting not backing up and running over her again, Stanley nodded violently.
“Very good,” she purred. “Rise, servant. Rise, and speak your name and rank.”
“Arnold Schwarzenegger, Terminator Tee – eight hundred.”
She unblinkingly replied “If you lie to me again, I will command you to pull off your own ears. Slowly.”
Stanley gulped audibly, straining vainly against invisible bonds that held him in place. Obviously, brute force wasn’t going to work, and he paused after the fourth failed attempt and tried to coerce his panic addled brain into discovering a way out of the situation.
“My name’s Stan,” he said eventually. “Stanley McDonald. Not the clown.”
“… Very good, ‘not the clown’,” the changeling said with a hint of satisfaction that he was at least somewhat complying. “You may refer to me as Queen Chrysalis, empress of changelings and future ruler of all of Equestria.”
“Bet that sounds stupid on a resume.”
“What was that?” Chrysalis’s head snapped toward him.
“Nothing,” Stanley said quickly as the undetectable grasp around him was slowly loosened, allowing him to reclaim his (now damp) seat properly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Queenie, I think I just shit myself.”
Chrysalis frowned at his words, and went back to inspecting her broken wing and hind leg. Stanley probably would have felt a hint of remorse for her if she hadn’t just magically speared him and forced him into servitude. At the time, he was actually hoping that it caused her a great deal of pain, which it seemed to.
“… Well?” Chrysalis snapped eventually. “Don’t just sit there, fool! Your queen requires healing. Get to it.”
Understandably, Stanley gaped at her in mild confusion.
“Uh…” he stuttered at last. “Well… I-I’ve got a first aid kit, uh… in the bathroom.”
“Then obtain the medical devices. Now,” she snapped, as if he were being stupid on purpose. If anything, Stanley was more in a state of shock than anything else. Again, just as before, he felt his limbs jerkily yanking him toward the bathroom down the hall. Stanley silently snapped the bathroom door shut behind him, slowly but steadily falling limp against the door and sinking to the floor.
He ran his hands over his face and the hole in his shirt a couple of times, and shook his head forcefully enough to make him dizzy.
“Right,” Stanley mumbled bitterly through his fingers. “Should have called the cops.”
The longer he sat in place, the longer a stinging sensation began to rise in the spot where the emerald spear had jabbed him – eventually, it developed from an agitating stinging to a painful burn, like a hot poker were being placed against his chest. When slapping it angrily did nothing, he scrambled to his feet as panic began to overtake him again.
“Cease your dilly dallying!”
“Christ!” he yelped as the pain faded, the watchful glare of Queen Chrysalis inside his bathroom mirror where his own reflection should be.
“Did I not command you to move quickly?” the warped reflection demanded, leaving Stanley standing rather dumbstruck.
“Not-not that I remember,” Stanley stuttered while his hand went protectively back over the spot on his chest, and the changeling narrowed her eyes.
“Then move faster, idiot. This pain is horrendous. Now, stop touching yourself and hurry up in there!”
Stanley only bit his tongue and nodded furiously, yanking open the medicine cabinet and turning the mirror away from him. He fumbled around for a bit in a twitchy anxiety, dropping bottles of pills and ointments into the sink as he snagged the first aid kit and dragged himself back to his new ‘queen’.
Stanley deliberately slowly lowered himself next to the sofa where the changeling sat, gradually picking open the plastic box for the first aid kit.
“… So,” he asked conversationally as he tried not to look at her angry glare. “… Alien powers can make towels fly, but you can’t fix busted bones?”
Which, now that he stared at her leg, made him wonder if she even had any bones to break.
She only stared at him hard, frowning.
“My formidable strength is vastly dampened in this… hellhole,” Chrysalis spat as he attempted to forge a makeshift splint with some of the items in the kit, and failing miserably. “If I had any idea that the magical hoofhold this dank pit failed to provide, I would not have given this filthy hovel a second glance.”
“Okay,” Stanley stopped suddenly, angrily resisting the urge to poke her hard in the leg. “Okay, lady. Firstly, don’t talk shit about my house! Secondly, magic? What-?”
