Equestria Delivery

Chapters

Chapter 2: Cache & Carry
Chapter 3: Retrieval
Chapter 4: Severed
PART 2 - COMMUNICATION. Chapter 6: Double Time
Chapter 7: Warranty
Chapter 8: Targeted
Chapter 9: Outrun
Chapter 10: Deliverance. END OF PART 2
PART 3 - DESTINATIONS. Chapter 11: Abandoned Mail
Chapter 12: Address
Chapter 13: Found
Chapter 14: Keyline
FINAL CHAPTER: Expiration. END OF PART 3.
Chapter 2: Overpower
Chapter 3: Dead End
Bonus Chapter: Infestation
FINAL CHAPTER: Exodus. END OF WRONG ADDRESS.
CHAPTER ZERO: Exposed. THE END.
PART 1 - SERVICE. Chapter 1: Package
Chapter 5: Denial. END OF PART 1
PART 4 - WRONG ADDRESS. Chapter 1: Underground

Chapter 2: Cache & Carry

Carol City, Equestria

The washing machine beeped a couple of times and whirred to life, a swirling colorful mass visible through the window on its front face. The mare exhaled and turned around to walk out of the bathroom. Along the way, she paused and glanced back, noticing a stain on the white tiles next to the washing machine. Sighing, she grabbed the mop and quickly wiped up the brownish-red blot.

Ditzy's hind leg nudged the door closed behind her. She took a step forward and knocked over a pair of figurines on the floor. Her eyes followed a trail of toys from her hooves, all the way to the door adjacent to the bathroom. It was closed, and a crayon drawing of a smiling grey pony and their child was hung up on it.

Walking past the door, she slumped down on the couch, her face half-buried in a pillow as she stared at the lava lamp on the table. An opened envelope lay before it, the lines of the fine cursive writing brought out by the dull orange glow.

Dear Ditzy,

I’ve heard you have been settling in there at Carol City. Not so sure on your choice of town, rumors say that your crime rate has been going through the roof. Hope you are doing fine there at the shores, we still remember you over here.

You’re probably working pretty hard, so I’ve taken the liberty of finding a decent place for you to hang out. You don’t mind a little excitement, do you? The catalogues say there’s a pretty blazing club on 88 Starling Avenue, called “Mustang Sally”. I’d suggest you get a nice outfit for your first time visiting, and make sure to dance with everyone.

Regards,
Lily

PS: Don’t take any of the stuff they offer you. If you really need a fix, I’ve sent you something safer to experiment with. Just add water.

Ditzy's good eye traced the lines several times, and she took a deep breath before getting up again. She walked up to the pots on the stove and scooped out a small portion of food, leaving it on the table along with the note, putting the rest into the coldbox.

Trudging back to the bathroom and spending a half hour inside, Ditzy returned wearing a blue postal outfit, carrying a grey pigeon mask in her forehoof. On the way to the front door, she grabbed a hoof-sized plastic packet from a nearby shelf, tucking it into one of the pockets of the blue outfit, and stuffing the mask into her saddlebag.

Outside, the bright orange sun wavered on the horizon. The midday heat lingered on, leaving the outside hazy and blurry. Seagulls chattered overhead, hovering on the breeze with outstretched, motionless wings.

The pegasus stretched her limbs a little, then spread her wings and took off from the balcony.

***

Muffled beats were audible through the walls of the club, becoming clearer for a moment each time someone opened the double doors. A pair of guards stood idly before the entrance, backs against the wall and forelegs crossed. They were silent, only grunting or nodding each time a guest showed up and presented their ticket.

Hoofsteps approached the pair from the nearby alley, and an equine figure emerged. The bouncer on the left blinked and rubbed his eyes, then leaned forward to take a closer look. It was a grey pegasus mare wearing a postal outfit. Her face was blank, and one of her eyes was off-center.

The large stallion grunted at his partner and nodded his head at the newcomer. The two of them straightened slightly and waited for the mare to approach. She walked right up to them, standing between the two within leg’s reach. They looked at her, and the one on the left held out his hoof, expecting a ticket or an entry fee.

In response, the mare slowly turned her head to look at him. His jaw dropped slowly as her odd eye gradually centered itself, both of her irises boring straight into his own.

88 Starling Avenue, “Mustang Sally” - 7:10 PM

Just before he could let out a gasp, she grabbed his hoof and yanked him away from the wall, her other foreleg moving below to trip his legs. The guard slammed face first onto the ground, grunting in pain. His limbs squirmed as he tried to get back up, while his partner cried out.

The pegasus gave neither of them time to react. Her hind leg came down on the stallion’s head, slamming his face into the concrete, and she used to motion to propel himself against the other bouncer. While he fumbled with the baton and tried to take up a fighting stance, the mare’s hooves knocked his head back and pounded on his throat. He coughed and fell to his knees, forelegs grasping at his neck.

Moments later, his own baton came down against his temple, and he collapsed, a pool of blood forming around his head. His partner only had time to let out another groan before a hoof pressed against his skull and crushed it into the concrete.

Once the bouncers stopped moving, the mare reached into her bag and retrieved the mask. She gently pulled it over her head, stepped forward, and nudged the doors aside to enter the club.

There was a narrow hallway, at the end of which stood a desk with coat racks behind it. There was no light on the other side, and no staff was present. The hallway made a right turn at the wardrobe, leading straight to the source of the loud music. From inside, faint voices were barely audible over the noise.

The mare pressed on, carefully moving toward the corner while hugging the wall to her right, painted bright pink by the lights overhead. The color shifted to green just as she reached the corner and peeked around it. Beyond another set of double doors was the main dance floor, a group of equines gathered upon it. None of them danced, but they moved constantly, either chatting away, laughing, or pushing each other around.

The lights overhead shifted to blue. She took a deep breath and marched forth, the patrons oblivious to her as she approached.

Bright neon tubes lined the floor beneath the thick glassy floor. The color of the lights changed in sync with the ones overhead, and those in turn were synced up with the loud music. Radiant beams made crisscrossing patterns across the chamber, and a large disco ball hung above the center of the floor, occasionally lighting up to fill the place with tiny motes of light. Beneath it, a group of stallions gathered, conversing and roaring with laughter. They all wore similar white and blue combinations, the clothes themselves ranging from just shirts to full suits.

A couple more bouncers sat at the opposite end of the chamber. Smaller groups rested on couches and chairs in the corners. These were regular ponies, who kept their heads down and kept away from the others. There was little chatter from them. Several were huddled closer to the walls, the white and blue thugs having approached their tables. At a few, they shoved the civilians around, shouting at them, while taking the drinks off their tables.

The music boomed, the lights shifted constantly, and the party raged on, until a few gasps of surprise cut it short. The wild laughter and conversation gradually died down, and one by one everyone turned their heads to watch a newcomer step in through the doorway.

The mare in the bird mask calmly stepped onto the dance floor, the strobe lights dancing in her glassy eyes. She stopped dead a few paces away from the gang, breathing evenly while everyone stared at her. The thugs’ expressions ranged from confusion to slight amusement, while the rest were plain terrified. For a moment, both sides just stood there, staring at each other, until the mobsters roared and screamed, several flailing their hooves, backing away, and pointing at the bloodstained masked mare. They were still regrouping when she made the move.

Just as the thugs moved around and reached for their weapons, she dashed towards them, sped up by her wings. A scream cut through the music for a moment before the high-pitched synths drowned it out. Her body barreled through the gang, a trail of red vapor trailing behind it. The stallions fell to either side, those in the middle screaming in pain or dropping still to the ground. The others shouted obscenities and scrambled after the mare, who skidded to a halt a few yards away, blood dripping off the tips of her wings.

The mobsters rushed her blindly and she took flight again, going rapidly in circles around them. One by one, she picked them off by swerving into their ranks, the blades hidden in her wings slashing across the victims’ bodies. Some bystanders stared and gave panicked shouts, while others tried to hide in the darker corners of the chamber.

The bouncers got off their flanks as well, freezing and backing off after watching a thug’s intestines slide right out through a slash across their belly.

The mobsters were reduced to a pair standing back to back, trying to keep up with the pegasus circling around them. She landed next to one of the dead ponies and picked up a metal pipe. Almost immediately, she tossed it at the thug closest to her, who ducked out of the way just in time. His partner, however, did not, - he fell on his back, crying out in pain. The other turned around and reached for him, in which time the pigeon mare closed the distance.

The witnesses cringed as the first pony’s neck snapped from an abrupt twist of his skull. Moments later, a shrill scream punctuated the sound of the shattering glass, as the other one’s head was smashed through the floor.

The thug's face ground up in the shredded wiring underneath. The lights across the chamber flickered, and the ones underneath went out completely.

The crowd held their breath and turned their attention to the masked mare, who slowly got up from the smoldering and twitching body. She shook herself off a little and returned their gaze with the mask’s empty eyes. Her breathing had barely intensified.

After a couple of seconds, the postal mare retrieved an object from her pocket and calmly walked off toward one of the side doors. She only managed to take one step before it burst open, and another thug stepped out - a swollen-eyed blonde unicorn dressed in a fine white suit, with a frazzled blue coat.

“The hell is going on out here?” he said. “Who the fuck are you?”

Without answering, the pegasus put the object away and dashed forward, wings spread. Along the way, she picked up a large metal crowbar belonging to a dead mobster and tossed it at the newcomer. The unicorn failed to move.

Just when the crowbar was about to hit, it froze in mid-air, a dull white glow forming around it. The stallion cleared his throat, bits of saliva fizzling in the air. The mare stopped as well, eyes fixed on the stallion's horn, emitting the same light, which flickered green for a moment, showing its taller, more jagged form.

She dodged out of the way just in time to avoid the crowbar flying back at her head. A few quick flaps of her wings helped her dodge a couple of knives torn out of the pile of corpses. One of the patrons cried out, a stray shot hitting him on the shoulder. The others started shouting and stumbling around in panic, while the bouncers finally began to approach the fight.

The mare continued to run around on the dance floor, desperately trying to dodge every object her opponent’s magic tossed at her. She rolled to a halt to avoid a broken bottle when the white glow appeared on her foreleg. Grunting, she tried to pull it away when the glow spread to her other limbs and hoisted her up.

“Now! Quick!” the unicorn shouted at the others. His legs took up a lower stance to keep him steady. “Tear the bitch apart!”

His face contorted from the effort as the pegasus kept thrashing against the magical bonds. The ponies around him just stared. The bouncers looked at each other and took another hesitant step.

“Hurry the fuck up!” he yelled. “I can’t hold her for— Shit!”

The glow on his horn faded, and he narrowly avoided the pegasus shooting towards him. Spitting and cursing, he tossed every random object he could find at the mare while scampering to put distance between him and her.

The mare dodged the blind throws and tried to make another pass, only to be held back by an incoming couch, a pony still sitting on it. The loud groan of straining metal rang out, and the rotating disco ball on the ceiling of the stage broke out of its frame before it was sent hurtling after her.

The mobster braced himself on all four hooves, and the glow on his horn outshone the strobelights above. He lifted entire tables, chairs, and even ponies, tossing them all after the masked intruder. The victims thrashed and screamed before crashing to a halt on the walls and the floor, most of them staying down. None hit the mare, but the large projectiles forced her to keep dodging.

“For fuck’s sake!” The stallion emitted a sharp, reverberating hiss. “Help me out here, will ya? You useless cunts are all—”

A wet crack rang out,and the white glow of his horn faded away. The pony stumbled forward, groaning in pain, and a green flash came over his body. He flickered again, but now it was the blue unicorn that was being flickered in. The actual body, a thick-limbed, long-fanged changeling with smooth, dark hair and a pair of slit, glaring pupils, appeared more consistently.

Behind him, one of the bouncers lowered the baton in his hoof, a few greenish stains on its surface. They sizzled and steamed, making the guard drop the weapon in surprise. Meanwhile, the unicorn changeling fell on his haunches and grasped at the back of his head, more of the green ichor streaming from it. Parts of his body flickered and turned black, the distinctive holes showing on his limbs, his horn growing crooked.

He went silent and froze when the masked mare approached. The bouncer behind him yelped and backed away. The mobster looked up, pupils widening as he stared into the eyes of the mask. Moments later, a pair of hooves grabbed him by the horn to drag him across the stage. He screamed in pain and thrashed violently, the crooked appendage on his forehead vomiting sparks.

The bystanders watched as the mare dragged the thug over to the disco ball, flapping her wings to propel herself. It had rolled to a halt against one of the dead thugs, already turned into a changeling. Upon reaching it, she quickly punched him in the temple. While he squirmed and coughed, she grabbed his head and slammed it hard against, and into, the disco ball.

The changeling screamed and gurgled, his crushed face filling up with blood. It stayed red for a fraction of a second before becoming a thick green liquid.

The snout managed to punch a hole through the ball, going halfway into it. The mare pulled him out, revealing the mirror shards embedded in his face. His screams were cut off as she pushed him in a second time, which made his entire head enter the ball. With that, she let go and turned around, using her hind legs to pound the back of his head repeatedly. The jagged edges of the hole tore into the stallion’s head, while his face was mauled by the shards piled up inside of it.

Eventually, the disco ball broke in half, exposing the unicorn’s head once more. His body twitched lightly. His horn sizzled randomly, sporting a large crack near the base. A final wet hack came from his lungs when another kick snapped the horn clean off.

The next moment, the mare picked up the curved piece of chitin and stabbed it into his throat. He twitched for a few more seconds before going still, a pool of green, steaming liquid forming around him.

The pegasus sighed, shook herself off, and took a moment to look around.