He would have continued angrily ranting; Stanley really would have liked to, as it almost distracted him from what was really happening. Instead, however, he found himself unable to speak, as his tongue was no longer in his mouth.
He blubbered incomprehensibly and his eyes widened when his own tongue firmly latched itself to his upper lip, leaving Stanley blowing unpleasantly violent raspberries.
Chrysalis deadpanned at his display in mild disgust.
“Cease your putrid nonsense,” she demanded, glowering at him. Stanley eventually felt his tongue fall, though he had long since lost feeling in it. He rubbed his sore jaw miserably with one hand, rifling absentmindedly through the first aid kit with the other. He wasn’t even looking for anything, Stanley just wanted a distraction from the crazy changeling.
“… Thank you.”
He blinked, unconsciously freezing.
“Uh, what?” Stanley gawked at her, bandaging tape hanging limp in one hand.
“Explain to me how your war machine works,” Chrysalis inspected the bottom of her hoof again. When Stanley only balked at her, she quickly became frustrated again.
“I don’t have a war machine. I mean, I’ve got my dad’s old revolver in my glove box, but that thing’s a piece of sh-”
“The one you nearly killed me with, moron!” she snapped, wincing when she shifted her wing. Stanley found that he held absolutely no sympathy for the changeling the angrier that she got with him.
“… That’s a car,” Stanley explained as if he would to a small child. “Are you telling me extraterrestrials don’t have cars? Did you walk to Earth?”
He expected his tongue to try forcing its way into his nose again, and instinctively cringed; however, Chrysalis only let out a long, slow sigh of agitation.
“No, Stanley,” Chrysalis seethed quietly, pronouncing his name as ‘Stan Lee’. “Obviously, I possess no such machine. If you do not tell me, or even speak in a condescending tone again to your queen, I will tear your mind out for the information.”
He was tempted to smart off again simply to spite her, if only because it was a terrible habit that Stanley had – when Stanley got scared, he shot off at the mouth. He didn’t quite know if it was possible for ‘Queen’ Chrysalis to actually rip his mind out, but he wasn’t particularly planning on pushing his luck.
After a few seconds of pretending to catch his breath in which he was actually desperately struggling to lower his heart rate, Stanley wordlessly put away the antiseptics and assortment of items from the first aid kit. He gradually lowered himself into his chair across from her, glancing at his watch habitually. Stanley hadn’t even noticed when the morning had come at all, let alone the time.
“Okay. Right. Okay,” he started slowly, rubbing his eyes tiredly and vainly wishing that he would wake up with a horrendous hangover. “So. Okay.”
“Get on with it!”
“Cars are just transport,” Stanley blurted. “If you want war machines, you’re going to have to get a tank.”
“A tank, as in a stone sentinel?” she asked with genuine interest.
“Not really,” he scratched the side of his head tiredly. “I’m kind of surprised you don’t know much about earthlings, for an alien.”
“Bite me,” she deadpanned again. “I only just discovered this revolting mud pit.”
“Oh, really,” Stanley answered automatically without a single shred of interest, far more intrigued by the fact that he wasn’t actually biting her. It seemed that although he was forced to obey commands, some were easily ignored or bypassed if she didn’t mean them literally. His mind instantly flew to different kinds of loopholes that he could use, and the gears began to turn. “Where from? Alabama?”
“Equestria,” Chrysalis replied flatly, moving herself to a more comfortable sitting position and moving her seaweed green mane from her face. “A rich enough source of magic, but the resources required to feed an army are dwindling as of late. Hence, my latest excursions.”
“Uh huh,” he again said distractedly. “Never heard of that planet.”
“Country,” she said through her teeth, and for a moment he thought that she was angry at him for not knowing; it was a couple of seconds before he realized that she was clenching her teeth in pain. A single shard of pity clawed its way into his chest, similar to when he had first found her beneath his car.