By then, the dance floor was a bloody mess, filled with corpses and heavily injured ponies. A few of them tried to limp their way to the exit, only to find it blocked by a couch and other large objects that had been thrown around, now having wedged themselves in the doorway. The survivors looked to the masked figure, who ignored them and headed off toward the side door once again.

She stepped into the narrow hallway, filled with darkness in absence of the strobe lights. A large fire axe hung upon the wall to her right, and she picked it up. Her wings kept her steady as she walked on her hind legs to the door at the other end, labeled 'STAFF ONLY'.

Inside, she found a stallion sitting motionless behind his desk. Blood trickled from the ragged hole where half of his face used to be. Next to him, another stallion in a white outfit cursed to himself while tossing packets of green vials out a hole in the wall. More of the vials lay in a nearby safe, as well as numerous pill bottles, several of them scattered on the floor between it and the safe.

Upon hearing her enter, the thug froze and turned around slowly. He only had time to curse loudly before the axe came down on his face, cleaving his head in two. The mare left the weapon embedded in his flesh and dropped back to all fours to look around.

There was a large aquarium bubbling in the corner, various exotic fish floating inside.

She walked up to the tank and extracted the package from her pocket. Pulling the plastic open, she held it above the water to let a hoofful of white spheres fall in. As soon as they hit the liquid, they began sizzling wildly. Thick, grey vapor formed in the tank and slowly seeped out of it. By the time she opened the window, the entire surface of the water was roiling, and the vapor grew into a cloud of fumes.

The mare quickly climbed out a window, slammed it shut behind her, and flapped her wings to take off.

***

”Less than a week since the mass killing at 45 Starling Avenue, the northwestern part of town faces another bout of destruction - at half past 7 PM today, “Mustang Sally”, one of the many local nightclubs, had erupted into flames, consuming the building and its patrons.”

…

“Tragically, the fire had caused multiple casualties. Located at the scene of the accident were 18 bodies, most burned beyond recognition. Expert analysis had proven that at least 2 of the bodies belong to Pact citizens, including a currently unidentified synapse potent individual. Evidence suggests that the club, which falls under the protection of the Majority Solutions security group, was being subject to gang harassment. After examining the bodies, CCPD forensics claim that a fight broke out between Majority Solutions security and unidentified hooligans. Unfortunately, before the criminals could be subdued, a fire broke out, with none of the patrons escaping.”

…

“Upon examination, the fire department and investigation crews have concluded that the cause of the fire was a fault in the establishment’s gas pipes. Lack of proper ventilation led to a critical buildup of the substance, and the crystal mechanism within the dance floor caused a reaction...”

Mirror Park - 9:10 PM

Bright lamp posts illuminated the park pathway, covered in shadow. The last of the sun's orange glow fell onto the path in checkered lines, blocked by trees and tall office buildings. Two ponies walked down the asphalt road, occasionally passing others. The bigger pony, a grey pegasus, draped a wing over the smaller one as they walked slowly towards a turn of the road, which led to kiosks decorated with neon signs and edges.

“You know, you look kinda tired,” the Dinky said, looking up. “Maybe we should go home early? I don’t really wanna play if it’d make you feel bad.”

Ditzy patted her on the back and shook her head, nudging the small unicorn forward.

“I mean, I was okay at home. I’m independent, you know!” she stopped herself, touching her lip with a hoof. “Well, kinda-sorta. I can’t do laundry...”

The pegasus looked right at the filly and slowly got her bad eye to focus. She put on an exaggerated frown and shook her head.

“Okay, okay! I’ll play… I just don’t want you to feel tired. You’re still trying to—”

The mare lifted a hoof up, closed her eyes, and pointed at a kiosk right at the corner. She sat and turned her filly around as well.

“Oooh! I always wanted one of those!” Dinky trotted in place happily for a few seconds and left the grey mare’s embrace, galloping toward the kiosk. The older pony followed close behind.

The vendor raised an eyebrow at the two as Ditzy pointed out a big bubble blower colored orange and grey. She dropped a bunch of coins on the counter and took the toy before he named the price.

“Wooow!” The child giggled and took the blower. After dipping the ring in the soap a few times, she breathed on it and watched the large bubbles erupt from the other side. “Oh my gosh! Thanks, mom!”

The pair shared one more hug and left the booth, not bothering to collect the change. They walked further into the neon-lit city, passing kiosks and rides. Ditzy looked back at the trail of colorful bubbles and smiled.

Chapter 3: Retrieval

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 4: Severed

April 23rd, 1013 AN - 7:22 PM

Carol City, Equestria

Through a wide open kitchen window, hot wind blew against Ditzy washing her forehooves in the sink. She rubbed herself on the snout, trying to wipe something off with a wet hoof. Eventually, the mare dried herself with a towel, leaving a small amount of paint on it, now gone from her nose. Small drying blots of red were on her chest as well.

Waving a hoof in the air in front of her and frowning, she approached an opened box on the couch, an open envelope on the coffee table in front of it. Small patches of bright, pinkish red covered the inside of the box and a bit of the floor, a medium-sized can of cheap paint at the center, the seal popped off.

The mare followed a set of red blots on the floor, looking over her own steps from the box to the sink embedded in the carpet. Shaking her head, she carefully lifted the can out of the box and noticed a stencil underneath. After looking at it for a few seconds, the mare carefully put the paint on the floor and removed the stencil from the box.

She looked at it a few seconds, tilting her head to the side. It was a round shape, in which basic outlines of a heart, a moon, and a star were preserved in paper, the rest cut out. The symbol identical as the stamp on the envelope laying on the table.

The mare eventually nodded and left the picture form on the couch. She mare went to the coffee table, looking over the envelope’s contents.

Dear Ditzy,

Sorry it’s been so long since we wrote to each other. I know things are a bit different now, but that’s no reason not to stay in touch. Everything always changes, maybe even today. I’ve been up to something unusual lately myself.

Now I’m starting to understand why you moved to Carol City despite what ponies say about it. Not to fight crime, obviously, but for the weather! Myself, I have to contend with a plain old beach resort. Take a look at the photo cards I’ve attached - if they’re blurry, don’t blame me, I had to be discreet, you’re not really allowed to shoot these. At least the vandals haven’t put graffiti all over these monuments… yet.

I miss you. Well, it's not just you, but you get me. Write back soon!

Lots of love,
Cherry Berry

In the envelope were three bland and blurry photo cards. They depicted a small apartment block, a beauty parlor, and what looked like the inside of an underground transit station. On the white borders at the top, written in hoof, were addresses - 20 Starling Ave, 55 Starling Ave, and Dasher Station. As the mare turned the cards over, she found small wads of Equestrian bills attached to the backs. Removed and combined, they made for three hundred.

Ditzy picked up the photo cards and went into her room. After putting them into the pocket of her blue postal uniform, she looked out the window, watching a burning orange shadow take over the neighboring building. With a glance to the clock, the mare left her room and knocked on the door adorned with a picture of two grey ponies.

Once done, she retrieved the uniform, put the now tightly closed canister and stencil into the bag, and left home.

***

April 3rd, 1013 AN

Carol City, Equestria

2 Starling Avenue - 7:40 PM

A big, muscular, white-coated earth pony in the greyish-yellow uniform of the CCPD made a series of gestures to the group of other policeponies surrounding him. They moved in a defensive formation, approaching the back end of a three-floor apartment building. Along the way, they quietly powered up the batons attached to their forehooves, and each quietly tapped on the ground.

The one in the lead put on his star-studded sergeant headwear, lifted a bulky metal device, and fired a loud flashbang charge at the building, which crashed through the second story window.

“Go, go, go, get them fast!” he barked. The hooves of the rest of his squad thundered as they broke in through the door. “This better be worth it,” he added quietly under his breath, grimacing underneath the thick handlebar moustache. His forehoof adjusted a crystal antenna attached to a large box strapped to his back.

Once he joined his squad in the building, he paused and stared, his jaw dropping.

The back hallway was sprayed in blood and synapse, stains covering even a defunct firefly bulb on the ceiling. The sergeant sniffed at the air and nearly retched. His hoof swung through the air, dissipating a swarm of flies.

He looked to his sides, where most of his squad stood still, staring at the massacre site. When one of them lifted his baton, the stallion nodded, lifting his own and activated it. The policeponies stayed silent, advancing down the corridor. The sergeant halted for a moment when one of the squad members' voices came from ahead:

“Got bodies here, fresh!”

The officer gestured with a hoof, ordering the team to move ahead. He remained in the rear and illuminated the area behind them with a shoulder flashlight. He frowned at the sight, ears jerking, teeth grinding together.

“Who the—” he heard the same voice scream out, much clearer now and a loud thud came through the wall. Before they could turn around, more grunts and violent bashing sounds emerged from all around, and the earth pony saw four of the seven that entered stumble back. They fell on their haunches, wiping their faces of a thick, steaming green liquid.

“It’s a cheeseleg!” one of them grunted. He quickly recovered and reattached his weapon to his hoof. “Looked like Sharp before he fucked off!”

“Casualties?” the officer asked. He quickly rushed to get the rest of the team up and pointed them to defensive positions in the large room. He looked around, faintly hearing quick, clicking hoofsteps, and gestured to the other pony to use hoof signals for his answer.

One of the policeponies gestured negative. The sergeant nodded and sent the squad out into the big room, keeping to the rear. His flashlight passed over corpses, some charred to a crisp, some sporting numerous broken bones and cuts. The bodies appeared to have been there for a couple of days.

Remains of chemistry equipment lay under broken tables, all of it burned or smashed up. Three of the police squad lay on the ground, their noses and temples leaking blood. One of them shuddered on the ground, the hairs of his coat standing up, showing signs of baton shock. The stallion frowned and looked over the rest of his squad before having the incapacitated members dragged outside to a relatively clean spot.

"Talk about a gut feeling..." he mumbled to himself before stifling a gurgle. Shaking his head, he smacked the device on his back, causing the crystals to whir.

The officer positioned himself in the middle of the room and stretched out the antenna. His eyes wandered, and he noticed one of the more intact thugs with a glass vial stuck in his eye, green liquid saturating his dark hoodie. The stallion blinked and exhaled.

The device on his back began to pulsate, each signal accompanied by a low screech. He had to move from corner to corner, eventually finding a direction near a disemboweled hoodlum slumped against the wall. The device began to ring, the tip of the antenna beginning to spin, settling on different directions each rotation. The stallion grumbled, his eyes lingering on the sign on the wall - a circle containing a star, a moon and a heart. He made a series of hoof motions.

Each of the policeponies examined an adjacent room, finding more signs of carnage within. The sergeant remained in the center, keeping watch of a specific room, which the antenna settled on more often than others. Eventually, he beckoned another of the cops over, bursting through the half-destroyed door. Within was a decaying synaptic changeling, who was little more than a carcass with dried out synapse inside. The stallion kicked at the floor, flaring his nostrils.

The rest of the rooms yielded nothing, so he pointed towards the stairs. The squad ascended to the second floor, where the antenna began to spin more rapidly. The cops stepped quietly, each keeping their eyes peeled while the one unicorn on the squad lit the area around himself, eliminating need for flashlights. The sergeant stayed in the middle center, twirling the baton around his hoof while pointing directions.

The second floor lacked any lighting, most of the windows being barred up. Only the big hall stood out, which was where the flashbang landed, glowing sparkles still persisting in the air. There were just as many mutilated bodies throughout this level, with more changeling drone carcasses than below. The former apartments at each side of the hall lacked their walls, connecting both sides into singular rooms. They were filled with large glass vats, some containing fermented drone corpses. Most of their contents consisted of chemical lab equipment, left damaged beyond salvage.

When they reached the central corridor, the sergeant split his team up, while still keeping track of the signal. It moved between two directions this time, remaining strong enough to suggest a synaptic changeling in proximity. The stallion nodded to himself and growled into his moustache, pointing one half of his squad to the lab on the left, and headed towards the right with the rest.

The unicorn policepony headed the other team, the light from his horn distancing as his team went to check stash spots and investigate bodies for a living one. The sergeant activated his own flashlight and took a look at the lab on his side, scowling at the sight of drones floating in a dirty transparent substance with tubes connecting to all their orifices. He gave a nearby processing device a kick, with it spitting out a trickle of strongly odorous green liquid.

There was a loud noise from the other side - a quick, high-pitched wheeze, followed by the sound of wood and plastic crashing together. The stallion spun around, immediately followed by his two followers, one holding the front, the other keeping to the sergeant's back.

They stepped in unison to where the unicorn entered the other lab. Two of that team were slumped against walls, bleeding out their snouts. Further ahead, within the lab proper, two sets of hooves thudded against the weak wooden floor. The noise sent the officer charging ahead, the rest of his team close behind. The earth pony shook his head and growled, putting his shoulder forward for any incoming impact as he galloped past and over equipment. His eyes darted back and forth, watching for movement in the darkness where his shuddering light failed to shine, but all there was was many hoofsteps. Jumping over the charred corpse of a minotaur shaped synaptic, the sergeant re-entered the hallway connecting the former apartments. He breathed heavily, pupils shrunk, ears bent tight against his head, one of his hooves kicking against the floor.

The officer's eye twitched when someone emerged in front of him. A short distance ahead, the unicorn from the other team lit up his horn. He breathed heavily and kept rubbing his throat. The sergeant flexed his neck and took a cautious step toward the other pony, shaking the baton in his hoof to bring it back to full power. There was silence behind him.

“Piece of shit looked like Stones now,” the unicorn mumbled. His voice was unnaturally hoarse. “Must ha—”

The earth pony did not let him finish. He lashed out with the baton, striking as hard as he could against the body. His target squeaked and squirmed, lightning coursing through his nerves and muscles. The sergeant kept the baton to his body until the charge ran out.