“… You know, I’ve got some painkillers,” Stanley started, wondering if he could overdose the changeling. “I’ll bet that you could really use that, I’ll go get –”
“Sit!”
Stanley promptly collapsed to the floor, and barely managed to throw his hands out to keep his face from slamming against the ground. His head snapped around to the changeling queen, who shot daggers at him the entire while.
“What?” he stuttered. “Just-just being helpful, uh… Queenie.”
Chrysalis was clearly enraged, but slowly calmed herself slightly before speaking.
“I will not allow you to poison me with your filth,” she spat angrily.
“No, no, it’s not poison!” Stanley held up his hands innocently, struggling to sit up straight. Although, he would have been immensely pleased if he could have given her poison. “I swear, it’s just Vicodin.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and he almost felt as if she were looking directly through him. His heartbeat almost seemed to chug like a speeding train, and the sweat prickled along the back of his neck badly.
“… Very well,” Chrysalis stated eventually, and he had to resist the urge to let out a sigh of relief. “Bring me your medicines, that I may relieve a fraction of the pain from the injuries you caused.”
Stanley nodded dimly, scrabbling in his pocket for the bottle before shoving it under her nose.
“… Open it, moron.”
Stanley let out a quiet sigh, popping out a couple of the pills for her before dropping them into her hoof. He was surprised that she even managed to hold them in her hoof at all. She swallowed them both quickly, and Stanley spotted a pair of uncomfortably sharp looking fangs in her mouth. He cringed backward, suddenly afraid of adding ‘being bitten’ onto the list of things he was already terrified of today.
“Now,” she cleared her throat eventually, and Stanley ever so slowly retook his seat and tried to ignore the unnecessarily cheerful chirping of birds. “Back to the war machines.”
“I don’t have a tank,” Stanley deadpanned immediately. “I don’t have war machines of any kind, don’t bother.”
“… Not even a small one?”
He didn’t know why, but he almost felt the urge to laugh at that one.
“No,” he stated flatly. “If you want a tank, you should have gone to the army, or the marines, or something. I’ve just got a car.”
Chrysalis thought over this for a moment, before nodding with a hint of a frown growing.
“Of course not. Gather the necessary supplies,” she said, mulling something over. He felt his limbs jerkily obeying, and he sourly rose for her vague command. “You shall assist me in traversal through the conversion point shortly.”
“Assist you in traversing my foot up your ass,” he grumbled automatically.
“What was that?”
“I said we should get food and gas,” Stanley lied unconvincingly, stretching his aching back. “Very necessary, for your, uh… ‘conversion point’. Yeah.”
Stanley would probably have said more, if not for the fact that he turned directly to the black haired woman standing stunned in his doorway.
0-0-0-0-0
Inky black hair, chocolate colored eyes and tanned skin heavily implied that Rose was of Latino descent. Her strong jaw was wide open from the surprise of the sight before her, and her thin eyebrows nearly rose into her hair.
“… Stan, what the fuck – ?”
“Run!” he yapped, nearly tripping over himself to keep her away. Before he could manage to shove his fiancée out the door, the dreaded command filled both his mind and ears.
“Seize her!”
Rose gaped at the changeling for a split second, which was all the time she had before she was rudely grappled by the frantic Stanley.
“Run, run dammit!” he shouted through clenched teeth as he dragged her violently inside, simultaneously struggling to force his own muscles to obey. Stanley was nearly blinded by a brilliant flash of green light, and his stomach felt like the bottom had just dropped out from the sheer horror when Rose fell limp in his arms.
Stanley shouted and swore hatefully at the changeling, desperate to keep the woman away from potentially being forced into servitude; he hadn’t even heard her car pull up!
“Oh, please,” Chrysalis rolled her eyes. “I already have a servant, and it consumes enough precious energy as it is to forge a link with a single one. Cease your whimpering and shut the door.”
Stanley promptly dropped Rose, who fell unconsciously to the floor. Stanley screamed her name, terrified that she had been killed. Her head hit the floor with a painfully loud thump, and he cringed as he violently slammed the door shut. Every single muscle and tendon in his body screamed against him, resisting his every urge to fight back; instead of granting him control over his limbs, it only seemed to make him twitch horribly.