The other officer’s body hit the floor, twitching and smoking slightly. It stayed the same, even the unicorn's voice remaining unaltered, aside from the naturally heightened pitch of his wheezing. There was a movement of air behind him, and quiet hoofsteps.

The sergeant opened his mouth and began to utter a curse. Another baton buzzed, the sound being sharper and less coherent than genuine batons, and struck his head. The earth pony contorted, the hairs of his coat and his moustache raising. The sparks shooting off the baton and his own body turned green before landing on the floor. Within a few moments, he was down on the ground.

The cop that covered his back stepped over him and paused before crouching down over the sergeant. He put his hoof at his throat, which hammered with heightened pressure. The cop exhaled and wiped his forehead, his visage fizzling away. He gave the sergeant one last look and rose.

An extremely thin, husk-like synaptic with a sharp, jagged horn exhaled loudly, legs shaking, vertically slit pupils stretched out wide.

“Fuck me... Why has it always got to be such a mess,” he muttered. His voice trembled and echoed, shifting away in tone from the cop that currently lay in the wardrobe on the ground floor. Another couple of breaths had him convulse shortly, whimpering in pain and biting on his crusty chitinous lip.

Moments later, the effects of the pills wore off and a large exhaust of magic released itself from his long, jagged horn. The changeling limped his way to the ground floor. The pores in his chitin gaped, glowing a light green, some having gained new, web-like cracks. He took calm, slow breaths, knocking at his horn every time it began to spurt, preventing his synaptic signature from showing among the carnage.

Once downstairs, he pulled open a slot in the floor near the main entrance and took the big duffel bag from within.

Before he left, the synaptic took one last look at the apartment building, ground his teeth and took off before another seizure made him stop, additional cracks springing in his chitin. As it stopped him from rounding a corner and entering the main street, he did not run into a grey, blonde pegasus mare in a stained postal uniform who rushed past the alleyway he was in. The changeling's eyes widened and he backed away.

Peeking outside, he saw her already having disappeared. Spitting on the ground, the synaptic waved his hoof and shook his head. He wiped his black vest and white shirt and took off, keeping watch for police.

***

TO: Commissioner Vice Point
FROM: Sergeant Thorn

This isn't about my demotion, I fully understand the ramifications of my frivolous use of time, resources and police staff. I've settled things with Flash. I will be ready to get back to service on Patrol as soon as my nerves recover. It should be about a week, the doctors say, they won’t let me out before then. If it were up to me I'd be back already. The matter we're dealing with, however...

I need to discuss what happened in private. I get you don’t want it to be public after my screw-up, but this is serious. This needs looking into. It's bad enough these thugs are using drones to cook illicit joy. This, though, was not band infighting, this was somebody slaughtering them like they were nothing. Labs like these take squads like the one I lead. Someone was very quick, very violent, and very flexible. Either that, or there was a whole group of killers. I really do suggest you look into this, because I have more than just a gut feeling. I don’t buy that those could be other drug dealers.

That was not how thugs work. Tunnel Snakes, Majors, Los Caballeros, they rarely kill like this. That was an A+ massacre. Dedicated mass murderers, Commissioner, ones who kill like it's their special talent. They were dedicated, too dedicated. I'd really rather this was a misgiving on my part, as you seem to have indicated. I don't like what I'm seeing. I don't like how correct my gut feeling ends up being from time to time.

As for what happened with my team, you already know what went on. I am not going to argue or try to leverage. What’s happened, happened. At the end of the day, I have to accept you've done me your share of favors. I trust in your better judgement, even if this time around I’m on the short side of it. Just realize that me and you know that this can go painfully wrong.

I hope this doesn’t have to go public.

"The Crown Casino and Restaurant" - 00:20 AM

The changeling with the duffel bag on his back looked around, keeping his head low. He approached the doors of a night club. Its exterior was bursting with neon and sparkles, and its title was embedded in bold letters into a large plate above the entrance. It flashed in many colors, illuminating the black carapace, green eyes, sunken-in face and short mane of the changeling, along with the large horn topping his head. He shook the bag off his back, gripping it with a thin, green aura and knocked on the doors.

“VIP’s only tonight, honey,” a female voice drawled.

“Blacktop.” He knocked on the door two more times in quick succession.

“The hell kept you?” a much deeper, male voice answered. The changeling entered the building.

Limping slightly, he sauntered into the club, waving weakly to the receptionist at the door.

“Hey, where’s the tip?” the slim, glossy, makeup-covered mare at the door barked at him in a male voice.

“For what? Opening doors?” the changeling with the bag mumbled. “Screw you, Phase.” He struggled to pull his burden along.

“Screw you, Nexus,” the mare shot back at him, settling down and beginning to file her hooves.

The changeling passed through an area packed tight with patrons, all of them dancing to the sound of a deep, bassy tune that quaked the floor. He made his way through, pushing particularly numb ponies away, and finally reached the bathroom. Once inside, he dropped the bag on the floor and opened the tap, letting his head soak. He moaned and spat.

After closing the tap, he looked up. There was another horned changeling in the room with him.

“Boss has been waiting for hell knows how long,” the other one said. That changeling had a longer mane, as well as large scar across his left eye. He wore the same clothing as Nexus, as did several of the club's patrons back near the dance hall.

“Yeah, I know, I know. There were complications. Urgh, this is going to end me.” The wet-headed changeling pointed to the mirror. The chitin on Nexus' face was sunken in, clinging tight to the endoskeleton, making his face taller, longer and thinner than the other changelings. There were webs of greenish veins poking through cracks in the chitin. His vertical irises had grown wide and jerked in place. “I can't believe we're bothering with this. I took two, and look at all these damn cracks. Any more of this and I'm going to burst...”

“You've been saying you could stop for years now. You haven't had an excuse since—” The scar-faced changeling picked up the duffel bag from the floor and examined its contents, nodding to himself. “Or…”

“Or, Synth. Coppers. And not just a patrol. It was a whole squad, and they were working overtime. Someone's starting to get ideas. They even had these tracing things with them. I couldn't bolt, so... Yeah.”

“Cold,” Synth nodded, shrugging. “But that's more trouble from the Boss. The cops were already hard enough to deal with, and if you're somehow not full of shit, cleaning up after an entire squad getting killed—”

“Hey!” Nexus raised his forehooves, frowning. “I didn’t kill nobody. I knocked them all out, tried to leave nothing behind. No way my signature stayed, I'm not that damn weak. This crap makes you feel like your horn will pass gas, but I managed. Even if they bring out the real forensics, all they're gonna know is, whoever took their freelancing coppers out doesn't give a shit what happens to his body.”

“Not like they’d be wrong, Nexus. You are a walking cadaver.”

Nexus trembled and banged his hooves against the sink, nearly breaking it off. He stared at his partner with his irises shrunk.

“Save your remarks for later, okay? Especially the fucking cadaver shit. You must think I had a choice.” He growled. “I'm not even done. Cops are one thing, but I saw some real shit there. Like, ‘we-may-have-an-actual-problem’ grade shit. Shhhit... Now, if I wasn't half-dead, falling apart and about to melt from my crippling drug addiction, I'd pack my hooves and gallop over to tell the Boss some bad news.” He looked at Synth, who scowled and began to stare.

Nexus let out a groan and wiped his face with a hoof. The scarred changeling sighed and clicked his tongue.

“Explain in short,” Synth said.

“The joy-heads that we were trading this crap with? I came in, and everyone was dead. Oh, screw me up my misformed cheeseleg ass, this was bad. I don't think the Wedding War was this bad... I mean, this was savage. Ponies have been going cuckoo for a while, but this was just ghastly. Limbs all over the place, guts on the floor, charred bodies everywhere." Nexus gulped and stuck his head under the tap again. Synth rubbed his chin and looked down at the floor, while the thinner changeling spat the water out and continued. "Blood and gore aside, if whoever did this hit those lowlifes, they may be some sorta fucking vigilantes or some shit. That means it's gonna come to us in the end.”

“Harsh.” The scar-faced changeling sighed and patted Nexus on the back. “Look, I’ll go take this to the Boss and tell him how it is. He can chew you out tomorrow if he feels like it. Last I checked, he was too busy to look at your ugly face. The bird and the cow are pestering him with something or other. Don’t think he needs any more distrac—”

Synth's words were cut short by a loud crash, followed by a reverberating, growling roar. Nexus and Synth quickly flashed, turning into a pale, thin purple unicorn mare and a burly brown earth pony stallion. They headed back to the dance floor, peeking from the door. There, the crowd was scrambling and retreating to the sides, while in the center, a large bipedal figure stood over an equine. It was a tall female minotaur in a black business suit, towering over a feminine synaptic changeling, who bled green out a cracked nose.

“Oh, you fucking—” Synth rushed ahead, shoving aside the bystanders. Nexus followed, stepping on bodies and raising the unicorn's head high, squinting.

“That what you call pestering?!” Nexus hiccupped, eyes darting back and forth, while the unicorn's legs shook much more intensely. Flickers of the toxic green light coming from the cracks in his chitin poured through the mare's face.

“Him and our foreign friends haven't been getting along. The Bosss... yeah, it was Parallax again.” The scarred changeling covered his face with a hoof and paced back and forth. “Wonder what he had her say to the cow. I thought she never even raised her voice."

“I just wanna go home, okay?” Nexus said to Synth under his breath.

The unicorn mare's eyes twitched, giving way to the slit irises, when the changeling glanced at the minotaur. There was a bulging vein visible on the bovine's temple. Her teeth were grit tight. Her blonde hair swung back and forth as she took slow, deep breaths.

Behind the minotaur stood a griffon, a stocky magpie, who followed the same dress code as Synth, Nexus and the minotaur herself. He stood on his hind legs, supporting himself with a long object inside a thick black sheathe. He had a claw over his face, shaking his head.

There was silence, safe for the music. The minotaur looked at the crowd, frowned, and wiped the synapse off her fists, suit and hoof using a napkin. Several other changelings in black vests and white shirts surrounded the one in the middle, supporting her as her head hung off, unnaturally blank eyes blinking slowly.

Straightening her back, the minotaur let out a quiet huff and reached into a suit pocket before taking off her glasses and wiping them too. Her expression became placid and vacant, while her eyes were no longer visible behind the reflections of the glasses.

The two changelings retreated near the bathroom.

“Yeah... You should just go. I’ll cover for you. Whatever they aren't happy about, I think it's best if you aren't here to sour his mood once he comes back. You're already a cadaver, but right now you can't even hold a bag.” Synth put his hooves on Nexus’ shoulders. “You have a tendency of making a mess even worse, Nexus. And you already are a mess. I don’t want to have to tell your girlfriend that you died from joy-melt while Parallax was being blown out again.”

“Thanks, dude. I owe you.”

“That you do, Nexus. Remember - this isn't on the house. You keep making a mess..."

PART 2 - COMMUNICATION. Chapter 6: Double Time

May 7th, 1013 AN - 06:55 AM

Carol City, Equestria

Ditzy sat under a parasol by the living room balcony, one of her hooves keeping the pages of her book from being flipped over by the breeze, while the other kept her head straight. Faint remains of a strong early morning rain popped against her snout, and the wind blew some of her blonde mane over the bad eye. Her skin shivered from the constant, minor abuse by the elements, but at least the book was kept dry by the parasol.

...and validating multiple, previously controversial, scientific theories on the inner workings of a changeling 'hive mind',, in particular ones proposed by the scholar Coalescence in the late IXth century, who split changeling creatures into non-sentient drones, sentient synapse potent changelings and…

...most impressive of all, it would allow a different species to enter the intrinsic neural communication web of the changelings, although research into the field is rather slow and difficult due to the ethical implications of the process. Contemporary findings have been rising in number since the signing of the Prejudice Rock Pact in early 1004…

...as additional research was protested by multiple organizations fighting for the rights of sentient creatures, disputing many points of argument, with resulting lawsuits leading to the highly limited number of publications on the topic…

Next to her, placed inside a school lunch box, were several pages of roughly scribbled notes. The pegasus looked at a passage from the book, then at the piece of paper lying at the very top. For a few seconds, she glanced up at the sun’s rays that had begun to pierce the shroud of fading rainstorm clouds. The mare then grabbed the note, balled it up with her hooves, got up from the chair and tossed it over the balcony.

The wad of paper flew in a straight arc just a little shy of a bin on the sidewalk, a few meters from a pedestrian crossing and a row of palmtrees. Halfway through its flight, the slight northeastern breeze corrected it so that it landed in the half-open bin. A purple, blonde unicorn mare wearing a waste collector outfit stood next to it, yelping and jumping away her head twisting back and forth until she noticed the grey mare sitting on the fifth story balcony. The unicorn retreated.

For a few minutes, the pegasus continued to stare towards the sun, breathing heavily. A gentle fit of coughing came over her, following which she scooped up the books and the notes from the table before retreating to her room. Once inside, Ditzy left the tomes and the papers on a bookshelf and emptied the lunchbox inside a tin can with several smokestick butts in it.

Having returned to the kitchen, she locked the door to the balcony and quickly washed the lunchbox in the sink. The mare then opened the fridge and took out a loaf of bread, followed by some tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, and cheese. She lay them out on a cutting board on the kitchen table and began to slice.

“Mom?..” came a soft, groggy voice from the hallway. Ditzy turned her head toward the voice and sighed. “I’m not late… yet… Uuugh, the weather’s so nasty… I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

The pegasus said nothing, merely shook her head and kept slicing. The tiny unicorn scrunched her snout and trudged up to the kitchen table, her head low. She leaned on a chair and stared at the meal being prepared.

“I… I dunno if it’s too late to ask, but could you make it just lettuce and cheese, please? Or… maybe just cheese?”

Ditzy glanced at the filly. Her hooves kept working the knife and holding the vegetables.

“I know, I know, I should eat my greens… though… Hmph! Tomatoes aren’t even green… And they’re messy. I get them all over my uniform every time I try to eat them. It’s icky.”

The mare frowned, closed her eye and pointed at the thin slices of tomato on the board.

“Hey, I still manage, you know!”

The mare sighed again and turned back to the fridge, placing the tomato slices onto an empty plate inside.

“And maybe—”

Ditzy shot a rather piercing glare at the little unicorn, who looked away and grumbled to herself.

“Fine, fine, vegetables-schmegetables, I know... “

With that out of the way, the mare nodded and went back to slicing up lunch for her daughter. They were silent for a while, the sharp blade noiselessly cutting the soft foodstuffs. Ditzy stared at the well-crafted metal for a moment, exmining the elegant shape and the small curve at the end, as well as the row of teeth on its top edge. She then froze, eyes widening, bringing the knife in her hoof closer to her face. A rapid pounding started in her chest, her face flushing. Ditzy trembled while turning to look at the kitchen knife holder next to the sink. Her jaw hung a little when she found all the kitchen knives inside.

“Uh… Mom? Is something wrong?”

The mare glanced at Dinky, then back at the knife. She hastily retracted it into the holder and raised a hoof to tell the filly to stay put, rushing to her room immediately afterwards Moments later, she returned empty hooved and took a knife out of the knife holder.

“Aaah, I didn’t know you bought one of those fancy sharpy-sharp knives that dull as soon as you cut something with them. One of my classmates says his dad bought one of those, and then it dulled right away. He says they're real good for dough though, they used it for his birthday cake.” She paused and gave a loud gasp. “Wait, are you gonna make me a cake?!”

The two stared at each other until the mare burst into quiet gasps, grinning and covering up her face. The filly giggled a little too, continuing to look at her mother hopefully. Eventually, once Ditzy quieted down too, she smiled and nodded. The sandwiches were ready soon afterward, and she saw Dinky off to school.

Once the mare returned, she locked the door and retrieved an envelope from under a one of the cushions of the sofa. Her smile faded into a neutral expression as she began to read.

Dear Ditzy,

I hope your vacation is going well. You have more than earned your rest after bearing the burden of the company business all on your own for this long. It goes without saying, but you are a credit to the team. It would be uncouth of me to get to the point without having reminded you that you are a wonderful asset and a great mare all in your own right.

Unfortunately, it seems that I have to interrupt your peaceful vacation, if only for a bit. You’ll need to return to the office - at Tejuano Heights 16th, in case you had forgotten (I am being silly, of course) - where there will be some unpleasantness to take care of. Nothing out of the ordinary, but quite dense, quite dense indeed this time around. Not to fear, however! For one thing, you should not expect to be… expected. As soon as you show up before four o’clock, naturally. Still, discretion is of utmost importance.

Also, while your performance has been flawless so far, I believe it is best that you don’t go out alone this time. A direct colleague of yours will meet you on site and assist you. I, for one, have reason to believe that you will get along perfectly. Try to hit it off sharp and don’t worry about collateral damage.

Back to work, and knock em all dead, like you always do!
Filthy Rich.

Ditzy remained at home until two in the afternoon.

***

The sun was low enough enough in the sky for the large mansion to cast a shadow over the rows of palm trees in its vicinity. The oceanside cliff it stood on was devoid of activity, save for the parking lot with a small number of recently parked expensive motor carriages. A large fountain stood close by, with the statue of a hydra gorging water out of its heads. Benches and trimmed hedges lined a paved leading up to the mansion grounds. On a neighboring cliff, a tennis court and a golf course were placed next to each other, a corridor with plenty of shade connecting them to the mansion itself.

The pegasus, dressed in postal service clothes, walked up the steep road and looked over the mansion grounds. Shielding her eye from the sun, she squinted at the front gates, inspecting them before stepping off the road. She moved onto the grass and quickly took to the air after a few steps, only having left a few hoofprints.

After circling around the cliff, she landed at the very edge of the tennis court, near the tall fence that separated it from the steep drop into the ocean. Carefully, she slid along the thin ledge between the two, utilizing her wings to get across any gaps. The shaded path to the mansion was just around the corner from where she landed.

When the mare was halfway to her destination, loud music started up from the direction of the mansion proper. Flashing lights could be seen through a window on the second floor. Moments later, a tall, rectangular object with sparkling wires dangling from its back crashed through the glass, and the music was cut off, replaced by loud shouting and bickering.

She narrowed her eyes at the source of the commotion while turning the last corner, only to walk face first into the muzzle of a large gun, which was held up by a light green magic aura. From behind the trigger, the pink and grey visage of a vulture stared back at her. Underneath the eyeholes, two unnaturally widened, bleak, bloodshot green eyes jittered in place, neither of them blinking.

The pigeon and the vulture stared each other down for close to a minute, both of them staying perfectly still. The pigeon’s bad eye twitched in place, forcefully guided to try looking forward. The vulture’s green eyes shook in place with the figure’s incoherent breaths. They wore the same postal outfit as the pigeon, though it was much more tattered, with several patches of clumsily repaired fabric. It looked off on its owner, whose muscular legs stretched the fabric in one place, while their sunken in stomach left parts hanging in that area.

“Hey, asshole.” The vulture’s voice was raspy, it spoke with constant small stutters. It resembled either a stallion with a very high pitched tone, or a chain smoking mare.

Eventually, Ditzy blinked, the noxious vapors coming from the muzzle having irritated her eyes to the point of tearing up. An audible, gravelly sigh came from the vulture.

“You what?”

The mare raised a foreleg, which made the vulture twitch and stuff their gun even closer into the pigeon’s beak. Ditzy reacted by poking her throat with a hoof. For a few seconds longer, the muzzle choked her with its vapors, until it was finally lowered, and the vulture blinked for the first time since they made eye contact.

“Yeah. I get it. Damaged goods. We all lost something,” the other killer said. They then coughed a few times and shook their masked head. Their eyes finally opened, now looking even more bloodshot, and even less controlled. “Or someone. Fuck them all to fucking hell.”

The vulture slung their weapon over their back, turned around and approached the path between the courts and the mansion, lined by tall rare oak trees on either side. Ditzy glanced at the vulture’s gun, which had everything but the trigger and barrel removed, the stock replaced instead by a massive cleaver sticking out the back.

The other masked killer walked with an inconsistent pace, constantly changing their posture, sometimes letting out short growls. They had no tail, the tail hole of their suit sewn shut. Fresh rips and stains of mud covered the ragged postal outfit. The tall, scarred, partially chipped horn and small pieces of coat visible through some of the tears suggested the unicorn was white.

“They’re high, drunk, all sorts of fucked up. I’m going in hot, you do whatever the fuck you want. I'm gonna be killing for two today, creep.”

The unicorn approached the path, which was fenced off from the edge of the cliff, a thin wooden door at the center. Instead of bothering with the lock, she lodged the blade into the wood, ripping out entire chunks, repeating the process until a kick with her hind leg made the whole thing crumble. The pigeon stayed behind and watched her companion enter, glancing momentarily at the small patch of untouched, ignored ground left between the court and the mansion proper.

Nodding, she went into a short start and took to the air, aiming herself at the still open window on the second floor. Gliding toward it with a few careful flaps of her wings, the pegasus slipped through without a sound.

Down below, a shrill scream erupted, along with a much deeper masculine one, followed by a loud crash.

16 Tejuano Heights - 3:12 PM

“YOU’VE GOT FUCKING MAIL!”

A rapid jerk gave away the inhabitant of the dim room she landed in, as her eyes still took time to adjust to the sudden change in illumination. A bulky earth pony with a brown coat and a rough goatee rested on a sofa to her right, wearing a pink a purple shirt with palmtrees on it. He spilled his drink and rolled off sofa, bumping against the expensive audio equipment stacked around it.

Massive speakers took up most of the big room, with an expensive crystal device at the center, all the wires connected to it. The pigeon quickly yanked one of the wires out of its socket and lunged at the stallion, punching him in the head and quickly wrapping the wire around his neck before he could make another sound. He groaned desperately, his hooves flailing under her, trying to grab at his throat. The mare gritted her teeth and pulled the makeshift garotte tighter, drawing blood where it tore into the skin, but she could still hear small gasps of breath from her victim.

Glancing up for a moment, she let go with one hoof and punched the pony in the stomach before dragging his body a few inches closer to the speakers. He gasped for breath, but only had a moment to look up in confusion before a large black wall filled his vision.

The mare was already facing away when the stallion’s cry was cut short by a wet crunch. Loud noises and frantic screams came from downstairs, which alerted the occupants on Ditzy’s floor. Two more similarly dressed ponies stumbled into the chamber, one of them looking exactly like the one whose skull was liquefying under the toppled speaker.

“I’LL COOK YOU, THE FUCK, ALIVE!” a guttural shriek sounded from downstairs, followed by a dull bang and an even more piercing scream. More voices cried out down below, growing more panicked as time went on.

The ones in front of the pegasus were taken aback for a second, giving her just enough time to launch herself toward them. The changeling from the duo took a masked forehead to the throat and fell to the floor, while the other was tossed to the side and into the wall, knocking over several shelves’ worth of valuables. Neither could get back up, as the changeling got jabbed with an outstretched wing, poking right through an eye, which drew a spray of steaming green liquid and a distorted screech. The other, almost having recovered, had a forehoof land straight on his throat, not stopping until it ground his spine against the floor.

The mare listened to the audible banging and clanging downstairs, as well as multiple sobbing, demented, shrieking cries. Hastily, she looked at the hooves of the two that lay on the floor, but both were empty, so instead she picked up an oval statuette that remained intact on the shelves. Holding it under a wing, she galloped down the hall.

A door flung open, nearly slamming into her face, and another stallion emerged. The mare skidded to a halt, dragging the rug along with her, and rammed the door as soon as the stallion was halfway out. The door swung and halted with a fleshy thud, only to throw itself back at her, knocking the pegasus onto her back, straightening the rug as she slid on the floor.

A tall, light brown unicorn in a soft purple suit emerged, wearing sunglasses on his forehead above the horn, blood trickling from his right temple. He stared at her for a second and glanced to his side, then returned his eyes to the mare, eyes narrowing. Grimacing, he huffed and looked back into the room he came out of. A feminine yelp came from there, and an oblong object flew into the unicorn’s telekinetic grip. He barked something at the occupant, only to yell in pain when the pegasus kicked his foreleg, causing him to swivel in place, growling something in a foreign language. The mare was on top of him right away, pushing her forehooves into the eyes. The levitated object - a long, polished wooden bat - narrowly missed her skull as it swung wildly.

With a roar, the unicorn snapped his head forward, butting the mare in the snout and driving her back for a second. The sparkly aura flared around the bat, and it swung right in the pigeon’s direction, threatening to hit her in the side. She grunted and quickly spread her wing, nudging the bat near the grip to disrupt its motion and avoid the hit. However, the next swing followed close behind, forcing her to leap forward, stretching out the other wing as well.

She bent into an almost feline stance, avoiding the blow, and pounced at the unicorn once more, tossing them both further down the corridor, where an ornate set of marble stairs led to the ground and second floors. Her forehead slammed into the stallion’s nose, and while he was dazed, she stabbed him in the gut repeatedly with the knife at the end of her outstretched wing. A faint wisp of magic lingered around the bat, which still hovered beside them. The mare’s hooves returned to his eyes, and his pained coughs and groans were replaced by a terrified shriek, not unlike the ones that came from downstairs.

The pigeon looped the string on the hilt of the bat around her hoof, getting herself upright using her wings. Her hind leg came down on the unicorn’s face, bludgeoning it multiple times until a loud crack rang out.

“YOU'LL FUCKING WISH YOU WERE DEAD,” the familiar roar came again. It was far further inside the mansion than before. A piercing, high-pitched gurgle followed it, followed by a series of mushy, wet noises.

The mare peeked at the portion of the ground floor visible to her, where she saw two black, jagged bodies twitching on a burnt up rug, the puddles of green blood around them boiling. One of them was completely missing its head, the other had half of the face and most of the right foreleg destroyed. Jagged, craggy blisters erupted and bubbled on their bodies. The strong smell emitted by the vulture’s blunderbuss lingered in the air, even more thick and unpleasant now.

Standing upright, the mare advanced further into the mansion, casting one last glance behind her back. The door that the unicorn emerged from was shut tight. A series of voices came from the rooms ahead, and the mare’s head lowered as she approached them. Her hind legs kicked one of the doors in, and she found four palm tree shirt-wearing thugs who bickered in their rapid, singsong foreign tongue. They waved their guns at each other for emphasis, a mess of banknotes surrounding them. An odd scent of burned paper and ink lingered in the room.

The loud entry made one of the stallions’ fire their weapon in shock, blowing a large hole in the ceiling. This stunned the others, allowing the postal mare to knock them down with a powerful gust of wind from her wings, while the bat in her grip swung at the clumsy thug. The pony - another identical copy of her first kill - staggered back as his head snapped up, the bat cracking his jaw and breaking his nose, sending a spray of hot, steaming green blood at the ceiling. Barely avoiding the stream, she rushed in and brought the bat down on the legs of the nearest of his companions.

After a pair of wet cracks and a loud scream, she turned around to catch the next one, who was already squinting and pointing his gun at her. The pegasus’ body twisted, and one of her wings lashed out, unleashing the knives lodged between the now spread feathers. Two out of four went wide, embedding in the floor and the wall respectively, but two more found their way into the moustached stallion’s neck, making him gurgle as his body was drenched in steaming blood.