“… Are you finished?” Queen Chrysalis asked in mild exasperation at Stanley’s desperate attempts to control himself. “Quit simpering, she’s only asleep. Stop doing that, I already told you that your precious little… thing shall not be permanently mine.”
Stanley froze, thinking swiftly. It was almost as if she were reading his mind.
“Obviously,” Chrysalis deadpanned, answering most of his questions with that simple answer. If anything, this only horrified him further. “Bring her to me.”
“Fuck you!” Stanley belted spitefully, but forced to painstakingly slowly drag the poor unconscious woman toward the changeling. He winced again when her head hit the leg of the coffee table, and though he was glad that she was only unconscious, she was definitely going to have a headache when she woke up.
“Rose,” Stanley let out a croaking whine as his heart sank. “Goddammit, Rose, why didn’t you stick with the loud-ass jalopy?”
“Excellent,” Chrysalis grinned, leaning over the unconscious woman. “Observe, servant. This is important.”
Stanley finally stopped fighting futilely against himself, if only because the urge to vomit suddenly became a powerful factor. He flinched when Chrysalis opened her mouth wide, revealing her fangs as she leaned over Rose’s exposed neck.
And he couldn’t even look away, because she commanded him to watch.
Instead of plunging straight into her neck in a horrible and gruesome display of vampiric hunger as he expected and feared, Stanley was instead thoroughly confused. For a moment, it almost looked as if Chrysalis were only… breathing on her. A few seconds after that, the tips of her fangs brushed lightly against Rose’s jugular, and he flinched again, just as if she were about to bite into his own neck.
A light, silvery blue light slowly began draining out of Rose’s neck and between the changeling Queen’s fangs. She gulped it hungrily, lapping the dimly glowing aura as the color gradually left Rose’s face. She looked almost peaceful for nearly a full minute, but afterwards began twitching and jerking as if she were in growing pain. Rose moaned lowly, beginning to shake as if she were nearly freezing.
“Stop,” Stanley choked eventually. “Stop, stop!”
Chrysalis eventually pulled away from her, allowing the woman to fall drooping to the floor. Stanley barely caught her, and again the intense hatred for the changeling boiled in him.
At least, for a moment. It was quickly replaced with surprise when Chrysalis shrieked loudly.
Her injured wing violently popped into proper position, and her broken leg snapped with a stomach-churning crack! Chrysalis’s breathing was shaky for a few seconds as she finally stood and stretched, flexing her newly healed limbs.
“There,” she sighed contentedly. “Much better.”
“… ‘The fuck just happened?” Stanley breathed, desperately trying to wake Rose.
“Were you not paying attention as instructed?” Chrysalis snapped, stomping forward. “You share the strength of your Queen, idiot. Feed, and we will depart.”
“… What?” Stanley struggled to process this information, looking back and forth between the agitated changeling and his unconscious girlfriend.
“Love!” Chrysalis bellowed. “Love, idiot, love! Drain her of it, and prepare your metal chariot!”
Stanley’s mind was abuzz with questions, and was repulsed when he found himself slowly kneeling next to Rose.
“No – wait, wait wait wait!” he blurted quickly, desperate not to reenact what the changeling had just done to her; or worse, kill her. “Just – let’s just go!”
“Oh, fine,” Chrysalis rolled her eyes. “Leave the wretch. The conversion point awaits.”
Stanley wasted no time at all in darting out the door, clambering rapidly into his own car. The engine groaned to life as he peeled out of the gravel driveway, manic grin on his face as he sped away.
He couldn’t be commanded to stop if he couldn’t hear her, could he?
His hope was short lived, unfortunately, as the rearview mirror promptly began snapping at him with the visage of a highly unamused Queen Chrysalis.
“My command extends beyond the length of sound, imbecile,” she deadpanned, and Stanley nearly swerved off the road in shock. “That was monumentally stupid. Now get back here, or I’m going to make you rip your own genitals off.”