More rabid roaring came from below, almost inaudible from inside the room. The mare bashed apart the head of another stallion that had gotten back to his hooves, his blood spraying onto the piles of money, this time leaving red stains that did not sizzle. The last occupant nursed a wound caused by one of the weapons firing wildly, his disguise already distorting. The pigeon threw down her bat and grabbed him by the face. The changeling coughed and screamed, already thrashing in pain from the friendly fire, but he began to shriek proper when his face was shoved into the fireplace that decorated the far end of the room. Not too long after, he went still, surrounded by the charred remains of several hooffuls of banknotes.

The scream he had made nearly drowned out a much louder, much lower, wall-shuddering wail. Moments later, three more figures entered the room, just as the postal pony turned her head toward the door. She saw two unicorn stallions wearing purple suits with bent knives attached to their forehooves, followed by a large black griffon towering over them. They stared at the mess of bodies in the room, and the mare stared back at them.

“I’M FUCKING INVINCIBLE!” came an especially loud growl from downstairs. The griffon narrowed his eyes, grabbed the two stallions by their necks and tossed them back through the doorway, his talon pointing down while his raven beak, adorned with a thin pencil moustache, twisted into a frown. He then unsheathed a long, thick fencing sword from a thin sheath hanging from his dark leather belt. The multiple zippers on his jacket jangling were the only other sound as he went into a low stance and pounced at the mare.

Having missed her chance to strike first, the pigeon stared at the charging griffon for a moment, then stomped as hard as she could on the outstretched gun leg of the thug she stood over. It fired from the impact, sending a crystalline slug right at the sword-bearing raven.

Despite his towering, bulky physique, the griffon proved to be quite nimble as he leapt into the air, dodging the shot. His sword arm coiled back, ready to strike as soon as he landed. She charged forward, slipping under him, her ears brushing against his feline legs. He cursed and skidded to a halt, and by the time the pigeon turned around, he was already almost on top of her.

Just as he lashed out, the mare rushed in to avoid the blade, and her wing snapped forward. The blades inside pierced the raven’s own wing, causing him to tense up and give a loud cry. The next moment, she thrust her entire weight against him, sending them both to the floor. Her forehooves pressed together and came down on his throat repeatedly until it cracked. Steaming green blood oozed from the wounds, and the body soon morphed into a distorted, black, jagged creature with its beaked mouth gaping open.

The mare took a peek out the door, still hearing noises from below. After managing to catch her breath, she rushed to the windows that opened to the balcony outside the room, where she leaped over the edge and used her wings to soften her landing. Immediately after hitting the ground, she turned around and vaulted through a ground floor window.

Her forelegs slammed right into a palm tree shirt-wearing stallion who stood with his back against an oven, pointing a shaky foreleg at the entrance to the kitchen. As soon as the mare got a good grip, she bashed the thug’s gun leg against his face, leaving it a mangled clump of black mush. The bits of green blood that hit her clothes burned unpleasantly for a few seconds before evaporating.

The kitchen was full of other thugs - all of them already on the floor, soaked red or steaming green. Some had their limbs chopped off, some had half their faces split open, some barely resembled equines, left curled up with blisters covering their partly molten features. The noxious smell from the blunderbuss and the corpses mixed itself with the food being overcooked in the pans and ovens of the expansive kitchen, as well as the confections laid out on a separate table. As the pegasus hurried through the chamber, she nearly stumbled over the mangled corpse of a mare in a maid’s outfit. She paused over the body for a second, then rushed onward toward the source of the noises.

A string of dark, bloody hoofprints led her down several corridors, a room with a pool table, and even a library. Around every corner there was at least one body, some chopped up and bashed into a pulp, some burnt and molten. Another griffon changeling was propped up against a wall, its misshapen, beaked head nowhere to be found. Stretched out across the next hallway was another maid, missing nearly the entire left half of her body, the rest of it covered in blisters. The pegasus had to leap over the scrunched, blistering mess that took up the space where the rest of her body should have been.

“MORE! I WANT FUCKING MORE! DON’T YOU MOTHERFUCKERS HAVE FUCKING MORE?!” That scream came from the far end of the room she approaching - a large room with a swimming pool, jacuzzi, and an enchanted roof, which turned the hot sun beams into neon pinks and purples.

She was about to enter the pool room when another thug backpedaled slowly out of the doorway. The light brown unicorn, an identical copy of one previously killed, had a large knife attached to his foreleg, which he held out while taking shaky steps backwards. His well-groomed tail shook as he whispered to himself, teeth clattering.

“Ya… vali… madre…” were his last words. The pegasus vaulted right on top of him, mounting the thug and bringing his head down onto the pool room’s tiled floor. After about four bashes, he stopped moving, and she sped onward.

The vulture stood at the far end of the pool, in front of a doorway. In front of her, lying on his back, was another thug - a magenta pegasus with a blonde mane, multiple earrings and aviator shades covering up most of his clean shaved face. He was missing a foreleg, which lay right next to him, covered in the redblood gushing from the stump. He screamed in a drained, hoarse voice as his face was being bashed in and sliced by the butt of the vulture’s gun. Bits of glass from the shades were lodged into the cut up mess that his snout had become, and a few hits later, the rims fell off. The foreleg that remained attached was barely intact, burnt up and covered in blisters, curled up against his torn up purple jacket. The hind leg joints were burned and molten, causing the hind legs themselves to bend at unnatural angles.

The vulture continued to shriek over the thug, repeatedly hitting him with the butt of the gun.

“FUCKING- USELESS- PIECE- OF- SHIT- DO- YOU- HAVE- ANY- MORE!” they spat barely coherent words at the body. By the end, they had begun to tremble in place, their head twisting, agitated huffs coming out of their mouth instead of words. “YOU- HAVEN’T- DIED- E- FUCKING- NOUGH!”

Inside the pool itself floated a massive, badly warped changeling body. It was bipedal, thick horns adorning its head. Next to it were several more bodies, including the other one of the two unicorns the pigeon saw accompanying the griffon upstairs.

The vulture gave small, odd noises while still mutilating the corpse in front of them. The sound bordered between sobbing, laughing and hiccuping. The pigeon tilted her head. Staring at the scene with both eyes for a few seconds, she eventually blinked and turned back to where she came from. Along the way, she could faintly hear the vulture start wailing, wheezing and hooting, their screams filling the blood-splattered halls.

Galloping and speeding herself up with her wings, the pegasus raced up the stairs, dodging piles of corpses, all the way to the one door that was locked. It took several heavy kicks with her hind legs until the frame gave and the door flew off the hinges. The masked mare trudged into the room, finding an office with a desk, several bookshelves, a manticore’s head on the wall and a safe lying on its side on the floor.

A group of maids were huddled together in the corner of the office. One jumped back with a screech, her hooves dropping the cutlery she was using as tools to pry the safe open.

The pegasus took a deep breath, walked up to the safe, picked it up with her forehooves, struggling to stay afloat, and heaved it into the panicked maids before they could scatter. Screams and wet squashing noises filled the room, the screams going silent one by one. Eventually, the pegasus calmly descended to the first floor. Her face and chest were covered in blood and bone, while her forelegs shook from the effort of lifting the safe.

At the front doors, she came across the vulture, who stared at her with blank eyes. The mutilated blonde body from the room with the pool was dragged by in the unicorn's telekinetic aura. The two masked ponies looked at each other for a while, Ditzy’s bad eye jittering as it looked forward, while her good eye eventually looked away from the unblinking, muddled green eyes. Her gaze wandered to a large hall lined with statues of ponies in armor, filled with half-finished decorations, stacked boxes of fireworks, a table left empty and a large banner hanging over it. On it was a painted picture of a smug, grinning blonde stallion with multiple piercings, and written above was “¡Feliz cumpleaños!”.

They stood silently for a minute, the pegasus escaping the vulture’s stare, neither of them moving. Then, abruptly, the vulture dropped the body from their magical grip and began to shake all over.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STARING AT?!”

They then stormed out through the double doors, breaking them open. Ditzy galloped over to the parking lot, took an empty bag from one of the vehicles, filled it with her blood and synapse-stained clothes, and took off.

***

”Following the pleasant trend of Carol City’s successful war on crime, the CCPD has confirmed that the reports of violence at an estate located at Tejuano Heights were, in fact, a police raid on the headquarters of the infamous Galiceno criminal organization known as “Los Caballeros Invencibles”. The estate was already notorious in the local area for multiple instances of fighting and unrest, as well as for suspicions caused by several visitors claiming the presence of numerous maintenance workers and servants without any having been officially registered for work. Its affiliation with the organization that ruled Carol City's underbelly in the years preceding the Wedding War confirms multiple suspicions. Cross-Continental Solutions, the security company assigned to the estate, have declined to comment in light of personnel and leadership issues...”

...

“...of the 26 deceased gangsters have so far been denied seeing the bodies. The involvement of numerous Prejudice Rock Pact individuals had given the investigation cause for concern with regards to the rivalry between Los Caballeros and the other currently active criminal organizations. Some family members of the deceased criminals have been taken in for questioning due to suspicion of ties with the illegal activities.”

...

“Commissioner Vice Point had this to say: 'It’s long past time that we stopped taking the drastic increase in crime lying down. We’re making it official - this is only the beginning. There will be no mercy, no reprieve. We are enforcing the law and bringing these offenders to justice. Carol City has always been Equestria's sore spot when it came to crime, and we're starting right there at the root. Los Caballeros' previous Dons have outright controlled this place decades before, when the Mare in the Moon was still there. The rest of the criminal scum plaguing this city will want to look at this and know that unless they come clean, this is what is waiting for them.' As for the unusually high casualty rate among the criminals...”

...

“...the estate where the operation was carried out is currently under renovation by mandate of the mayor as part of this decade’s housing plan for Carol City. Majority Solutions representative Gaur clarified...”

Carol City Elementary - 5:20 PM

Ditzy hurried toward the tall metal fence of the school. The bag, filled with clothes, thudded against her flanks repeatedly. She frowned, shaking a bit of sweat off her forehead. Her eye caught on the empty yard in front of the elementary school, and she bit her tongue. Having crossed the road, she leaned against the fence to catch her breath. She then proceeded to pace back and forth, squinting with her good eye and letting her bad eye relax for the time being, as it still twitched in place.

The school grounds seemed almost entirely empty. She caught glimpses of teachers and maintenance workers through the windows, but no children. Huffing and puffing her nostrils, she stomped her hoof on the pavement. Her brow furrowed as her legs and wings flexed, aching from the lengthy gallop and flight from the far end of the city.

There was a glimpse of an equine figure off to the side, behind the fence. Ditzy narrowed her eyes and leaned in, only to give a small groan when she saw it was an adult as well. The mare stood in place for a bit before heading toward the gates. Her eyes widened when she prodded them with a forehoof and found them locked. She rushed back along the fence to the figure, and it took several loud rattles before the pony noticed her.

The other adult was the groundskeeper, a ragged dim purple mare with an unkempt blonde mane under a hat too big for her head. She stared at Ditzy with baggy eyes and frowned.

“What do you need?” she growled.

Ditzy bit her lip and lifted one of her forehooves, then gently flapped her wings to keep herself in the air, allowing her to point at a joint near her hoof.

“The time?”

The pegasus nodded.

“Like a quarter past five.”

She sighed, planting a hoof on her face and shaking her head. The groundskeeper, however, leaned in, squinting at her.

“Have I seen you before?”

Ditzy lowered the hoof she was covering her face with, revealing her good eye to look at the groundskeeper. After a few blinks, she nodded and shrugged.

“...right… Just… go, would you? Nothing to see here. You’re creeping me the fuck out, lady.”

The pegasus bit her lip and frowned, lowering her head. Slowly, she turned away and sighed, going into a sluggish trot back home, where her daughter was no doubt waiting for her for at least three hours now. One last time, the mare glanced back and found the groundskeeper’s stare drilling right through her. Ditzy upped her pace, shaking her head, ears flicking as she went.

Chapter 7: Warranty

May 15th, 1013 AN - 10:43 PM

Carol City, Equestria

A crunched ball of paper rolled between Ditzy's forehooves as she sat in front of her coffee table, staring through the kitchen window out into the neon-lit dark. Warm drafts seeped into the room through the open windows, though the curtains barely moved. A couple of empty water bottles stood on the table, along with a few additional scraps of paper and a large book, its pages faintly illuminated by the dark yellow lava lamp.

After some time, the mare quit juggling the ball and tossed it into the trash. With a sigh, she leaned over the table, and her good eye went back to the large tome.

...as well as other unethical activities have seen a ban on research into Queen-era changeling activity. To the chagrin of the sentient life form rights organizations, who proposed a complete wipe of the records on the matter, several renowned scientific libraries have accepted the raw works, as well as papers that were derived from the subject…

...coinciding with the resurgence in interest around the years 1008-1010, greatly expanded after the Incident at San Franciscolt in the fall of 1009. Purportedly, the methods described were successfully used in the investigation into the series of murders that stretched from the current territory of New Canterlot and to Packsmulle…

...barbaric methods exaggerated in urban myths, up to and including the concept of synapse potent changelings freely using drones for food when none is available. Similarly dubious is the comparison between euphorium, created for sustenance of the changeling population as part of the Prejudice Rock Pact, and the substance used by the Queen's synapse potent scouts to keep themselves from 'going feral' while infiltrating deep into Equestria. The existence of such rumors, in turn, is clearly inspired by the actions of certain synaptic changelings during the Wedding War, which ties directly into....

The mare’s hooves rummaged through the heap of papers on the table, eventually singling out a glossy card with colorful print on it. Her eyes slipped closed and she drew out a sigh.

The Equestria Delivery Customer Support Service thanks you for reaching out to us!