Needless to say, Stanley grudgingly obeyed.
0-0-0-0-0
A New Fantastic Point Of View
0-0-0-0-0
Stanley swerved over the road with a screech, barely avoiding hitting another vehicle.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” Chrysalis snapped at him, whipping her head toward the sweating human.
“No,” Stanley lied, wiping the back of his neck nervously. “Where’s this conversation point again?”
“Conversion point,” the changeling corrected him snappishly. “And you’ll know when we get there.”
“Christ, you sound like my dad,” he replied conversationally, whipping around a curve in the road. He couldn’t tell why Chrysalis had him driving in the same direction that he had run her over in; but then again, he was mainly preoccupied on keeping her talking, some kind of distraction.
When she didn’t respond, Stanley said “What exactly is a conversion point again?”
Chrysalis breathed in exasperation through her nostrils, fixating her glare on the road ahead.
“You’ll find out shortly. Stop here.”
Begrudgingly, Stanley slowly pulled over to the side of the road. He nervously stared about, vainly wishing that he had his phone on him; whether or not she could read his mind, maybe he had a slim chance of calling the police. Or the military, the CIA, somebody better equipped to deal with this than he was.
“Get your weapon.”
“What-what weapon?” Stanley asked innocently, to which Chrysalis deadpanned. She jerked open the glove box, magically levitating the pistol and dropping it in Stanley’s hands.
“… How did you know that was in there?” he breathed, and he swore that if she had fingers she would have pinched the bridge of her nose.
“You told me where it was, idiot. Now, get out. You are going to protect me with your life while I attempt to reopen the focal window betwixt the gravitational fulcrums.”
“… What?”
“Just stand nearby and try not to die!” Chrysalis snapped at him, magically jerking open the car door and leaping out onto the side of the road.
At this point, Stanley was actually glad that a few more cars were moving along the highway; unfortunately, there seemed to be more people slowing down instead of calling anyone about the changeling walking around in broad daylight. It then occurred to Stanley exactly why Chrysalis had forced him to take the revolver.
“If any of them attempt to approach,” Chrysalis nodded to him as she tramped up the roadside ditch and stopped atop it. “Kill them.”
“Back!” Stanley yelled in panic to a couple of the approaching people from cars who’s curiosity had gotten the best of them. “Back, run for help!”
Against his will, Stanley fired off a shot straight over the crowd – several of the people scattered with screams upon hearing the gunshot, and he could only hope that someone had finally called in police. It didn’t appear that he had hit anyone, but it also might have just been his wishful thinking. Stanley stole a glance at the changeling queen, and much to his surprise, she was completely distracted – her mane was whipping wildly in a nonexistent wind, and her eyes were glowing a brilliant white.
For a moment, Stanley’s heart soared; he had the loaded pistol clutched tightly in one hand, and she was clearly distracted. Time to see if she was eager to gain another hole.
However, Stanley never got the chance, as a violent bolt of purple lightning hatefully pierced the sky. It blasted apart the ground in front of them, and Stanley nearly dropped the gun from the shock.
“The window closes,” Chrysalis breathed gleefully, whipping her head back to him and he saw that her eyes had returned to normal. “Now, servant – while I am weakened.”
If Stanley hadn’t been so stunned, he might have even been able to use this vague wording as a command to fire on her; however, it was all he could do to pull his mouth closed. The whirling vortex shimmering midair seemed to hold the majority of his attention, and he could only shake his head.
“What?”
“Carry me, idiot!” Chrysalis barked, and he was forced to obey. “Quickly! Get through, it’s closing!”
With one last pained, mournful glance back at the life he used to know, Stanley jammed the revolver in his pocket and leaped through the portal.
0-0-0-0-0
Stanley was awash with a bizarre creeping sensation, burning his skin. He felt as if he were falling, everything in his sight a violent, multicolored blur. Although he couldn’t tell how long he was falling, he did notice when he finally landed – and he didn’t manage to roll when he hit the hot sand, which only made the impact all the more painful.