We would like to inform you that the estimated payment for services previously requested will consist of 1499 MARQUES|24.999 BITS, tax notwithstanding. Fill out the form below and send this right back at us so our birds can get going!

RE-ENTER REQUEST: CCPD “Seashore Predator” investigation sci. aux. copies + classified documents.
PROOF OF VALIDITY: Pigeon. 45 Starling Ave, 88 Starling Ave, 25 Belle St., (½) 16 Tejuano Heights.

She reached for a pen in a tray nearby and added a few more words to the last section.

PROOF OF VALIDITY: Pigeon. 45 Starling Ave, 88 Starling Ave, 25 Belle St., (½) 16 Tejuano Heights, 32 Sugar Trail.

The pen almost jotted up the entire card when the mare jerked in her seat, her ear twitching from a noise to her left. A bead of sweat emerged above her eyebrows as she slowly turned around to face it with her good eye. She smiled and let out the breath she had been holding when the noise turned out to have been Ditzy, trudging by in yellow pajamas. She was dragging a head-sized plushie by its leg on the floor behind her, shambling toward the kitchen with eyes half open.

“I know, I—” The filly yawned. “I knooow… I just… I need to drink something, that’s all. So hot, I can’t fall asleep…”

Ditzy waited until her daughter turned the corner at the table and faced the water decanter near the fridge. The first chance she got, she quietly scooped up the papers, placed one in the book she was reading and stuffed the rest into the small drawer under the coffee table. The large book itself remained, coverless, on the table, the weight of the bland pages pressing down on an opened envelope.

The filly nearly spilled some of the water as she poured herself a drink. Her mother was already off the chair and at her side by the time she started gulping it down..

“Why’s it gotta be so hot on Friday? Uuugh… I could be doing stuff, and instead I’m sweating myself to sleep. Mom, what’s the forecast saying? Are they gonna finally get their pegasi to stop all this?”

The mare faintly puffed her nostrils and shrugged. She shook her head, brows furrowed as well, after which she smiled and patted the filly on the shoulder. A few subtle motions of her other forehoof had the little unicorn sigh and smile weakly as well.

“Yeah… I guess we can. I wish the videodrome worked right when it’s so… dang… hot. Reading’s better than nothing, so… Let’s go, yeah.” The unicorn nodded to herself and led her mother to her room, stepping groggily and accidentally knocking the toy’s head against the furniture a few times.

They were in Dinky’s room for close to an hour, with the filly reading out loud from one of the many books her mother had bought in recent months. Eventually, while the story appealed to her, the filly was much too tired to continue without yawning every two or three sentences, and her eyes could barely stay open. Ditzy picked up the big book and sighed, looking at the cover for a few more seconds. The pegasus placed it on Dinky’s bookshelf, voicelessly chuckling to herself when she noticed the age rating on the fold again.

Once out of the filly’s room, she entered her own and came back out wearing a postal outfit. She visited the kitchen one last time, where she reacquainted herself with the letter, squinting to make out the details in the dim light.

Dear Ditzy,

I’m writing to give an update for your plans to visit Birchy in the hospital. Honestly, I’m still shocked that you’re willing to make the trip from so far away. You really are as reliable as they say. I wouldn’t want to ramble, though. You’re a very busy pony, so I figured you may want a reference list of all the details. The Wedding War has been over for a while, but security is still very tight.

Birchy’s at the clinic on 32 Sugar Trail. You’ll want the northeastern wing. I know you’re discrete, but you’ll want to be really quiet around this time. I don’t think you are going to want to deal with this security all out in the open like you usually do. We like you for it, but try to be more subtle this time. They have been very antsy as of late. And don’t surprise Birchy too much. Whatever shall we do if she were gone? Keep in mind - all you need to do is get to her.

Just to thank you further, here are some photos from our last visit. I’m sure you’re not going to have any trouble finding your way now.

Stay safe,
Redheart.

Her eye focused on the two attached photo-cards. One of them showed a sultry, dark brown, short-maned unicorn mare frowning and stretching a forehoof toward the camera, while the other showed a massive synaptic changeling with a large, jagged horn and a similarly short mane. Their image was taken from the back, but it caught them in the middle of turning around, the slit-like irises coming through sharp and peircing. One of the photos had “Birch Breaker” and a “Fl. 4” written under it, the other was titled “Phase” with a “R. 62”.

The mare grabbed the envelope and its contents, set fire to it and tossed it into a bin. After leaving the apartment complex, she flew out over the ocean for a moment to dump its contents onto the waves.

***

The pegasus landed on a patch of grass with a light thud and shook off the sweat covering her forehead. She looked back at the winding street, illuminated by the neon signs of the many shops and establishments, the dim streetlights struggling to keep up. A few steps further down, the patch of cut grass below the weakly lit windows of the clinic submerged her in darkness completely.

She stared at the tall walls of the medical building. Carefully, the mare walked around the corner, where the clinic faced a dark alleyway, and the only light was a fire someone lit inside a rusted metal drum. Broken and decaying belongings lay strewn about, some of them fresh, though the area appeared empty. Ditzy stopped in her tracks, inhaled deeply, reached into her bag, and quickly put the mask on. With a quiet flap of wings, she left the pavement and hovered above the homeless abode.

A pink sun, heart, moon and star symbol had been left on the wall directly opposite of the fire, the paint still fresh. The pigeon silently nodded. When there was no sign of the owner in the vicinity, she began the climb.

The pegasus moved quietly in the air, doing short, random bursts of wingflaps between floors to make the sound blend into the background noise of the city. Once she reached the fourth floor, her hooves latched onto the wall next to the window on the corner, and the pigeon peeked through the half-drawn shutters. The window was locked, and the room was occupied, so she moved on to the left.

Ditzy went past six more windows in this manner. Four of them were rooms filled with patients surrounded by IVs and other machinery, most of them unconscious from the medication being drip-fed into their blood, while others appeared to just be asleep. A wide window led to long corridor with cold colored lighting.

Two bulky, dark shapes stood in front of a stairway at the opposite end, leaning against the walls, their horns glowing faint green, wide sheets of paper and pens levitating in front of them. One of them hissed and slapped himself on the forehead, and a tense exchange of words followed, while the other shrugged and rubbed the back of their neck. The window was not shut, and the mare reached for it, only to pause at the last moment. Closing her eyes, she shook her head and moved on.

The next window was another wide one, the chamber beyond filled with sofas, tables, several drawers and multiple videodromes. Leaning close, but still obscured in the sahdows, the mare could make out three figures standing inside.

The changelings wore their natural form, their bulky, dark, jagged bodies adorned in plain black vests, ties and white shirts. Each of them was a synaptic, with their own facial structure, horn shape, size and mane style. One of them leaned against a counter, filling his glass with some drink, and turned around, glancing at the window Ditzy had been observing the room from. His slit irises dilated as he scanned the window. She quickly withdrew when she saw him raise a hoof in alarm.

While she waited for any possible commotion to die down, the mare inspected the roof, only to find all the doors tightly locked, and all the skylights blacked out. Moving on, her scouting concluded with the last three windows of the fourth floor. All were patient rooms, two of them locked, but the last one had its window open, and the lights were turned off. Ditzy blinked, staring at it for a while, seeking out the patient within.

She nearly leaped back from the window when she noticed that, in the crystal light of the medical equipment, a figure inside the room was staring right at her, looking into the good eye behind the pigeon's mask. Her wings flapped quickly to keep her in the air just outside the room.

“I…” came a rough, hoarse voice, belonging to an elderly stallion. It was interrupted by a fit of coughing for a few moments. “I know who you are.”

The mare just floated in place, blinking in confusion. The patient on the bed motioned weakly with a hoof. She closed her eyes tightly and carefully drifted in through the window. Another coughing fit erupted from the stallion, his breath wheezing and whistling. Upon getting closer, tubes became visible, emerging from most parts of his body. There was a heartbeat monitor close by, sounding off erratically.

“Knew… your lot would… finally…” The old stallion whined and groaned for a few seconds. “C-come.”

Large, hot red surgery scars could be seen on the parts of him not covered by the gown. The stallion lacked a hind leg, and there was a large mess of wires and tubes going into his chest, pumping luminescent liquids in and extracting body fluids out. He stared at her with a half-focused eye, a bandage covering the other one, as well as a good portion of his head.

“They… think…” The stallion struggled to speak while the mare slowly approached him. “They… gonna get hit. Not by you. Effing roaches...”

Ditzy stopped, looking over the mangled pony. The stallion managed a weak grin with one half of his mouth. Most of his teeth were either missing or artificial.

“They think... think it's suicide...” He gulped and went into a lengty coughing fit. After about half a minute, the heartbeat monitor started beeping sharply. He strained himself and leaned closer to her, weakly trying to mouth something. "The birds... the birds sent you here to..."

With her eyes adjusting to the dim haze of the room, the mare noticed that some of his tubes had been dislodged, and there was a trail of liquid leading from the bed to the window,a reddish stain on its handle.

“Fuck’em,” he gasped out. His eyes slipped closed, and he slumped back on the bed. "Fuck'em all up."

The mare nodded and headed for the door.

32 Sugar Trail, Pride Mount Clinic - 00:32 AM

A dark equine figure closed in on room 84, its jagged, tall horn pulsing bright green. It signaled the two behind the corner to stay put, triggering a subtle spark in the magical aura. The changeling frowned, stopping a few steps before the room they noise came from. His head turned back and forth as the ones behind him sent out their own frustrated, persistent signals. Not wasting any more time, the changeling bent down, his black tie slipping out of the vest, and he sent a pulse of sickly green through the coldly lit hallway. The wave of magic echoed back to him, and his ear flicked in annoyance as he turned around, sending out a relief signal to the ambush party behind the corner.

The pair let the magic in their horns dissipate and they reached for the drinksl They took their first sips, only to pause when there was no sign of their third companion. They glanced at each other and exchanged faint mutters, lighting up their own horns and filling the air with the tingling smell of ozone. One of them cautiously rounded the corner, the other close behind. He paused at the corner, reached up to tap his horn, and shook his head while blinking his snake-like eyes. Small pulses of green magic started emanating from his appendage, at first only bouncing off the walls closest to him.

His head snapped around when his partner let out a gasp, his body tensing up, and he let out a sickening gurgle while his legs gave out. He slumped to the floor, a steady pool of green forming around the spot where a knife was embedded into his skull, even plunging through his jaw. His partner jumped back and let out a shrill cry, but he never got a word out before a mare in a mask and a postal outfit slammed her head right into his throat. The hardened carapace gave way to the force of the reckless lunge, and the changeling’s voice was reduced to desperate choking noises.

He tumbled to the floor, his horn reflexively sputtering arcs of green lightning until a forehoof came in against his snout, making a loud crack and snapping his head back, which sent the last bolt into the videodrome in the corner nearby. The old box crackled and sputtered as the circuitry and crystals inside vaporized.

Hoofsteps thundered down the hallway and several more vest-clad changelings rushed into the lounge in tight formation. The air was almost buzzing with frantically broadcasted synaptic waves. The group then split down the middle, making way for a large, bipedal figure in a black business suit, surrounded by four equine changelings. The leader cast a quick look at the three dead bodies, and the horns of the vanguard pulsed, sending waves of green energy throughout the medical wing. The curved horns of the biped sparkled iridescently as well, and it quickly gestured to its retinue, sending them off in multiple directions.

They left in pairs, one moving further down the hallway, the other in the opposite direction, checking the high security rooms one by one. Their leader stayed in the lounge, fixing the glasses on its snout, a bulky briefcase swinging idly in one of its hands. It gave a distorted hiss and took off the glasses, putting them on the counter next to the drinks and juices. Grumbling to itself in a warped feminine voice, the creature walked up to the window and spat out the open window in frustration.

There was a faint noise nearby. The minotaur changeling’s eyes widened, and it stepped tensely toward the window, its slender, yet muscular arms at the ready. Green magic sparked to life around the stubby horns on the top of its head, moments before a dash of grey flung itself at it, hind legs held forward for a strike. Within the split-second it had to react, the minotaur twisted around, avoiding the blow with a deft hop. They both skidded to a halt, and for a moment, the masked postal pegasus and the female minotaur stared each other down.

The bovine changeling stomped with its hoof and let out a telepathic call to the others, only to have its glasses crushed under a swift blow from the mare’s forehoof. The minotaur staggered back and quickly dodged the follow up strike, along with a bottle its opponent tossed from the counter. The unblinking eyes of the mask stared at the changeling, and she quickly smashed a bottle against the counter, keeping hold of its neck as she lunged at the minotaur. It swung the dense metal briefcase to intercept the pegasus, but right before the blow could have connected, the pony took to the air with a strong flap of her wings. She landed behind the minotaur and made a rapid series of stabs right into the back of the pretender.

The jagged edges of the glass penetrated the skin, but the changeling’s fidgeting from the pain kept making the stabs glance off. To its misfortune, the creature turned around too fast and caught the next blow in its abdomen. The mare lunged forward, driving the bottle even deeper, now digging into the minotaur’s intestines. Its disguise wavered and failed moments later, and it gurgled and coughed as its steaming insides poured out and liquefied on the floor. The briefcase fell next to the pile of gore, turning into a cloud of foul smoke with a faint hiss. Quiet as the confrontation was, it made plenty of noise in the previously calm wing, and soon enough waves of green energy pulsed through the walls. The mare quickly rushed for the window and leaped out, moments before a pillar of green flame consumed the spot where she had been standing.

A group of horned changelings rushed into the room. They formed a defensive line, eyes and horns doing overlapping scans in every direction. After almost a minute of no activity and no results from the scans, they collectively hissed and withdrew to a reinforced door at the far end of the hallway. The crystal lights along the ceiling flickered from the intensity of the synaptic thoughtwaves coursing between the procession. Their hoofsteps barely made any sounds, and the only noise to be heard during the trip was the erratic buzz of one of the defective lights. The guards formed up near the door with a faint glow, none of them looking very pleased.

Much more noise came very shortly, however - there was a sharp sound of shattering glass in one of the rooms to the side. The group stopped, letting out a few more seeker flashes across the walls and into the many rooms. They continued at a brisker pace as the wind grew hotter, many of the windows shattered by the attacker. More and more glass was shattered then, in random intervals, at random directions. It was more than shattering glass, however - the sound of heavy, clunking pawsteps against the stairway from the floor below drew closer to the corridor that the changelings had flooded into.

Two identical-looking tall, stocky, bulky griffons in fabric vests of a lighter shade than the other changelings’ prowled within sight, moving quadrupedally for speed’s sake. One of the two stared at the ones who fell, then at the defensive line by the door, and clawed at his magpie face in frustration. The one behind him examined one of the bodies, stood up, and wielded a still-steaming, green-covered knife in his talons. His free hand reached behind himself, but with the other, he made a motion with the knife against his throat, frowning at the remaining changelings. They moved more deftly when using their hind legs, striding closer to the commotions.

The objects that the two had taken were long, sleek industrial hammers. Differing slightly in appearance from one changeling to the other, they still appeared custom made, with a visible exhaust gauge on one of the hammer's sides.

One walked backwards, tilting his head to the broken windows and ready to swing at any sort of movement. His double reached the equine changelings, waded through them, and bashed the fortified door with a “62” on it with the butt of the hammer. The dull thud, and two more that came after, were silenced by the faint aura around the door. With a hiss, the griffon changeling stuck one of his hands into a security pod, and the door began to very slowly unlock. His pair departed back to the lounge, where a moderate crash was heard as one of the window frames was completely destroyed.

Inside the guarded room, the minotaur that sat in front of a sickbed looked at the griffon with a blank expression, and bent over a mangled, bandaged equine changeling on the bed.

“I’ll be right back, Phase. Fucking hell,” she said audibly, in a dual, distorted voice. That had been the first words spoken since the alarm was sounded. The large changeling covered in plaster and bandage, with wires going into the horn and chest, wheezed, spat and muttered something incoherent in response.

The minotaur changeling left the room and headed to another side of the hallway, having taken two of the equines with herself. The griffon remained in the fortified room, shutting the humming, sparkling metal door with a kick of his paw. He gave a swift pass over the vast, expensive medical chamber, covered with magical implements working overtime. The presence of magical interference from much of the equipment and the many odd shapes providing viable cover for an intruder caused him to let out a low, hoarse, echoing chirp. Several times, his eyes turned toward the window, surrounded by a persistent green glow. What it appeared to be on the outside, a plain brick wall, occasionally formed into being, signifying that the magic had not been tampered with.

The changeling on the bed let out a series of pained groans and swore weakly under her breath. The elite guard left in the room paid her attention every now and again, but mostly kept watch of the line of defense beyond the door, as well as any ambush spots in the room itself. The other griffon changeling’s shape was visible outside the window for a moment, the two duplicates looking at each other and nodding briefly after brief eye contact.

The moment that the other griffon disappeared back into the night air was when the glass, ooze, blood, water and juice-covered pegasus pounced out from the subtle gap between tankards filled with bubbling green liquid. She struck the hammerer changeling from behind, tilting herself in the leap so that the knife-adorned wing would leave his back mangled. The wing made contact, but skidded across with only vest and carapace-deep cuts left on the brutish changeling’s back. The hammer was swung back in her direction without delay, letting off a bout of thick, hot steam from the sides of its head. The mare leapt behind, the weapon barely keeping from destroying most of the medical equipment.

The changeling faced her, a heavy frown on his bland, clean shaven beak, and his body instinctively spread out its dark wings to prop up his posture. For a scant moment, the griffon’s eyes turned to the door, which barred entry or sigh to any of the changelings outside. He took a wing-propelled charge in the direction of the pony, but ended up meeting a fan of thrown knives directed right at his chest, throat, and head, failing to strike the masked mare.

The punctured, bleeding griffon was left mute in his last moments, but the drop and the whistle of the industrial hammer, as well as the strength with which he ended up ramming into a wall were noise enough to have spread outside.

Taking a quick look behind the door to see one of the changelings raise a forehoof, the mare swiftly approached the big one on the bed.

“Mother… fucking…” the changeling swore through pained wheezing. Her one limb free of plaster, a foreleg, moved around weakly, missing the big green button on her side by a wide margin. “C-cocksuckers.”

The pony exhaled and lightly thrashed one of her wings, jingling the last remaining knife. The blinded changeling no longer even moved her foreleg, simply laying in place, growling to herself and swearing. Before the blade could be submerged into the synaptic, the mare’s eye was caught on something for a second.

There was a book left on top of the injured changeling’s blanket. While the cover was damages and tarnished, with various liquid stains, cuts, and other signs of age on top of it, it still kept the pony’s good eye on itself for some time. She blinked, having withdrawn it from the barely visible details and the “M+” on the fold. Just by the bed, a small folding chair blended in with the pale color of the floor, fallen over during the short fight. The changeling struggled to move again, but let out a high-pitched distorted yelp and then a guttural, vibrating growl as a sharp movement of her head caused the heat-resistant bandages over her eyes to be covered in green.

“Just…” the dark equine hissed forcefully. “Just… got to the… g-good fucking… part…” With visible effort, the changeling mare turned to face where the pony had last made a sound and forced her mouth into a chip-fanged grin.

A shout loud enough to be heard through the walls came from behind the fortified door. When Ditzy turned around, she saw a changeling in the shape of the lean bovine kick at the slowly opening door, blurring out of shape and into a dark, jagged figure with furiously flickering wings as it went. The mare’s wing was still in striking position, half a second away from gutting the half-dead creature on the bed.

The wing folded and the mare turned around to face the door, moments away from letting a horde in. With a powerful kick, she sent the life support apparatus fizzling and humming into disrepair, and then galloped to the window, lunging outside. Her eyes, both of them, closed for a long second as she heard a series of loud pops and an odd, ozonous smell of smoke.

Ditzy only returned to the ground after half an hour had passed without heavy wings sounding in the distance behind her.

***

“...thus far representatives Pride Mount Clinic have neglected to comment on the matter. With the establishment already publicly known to have been in poor standing with the populace of Carol City, the simultaneous accident and failure to prevent the passing of enterprise investor Corral Brand, our resident analysts are predicting the clinic’s closure within the next quarter. Further troubling are the unveiled likely connections between multiple casualties of the accident and Carol City's criminal world, regarding which…”

...

“...interspecies relations expert Gabriel Engels points towards the partial blame being on lack of safety precautions in changeling and Equestrian technology, further emphasizing the disinterest in proper research following multiple events during and after the Wedding War. However, according to the CCPD arson detective who wished to remain anonymous, the connection between the registered Prejudice Rock citizen Birch Breaker, a casualty in the accident, and…”

...

“...in the words of Corral Brand’s mourning wife: “We only wish we had done as he wanted. It seems foolish, looking back. His predisposition toward [the untested technology] is more than well-founded. Crystal or even magical means were always certain. This only bought him a few more weeks to suffer. He'd done so much for this community, he donated to so many social causes, many think that he's one of the few who kept Carol City from going down the route San Franciscolt once did, with its rampant lack of control over the changeling population. But now we've done this to him... I feel for the families of the ones lost in the big accident, but the blatant failure of my husband’s medical equipment is inconceivable. This would never have happened in an Equestrian clinic.”

Mirror Park - 04:10 AM

Ditzy walked slowly up the path through the park, the sweat-drenched postal clothes, otherwise clean, still on her. Droplets of sweat laid a path behind her. She walked, barely looking in front of herself, and breathed heavily. Her ears drooped down from her head, which struggled to keep upright. The pebbles within her eyesight were starting to reflect light, the sun having begun to rise.

Not long after the road had almost become clear, even in spite of the tall trees at the mare’s side, it went dark again. She raised her head and saw the sun go behind a large patch of storm clouds in the sky. A moderate breeze blew against her snout. Far away, thunder erupted, and soon reached her ears as well. The pegasus sighed and upped the pace.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Ditzy was stopped to a halt by a warning yelp. She raised her eye from the road to in front of herself and saw a street sweeper mare she nearly collided with. The pegasus blinked, her bad eye falling half a second behind, and shook her head. “The hell were you doing trying to sneak up on me?” The cleaner unicorn scowled at her, taking careful steps back. “I look like a cheeseleg to you?”

The postal pony stared at the unicorn and gestured in front of herself with a hoof. The other mare blinked in return and tilted her purple snout.

“Uhuh. Um, right. Just… be on your way already. Hell, the one-eyed mute postmare gets an empty bag at four in the morning, and I get this entire fucking trail right before a rainstorm.” She spat on the ground, grumbling to herself. Ditzy had already walked past her, still peeking behind at the baggily-clothed mare. “Piece of shit.”

Thunder rang out again, and the cleaner looked at Ditzy once more. The pegasus was still having her head turned back, examining the other mare. The unicorn shivered and slowly walked backwards.

“Stop looking at me already, you loon! Fuck’s sake, I don't need this! What, you think it's funny, staring at me like that? Is it cause the papers say there's a gang of murder postponies wrecking town, huh, you think that's a prank?!" The sweeper grit her teeth, her eyes shrinking. "Well, I’m not a fucking cheeseleg, and you’re creeping me out, so... “ Incapable of keeping eye contact with the unblinking pegasus, the unicorn mare turned back and began to rapidly swipe the path. “I dunno, just get out.”

The pegasus took off on her own, walking towards home quickly now that the first drops of rain have begun to hit the ground.

Chapter 8: Targeted

-

April 29th, 1013 AN - 5:17 PM

Carol City, Equestria

“The Crown Casino and Restaurant”

The lanky, disheveled changeling knocked his forehoof against the long table, with over a dozen of other synaptics gathered around it, all dressed in black and white vest, tie and shirt uniform. His motions were lazy and weak, and his unkempt, short, seaweed green mane fell over his poorly focused eyes. The changeling’s breath was unsteady, and he poked his lower lip with one of his fangs as he stared up at the figure before him, which spoke in a deep voice, warped by multiple layers of echo and distortion.

“If your necks can’t keep carrying your thick, stupid fucking heads, you see what happens.” The glowing, twitching, blank-eyed synaptic paced back and forth on top of the table, their insectoid wings sputtering. Splayed out on the far end of the table, dark, jagged maw pressing into the wood, was one of the other synaptics. She gasped for breath, and her horn sparkled fetid green from a huge gash and crack in the middle of it. There was a large, hoof-sized burn mark on her snout, and part of her already damaged mane had burned away. The ones that sat near her had moved to the sides. “That's for you, Parallax. Anyone else got any excuses?”

None of the onlookers said a word. The twitching, ethereally glowing changeling on the table sighed and lowered his head. With a bright green flash, the wall on the far end of the room lit up, a large image with simple, neatly arranged lines taking shape on it.

“Good,” he went on. “Since Parallax decided to be cute with her little map... Synth. Go point a hoof at things. You can do that, right?” The Boss' foreleg shakily pointed in the direction of the synaptic that sat next to Nexus. With a sigh, the scar-faced, long-maned changeling got up from his chair and walked over to the image, which revealed itself as a luminescent map of a district of the city, several bright dots all over it, highlighting specific addresses.

“At your word,” Synth said. “Shit started at Starling, the slummy part of town. First...” He poked his hoof at a group of dots in one section of the map. “Well, it was just the street trash first, Tunnel Snakes, mostly. Then Majors got their ass handed to them, pretty bad. They have their whites and blues all over the place, yeah, but the fact is, they're pissing themselves, and even the papers are beginning to question if they're more gang than security. Moles tell me that some of their bossers got killed, hard. Ponies mostly bend over backwards for the Majors, but now they’re losing it. These crooks aren't gonna be useful worth shit anymore, aiming them at the others won't be worthwhile, so—”

“Ah, looks like we have an expert working for us,” the Boss cut in, the distortion in his voice rising. “Remember when I asked you to do thinking for me?”

“Boss, uh... I’m our... 'politics' expert, so, I guess—”

“You’re an expert, and you have to guess?”

The scar-faced changeling stared at the glowing one for a bit, not blinking, and eventually he shook his head. A small nod came as a response, and he continued.

“Then Los Caballeros started losing businesses. Falling like a house of cards, even with all the rackets in town. Don's been more concerned with his son's birthday party, and with recruiting synaptics into his fold, than the fact his locations are being hit. They think they've got Carol wrapped up and ready to plunder. Well, as evidenced by us and you, Boss.” Synth gave another sigh. “That ain’t ever been exactly very fucking true. Now, though, it's delusional. Opinion?”

“Diminish by five.” The blank-eyed changeling seethed at the contents of the room.

“We can walk through the door of their mansion at Tejuano any minute and take right over, there and then.” A jagged hoof slid toward the coastal area the city.

“So... that means we wait.” The Boss hummed, nodding to himself, and turned to the crew surrounding him. “I hope you all understood that.” His foreleg smacked Parallax for emphasis, making her yelp and jerk away. “I’m sure you’ll remember it, too.”

Synth held his breath for a moment before he continued.

“Now, us. Well, we’re doing shit as planned. Waiting it out, keeping a hold.”

The Boss snorted. “With you useless cunts, we’re ‘keeping a hold’ between our legs. Cradling our cloacas.”