He tumbled all the way down the sandy dune, the painfully scorching sand stinging his eyes. Stanley coughed and spat out sand, struggling to his feet. His head whipped around in confusion, and he covered his eyes with one hand to peer around the endless sea of blazing white sand.
“What in the hell…?”
“Keep moving!”
Stanley jumped at the changeling’s bark, finding her stomping angrily through the sand past him and back up the dune.
“What – what just happened?” Stanley stumbled in confusion after her, the shock of the incident still buzzing in his veins. Long gone were the trees and grass, the dully grey-blue morning sky. This place was unbearably dry and hot, all agonizingly white beneath a grim, vast crimson ceiling that coalesced into a deeper red the further to the horizon it drew. Stanley couldn’t bear to look up at the sky too long for the intense light, but he would have sworn that the place had at least three suns.
But that was impossible.
“The next focal point is close,” Chrysalis hissed, kicking up sand with her trotting. Stanley barely managed to keep from sinking into the gripping grit and fine powder, thankful that at least there was no wind whipping it about. Which, the more he thought about it, Stanley found even stranger. “This one should be simpler to find, although I doubt it shall be effortless to reopen.”
“I don’t see anything,” Stanley huffed, sweat already pouring down him. The heat was so crushing, so insanely powerful that he wondered just how anything survived out here.
“It is close,” she sounded just as pained as he did. “And it doesn’t. There is no life here.”
Stanley hid a scowl, forgetful that the wretched thing could read even the vaguest of his thoughts. Perhaps there was some way that he could manage to hide them, but he quickly swiped the thought away, lest she read it, too.
“Impossible,” he grunted, hoping to distract her long enough to get some sense of privacy back for his own mind. “You’re telling me this is a whole different world? Like, planet, or dimension? Why’s the air so still?”
“Shut up and keep walking!” Chrysalis snapped angrily at him, the heat evidently draining her. Even her already raggedy mane seemed to wilt from the extreme temperature. “All you need to know is that this is a dead land. And there’s no wind, either. It’s dead, it’s all dead! I’ve already seen it.”
Although he bitterly stomped behind her and was nearly ready to collapse into the sand, Stanley was admittedly curious as to the world’s history. Chrysalis had obviously been there before; how long would it take to escape? Had she seen the whole planet? Was the entire thing a fiery desert? How were there dunes if the place had apparently no wind? How did she know everything was dead, and if so, how were they breathing without any kind of plant to produce oxygen?
Thankfully, Chrysalis finally stopped him from bumping into her; and by that point, Stanley was certain that any longer would have boiled him alive.
“Here,” Chrysalis gasped at the bottom of another of the endless dunes. She threw her head back, and Stanley watched carefully as a vibrantly green spark alit atop her jagged horn, rippling from the tip and piercing the sky. He hadn’t seen that happen before – possibly because he had been too busy trying to warn people back. However, just as before, a violet burst of lightning forked down from the sky in front of her and a shimmering crack silently formed before her.
“… Okay, that was kind of cool,” Stanley admitted. “How are you even-?”
“No time!” she snapped again. “Jump through.”
“What?” he looked at the fading portal warily, but felt himself being slowly dragged forward by his own body nonetheless. “Why?”
Stanley expected her to answer with ‘because I said so’, but instead she smirked.
“Because your queen requires a shield, stupid.”
Stanley did not like the sound of that.
Within the moment, however, he found himself tumbling through a similar hole even smaller than he had before, lights and stinging sensation creeping over his skin. Determined and a little more prepared for it, Stanley forcibly shifted his body around, straining to land on his feet.
Stanley did not land on anything for what felt like hours, but must have only been four or five minutes.
He fell and fell, and was forced to clench his eyes tightly shut to avoid becoming sick from the painfully bright colors whizzing past. He tried making out a couple of the shapes once or twice, but swiftly found that it only made him develop a slowly growing migraine.
He was caught by surprise when he forcefully hit the ground, biting cold and darkness enveloping him.
Stanley flailed, the unexpectedly freezing ice and snow burying him the more he struggled. He kicked and thrashed, the panic setting in as he struggled to clamber out of the snowbank and free himself from the cold’s frigid grip. He strained for breath, his frantic actions only burying him further and further-
Chrysalis magically jerked the man from the snowbank by one of his arms, and he would have yelled from the pain if he had any air left in his lungs. He could have sworn that he heard something pop, too, but the sound must have been torn away by the wind.
“Are you finished?” Chrysalis snarled at him, as if it had been his fault. She glowered at him in the dark, and began trekking up what he could only assume was one of many mountainsides. Stanley couldn’t even see the ground, and quickly discovered just why it was so bitingly cold that even hugging himself as tightly as possible and tucking his fingers beneath his armpits did nothing to avail it.
“F-f-f-fuck y-you,” he spluttered, desperate to keep up with her lest she leave him to freeze to death. Snow quickly filled any crevices in his shoes and clothes that the landing did not already feel filled with icy water, and he was beginning to miss the boiling heat of the previous desert as compared to being on what he sincerely hoped was Mount Everest.
At least that would have meant that he was on his own planet again.
“There is shelter not far from here,” Chrysalis mumbled, but he still managed to hear her, mysteriously. The wind violently whipped his hair and clothes, snow and the start of a freezing rain dropping from the sky. “The next rift is within, but we haven’t much time.”
“H-h-how can y-you t-t-t-t-tell?” Stanley shook viciously, struggling to cover his eyes protectively from the snow and trudge up the steep slope after the changeling simultaneously.
“Shut up and carry me,” she commanded. “And keep up your pace, or we’ll be devoured by rabid snow scorpions.”
Despite the fact that his body forced him to carry the arrogant queen, Stanley was fully in favor of keeping up the pace and now thoroughly searching the snow he stepped in. He wouldn’t be all that surprised if there really was a world with gigantic ice scorpions lurking just beneath the snow, and this only spurred Stanley on further.
He grunted and tramped onward with Chrysalis in his arms, which he had long since lost feeling in. The sweat he produced was beginning to freeze from the intense weather, and a warmth had begun to spread in his toes that shouldn’t have been there. Stanley was on the verge of passing out when he dimly recognized the command to release the queen, at which point he collapsed hard on the ground.
Fortunately, he seemed to have landed on something softer than snow.
Unfortunately, it happened to have been Queen Chrysalis.
He remembered being dragged for a short while, and blacking out a little afterwards in a peacefully dreamless sleep.
When he awoke he was lying stiff in one corner with a tattered, heavy red cloth draped over him like a tent. A billowing green flame roared not three feet away, where Chrysalis sat staring somberly into it. He stayed silent for a few seconds, pondering if he could get away with pretending to be asleep.
“No,” she breathed. “It would be fruitless, Stanley.”
Instead, he said nothing and righted himself, clinging to the ripped red cloth and inspecting his surrounding curiously in the emerald light. Stanley rubbed the sleep from his eyes, smelling something akin to burning, but there was something unfamiliar about the scent. He seemed to have been dragged into a stone shelter of some kind that strongly reminded him of a monastery – however, it had obviously been abandoned for quite some time. It was heavy with ice and what looked like frozen cobwebs, tattered tapestries worn by time and defilement dangling precariously along high rock walls.
It was breathtaking, in a way; the halls of the monastery loomed before them and dripped away into darkness, the raging blizzard outside oddly reminding him of a horribly demented Christmas special.
It was then that Stanley realized just what was being used as fuel.
“Jesus!” he lurched away from the bodies in horror, trying to crawl further into the corner.
“Oh, stop whining,” Chrysalis rolled her eyes at his display of terror over her use of the dismembered and clearly human body parts. “I found them like this, they’ve been dead for ages.”
“They’re f-fucking people!” Stanley resisted the urge to vomit, covering his nose to protect himself from the stench. “Jesus Christ! You – you can’t – human people!”
“They serve, even in death,” Chrysalis purred in what was almost a pleased fashion. “These wretched meat sacks were not of your race, cease your gibbering. Look at them.”
Even though all Stanley wanted to do was turn away and retch, he did indeed look more closely at some of the burning bodies. True to her word, the more he looked, the more Stanley realized that the bodies were definitely not human – too small, almost the size of children.
That thought didn’t help matters in the slightest.
The bodies also bore burning rags of the same color that he was draped in, which Stanley suddenly found himself eager to rid himself of. Many of them had oddly shaped pincers or claws instead of hands, and rat-like, sharp faces that had grown gaunt with time. The sound of sizzling fat as one of them popped really did make him retch, which Chrysalis watched in morbid fascination.
Stanley wiped his mouth with his elbow, shakily turning away from the fire.
“… From what I have gathered,” she spoke eventually in a light, conversational tone. “These folk were known as devout worshippers to a sun god.”
The way she spat out the last part made him briefly wonder why Chrysalis pronounced it with such disdain, but didn’t get the chance to ask as she pointed out some of the small but finely woven intricate patterns on the tattered red clothing. Many displayed green half suns that had might have at one point been beautiful to look at, but had long since lost their luster.
It took a little bit for his disgust to begin to wane as Stanley’s curiosity and captivation by an alien race started to take hold, and it settled in on him just how impossible it all was.
“Is this a dead world, too?” Stanley asked suddenly, his voice hoarse.
“The conversion point is opening,” she stood swiftly, kicking out the flames. The long, eerie shadows that had been cast over them threw the room into stark emptiness, the cold promptly swarming them the moment the flames were stomped out.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he followed the changeling queen as she trotted swiftly down the enormous, creepily empty halls.
“Keep moving, buffoon. Had you not awoken, I would have left you here to rot.”
Stanley frowned heavily, not doubting that she really would have done it.
Then again, she might not.
The crazy bitch probably wouldn’t want to give up someone who would carry her fat ass around.
“I heard that.”
“Hey, so how ‘bout them snow scorpions?” Stanley marched a little faster with a forced grin, nearly bumping into a crumbling stone pillar in the dark.
They walked quickly and without pause for a short while, traveling deeper and deeper into the monastery. The more of it that they saw, the more Stanley earnestly wanted to see such a magnificent structure when it was full of light and populated, despite its denizens being apparent rat-lobster hybrids that worshipped a sun god. It might have been an incredible sight.
“At the altar,” Chrysalis commanded, pointing toward the end of the hall. The darkness loomed over them, and although he peered into the dark, he could see no such altar. Just deep shadows.
“… I don’t see it,” Stanley froze at the entrance to the much larger room, squinting hard.
He heard the changeling heave a heavy sigh of frustration, and a brilliant emerald light blossomed up from behind him and bathed the entire room of worship in a garishly green glow.
Stanley suddenly found himself ready to vomit once again.
Bits of the area’s populace were strewn about in horribly gruesome manners, some of which seemed to be impaled on pikes lodged deeply into the stone walls. Rubble and bodies intermingled on the floor, some of which were piled indiscriminately around the room. And in the center of it all, bathed most deeply in what Stanley sincerely hoped was just a very nasty stain, stood a simple little altar in the shape of a black anvil.
Said anvil was populated with heads.
“I’m ready to go back outside now,” Stanley felt a shiver run up his spine at the sight of the hollowed skulls. “I’ll take my chances with the snow scorpions, thanks.”
“And what precisely do you think did this, hmm?” Chrysalis mockingly asked him as she callously swiped the heads clean from the altar, a vibrant green spark already alighting atop her horn as it had before.
“Scorpions did this shit? How? How in the fuck did scorpions do this?!”
His words were drowned out by the deafening crack of violet lightning that pierced the air, striking the altar. The black anvil vanished behind a shimmering tear in the air, which Chrysalis nodded toward.
“Carry on, minion. Unless you wish to stay and find out for yourself, of course.”
Stanley wasted no time in leaping through the portal, and was swiftly enveloped by darkness.
0-0-0-0-0