Nexus lifted his head and looked across the table. Every changeling gathered there was shifty-eyed and tense. He retracted his hoof from the table and stopped knocking, now quietly rocking in his chair instead and huffing from time to time. The others looked less than stellar as well, but none were as visibly uncomfortable. A massive, androgynous synaptic that sat on his left nudged him harshly, so he stopped rocking.

“Sorry, Phase,” Nexus whispered. “I’m a mess today”

“You always are,” the faintly feminine synaptic replied in a growl. “Now shut up and sit still.”

“Then, well. Then we have what looks like our main problem - the ‘Eastern Connection’.” Synth kept narrating the map, the exchange between Nexus and Phase apparently having gone unnoticed. “These dragon-loving islanders are turning things into a circus, it’s a tourist attraction now. It's not enough that they have Equestria's balls in a tight grip back at home, but now they want a piece of our seashore pie. So, uh… For whoever wasn’t around…” He raised a hoof defensively, but received another nod. “...the Eastern Connection arrived, and instantly got piss in their mouth. First deal they were gonna racket, fucking bam. Then again, then again. Looking a damn lot like they've got a mole in their ranks, and that he's leeching off to someone—”

“So here’s our deal. Good.” The luminescent changeling waved him off. “You may sit down, Synth. You’ve said enough. Take that, and you'll stay alive.”

“Yeah, so, uh, there's still why all this has been—”

“Sit the fuck down.” The Boss raised his tone, briefly speaking in multiple distinct voices at once.

Nexus’ other neighbor obeyed the order and sat down, placing his forehooves on the table. They kept shaking from that point on, and he breathed unsteadily.

“Good. Now… about that recent setback that’s been hitting our competition lately. I know where Synth was going there.” The Boss turned around to face the more populated side. “After all the pony manure we took in the face for four, no, nine years, you’re worried some pants-on-head lunatic pony ‘vigilantes’ are going to kill us all?”

The figure began pacing back and forth again, while most of the changelings present averted their eyes. Nexus’ own pupils dilated.

“Well, one of you is right. Our main problem is the Yoni slantyshots. These special players aren’t. They won’t be. In case you forgot, you aren’t drones. So if you see one of them loonies charging at you, you'll want them dead. But I don't give a shit what you want, so I need their guts inside out.” He paused and leaned into the face of one of his subordinates, making them flinch back. “And I do hope I don’t have to give you magic classes...” The glowing figure pointed at Parallax, who still twitched and moaned. “...again.”

With a particularly spastic shudder, the changeling jumped from the table and stood at the other end of it. Everyone risked turning their gaze toward him, including Nexus, though he took a bit longer than the others.

“Here’s why I’m bothering to even waste my valuable time on you bunch of sniveling synaptic suckers. Tomorrow, those exotic overseas bastards from the Eastern Connection are going out of business... and straight into our slave pit!” the Boss bellowed, his voice almost losing the distortion, while the host changeling's mouth began to chip at the corners of its lips from grinning. “I’ll want the skies on fire above their heads, the walls decorated with their blood, and whoever’s left eating shit covering in front of us. And if you can’t get it done, I’ll settle for you lot instead.”

His luminescent forehooves banged on the edge of the table and the green map disappeared. There was a loud, echoing sigh, followed by lengthy silence.

“Alright. Stand up, you best of the best of the best. No, not you, Synth, I said your work for today is done. It’s time Mr. Lanky and Big Brother did something useful for once.” The blank-eyed synaptic pointed his hoof at Nexus first, then at Phase. Nexus was not the first to stand, however, only doing so when Phase pulled him with her. “This time this is for real. Our informant is sure, so you weren’t doubtlessly fucking preparing for your operations for nothing. Tomorrow, we’re stabbing them in the back and then sticking our candy stick in their mouth.”

Nexus had to cover his eyes due to how bright the grin of the Boss had become, even compared to the eyes. Next to him, Phase chuckled, audibly cracking her jagged edges.

“Phase - I want you to visit the bank at Sugar Trail. Be there before seven o’clock, wear something familiar, and put on a nice little show for their papers before they forget we ain’t extinct yet.”

“Can do, Boss,” the large synaptic answered with a wide grin, nodding her head. “That’s my style.”

“Which is why I’m sending you, and not this twisted personality.” The boss nodded his head at Nexus, his voice shifting through the syllables. “Assemble your crew and get it done. Those slants are going to hit the same place in two days, and they don’t know we know. When they march in with their fancy guns and flashy gadgets, they better not find anything more than a steaming turd in that safe. Now get out of here.”

Nexus raised his head and looked straight at the fluorescent dark equine, who had begun to walk right up to him. He breathed heavily, and his hind legs twitched and crackled.

“As for you, Mr. Shifty Shithead. The skyscraper hotel at Belle, ringing anything in your head? Better get yourself acquainted. These idiots are somehow less stupid than the lot of you combined. They’re negotiating with us for a truce.” He gave a short chuckle, the distortion rising into an ear splitting whine for a brief moment. “They probably think that just because we're here on the Equestrian mainland means we stopped thinking and started crapping friendship out our bumholes all day. Well, if they want to be friends so much, why don’t you take a few of your big bad colleagues down there? Smile and shake hooves. Show them how we treat our guests.”

The ragged changeling opened his maw, but he remained silent and instead looked down at his hooves, then at the rest of the room. When the glowing figure tilted its head, he closed his eyes and gave a reluctant nod.

“Good,” the boss said. “And no candy for you until it’s done. I better not see you cop a fix anywhere else either. This time, you’re going in clean.””

“What?” Nexus finally spoke up, awkwardly stretching a forehoof toward the changeling that had already turned away from him.

“Have you looked in a mirror?” The luminescent changeling's head tilted, the neck almost cracking. "Droney, I could sink my teeth into the balls of a tartaran, but I don’t want to look at your decaying maw for more than five seconds. This fucker can’t either.” He poked himself in the chest, piercing the tie. “I can already feel him squirming. You all heard what you needed to. Don’t make me have to come down here in the flesh.”

There was a loud shriek and a bright flash, after which the figure fell to the floor, no longer glowing. He lay there, motionless, until a few of the other changelings gathered around and turned him over, gently slapping him on his cheeks. The Boss’ vessel for the night began to cough and shiver, while Nexus turned away.

***

April 30th, 1013 AN - 7:34 PM

101 Belle Street, Seashore Suites Hotel

A raggedly clothed blonde mare stared down from the high rooftop, her eyes moving very little. She sweated all over her pale purple coat, with an umbrella tucked under one of her forelegs.Raindrops pattered on her horn, the appendage dim and unmoving. Strobelights glittered through the glass of the skylights behind her. Right above her head was a huge, glowing billboard. There was no noise beyond the steady rainfall, thudding against the umbrella and sizzling on the bulbs lining the edges of the billboard.

At least a dozen unmoving figures occupied the same rooftop, having gathered into cliques to the left and right of the domed skylights. Shrouded in the shadows under canopies and near the stairwells, several groups of dark, jagged-edged figures lurked as well. The equines to the left kept to a dress code of slick, light silver suits, shimmering with fine polish. Most bore large suitcases, and every single one had extremely long sleeves. About a fifth of them were blurry, blank-eyed, their disguise wavering on and off constantly. Even a few exact copies could be seen, though spaced far from the originals, who sat around, smoking or otherwise passing the time.

The group on the right was much smaller in number, fitting under the canopies with plenty of room to spare. All of them were undisguised changelings - bigger, more defined, with long, sharp horns, and bulky objects protruding from their color-blending vests. Among them were two pairs of non-equines - two tall, lean minotaurs, and two large, top-heavy griffons. The entire group was all silent and still, with little motion on the rooftop outside of more figures ascending the stairs to join either side.

Eventually, one of the griffons set off from under the canopy, along with one of the minotaurs. The latter headed rather swiftly towards the commune opposite of hers, twirling a pair of glasses in one of her hands not unlike a knife. The former came to a halt much earlier, arriving behind the mare with the umbrella and giving her a pat on the shoulder.

The mare exhaled and shuddered, flickering sharp green where she stood, and she turned around to face the avian. Her visage stabilized, returning to the visual of a boney, skinny mare, but the umbrella vanished in her grip. She spat down onto the street, and her body flickered again, reverting back to being the tall, sickly synaptic, whose disproportionately lanky body she mimicked. The griffon fixed the tie on his neck and straightened his vest, coughing and sniffling a few times.

“What, we starting yet?” Nexus asked.

“Should be, soon.” The griffon nodded his head at the departing minotaur behind him. “One of our cows, eh... Took the liberty of reminding them they’re not in the position to make us wait for their bosses. Thought I’d make sure you’re okay with it.” He dropped onto all fours, wincing and rubbing his back with a talon.

“I, ah. Yeah...” Nexus sniffled again and lifted a hoof to wipe his snout. “The fuck is up with them? Make them hurry. We’re not here to do Eastern pleasantries or whatever, I’m sick of soaking here.” He glanced at his companion and sighed. “Can’t imagine you feel any different.”

“Nex.” The griffon moved closer and put a claw on the equine synaptic’s shoulder. “Before we shifted today, the genuine article told us to let you know something.”

Nexus’ brow furrowed. “What, did you draw the shortest straw?”

“Yeah. He said you should have a bad feeling about this, and that he was always against it.” The griffon shrugged. “Take from that what you will, I don’t know what that old birdshit is talking about.”

“Right,” Nexus said, turning away. He glanced at the left side of the roof, which was completely still, save for one of the silver-suited changelings being locked in a staring contest with the minotaur. She turned around moments later, signaling with hand motions to her own. The synaptic exhaled and closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. “Neither do I.”

The avian remained by his side, even as the other non-equine moved back across the rooftop. He caught the equine changeling when he suddenly jerked, grabbing his horn with a hoof and nearly doubling over.

“Fuck the changeling web, fuck it to shit,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Turning back toward the minotaur, whose horns sparkled in turn, he quickly waved a response. “Okay, good. Now is better than later. I am a bag of wet pony manure, and I'm not drying up.”

Nexus patted the griffon changeling on the back and emerged from beneath the billboard. The changelings on his side of the roof stretched their legs and lit their horns. They formed up to either side of Nexus, and the barrage of raindrops ceased over their heads. He walked in front of the rest, the non-equines following close behind.

The corners of his mouth jerked and his eyes narrowed as the other side of the roof formed up and closed the distance between them. A much greater amount of silver-suited, stocky equines lined up, with only a single undisguised changeling, as well as a couple of non-equines of their own. Nexus gritted his teeth, noticing the protruding bulges beneath the sleeves of the Eastern Connection members.

His expression turned into a wide grin when he saw a large figure emerge in front of the formation. It was a massive male minotaur in a dragging, long leather cloak, an intricately tangled white beard on his face. A sizeable amount of various trinkets adorned his otherwise bare, tattoo-covered chest, and two large objects poked out behind his back, their handles peeking from behind his shoulders. Most of the bovine’s water buffalo looking face was obscured by a large pair of pitch black sunglasses. A smokestick was gripped his mouth, the small flame at the tip maintaining through the rain. Him and Nexus stared each other down, while their respective groups closed in until they were all but within a hoof’s reach.

“I understand your reservations,” Nexus spoke first. The sharp grin took full control of his face. “But I’m not sure how we’re supposed to do business if you won’t even make eye contact with us.”

“We find a way,” replied a voice coming from nowhere near the minotaur’s mouth. Nexus turned his head and found another non-equine - a griffon from the opposing side. “Typically, I would translate. We understand some specifics of Blacktop, however, so we have our own spokes... changeling.”

It was a modestly sized old albatross, limping along with a deep blue, lightning bolt-decorated cane. Most of the avian’s scrunched up face and beak was scar tissue. His copies, at least three of them, formed up to the sides of the procession. Each one mimicked the limping, attempting to replicate the intricacy of the scarring and posture, all of them slightly imperfect.

One particular standout, however, was the one undisguised synaptic,, slitted pupils narrowing as he stared at Nexus. He walked ahead of the line, having nodded at the griffon. He carried a wide silver suitcase on his back, which he carefully lowered to the ground and held up with a hoof.

“Kinesis?” Nexus grinned, tilting his head at his counterpart. “Now that’s a surprise. We’ve already buried you.”

Kinesis returned the grin. “I noticed. Guess you like sucking it up to the Boss more than I do. Your face probably fits up his cloaca way better.Well, no time to catch up now. Here’s our—”

The changeling’s voice cut off, and he started shuddering in place. He choked and gasped, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he grabbed for his throat with his forehooves.

Moments later, his neck split open, spraying Nexus’ group with steaming changeling blood. The suitcase fell from his grip, skidding to a halt between the two gangs. With a wet, wooden-sounding crunch, his head quickly twisted around, coming off in an explosion of green gore. A faint blue magic aura flickered around his body for a second, and the air vibrated as a booming, mangled voice rang out from above.

“NOBODY MOVES.”

8:04 PM

The floor shook violently beneath the two groups. Deafening thunder cracked in the sky, and sporadic heavy winds blew against the occupants of the roof. Its surface was showered with heavy hail pellets within seconds, pelting several of the bigger gangsters. Nexus trembled, barely standing his ground, and he was the first to take off when far larger projectiles were launched toward the roof from the floating platforms that sprung up out of nowhere in the air above them.

He snagged the suitcase from beside the disfigured body mere moments before a blinding barrage of lightning erupted all over the sky, striking all over several dozen gang members. The silver-suited, heavily armed clique could only watch him gallop down the stairs before lightning and payload overwhelmed most of them.

Nexus was completely out of sight, closely followed by the majority of the vested synaptics, when a group of dark purple, freakishly massive armored equines landed on the roof. The whole building shook from each impact, leaving sizable craters in solid concrete, and the ponies wasted no time bursting out of them, brandishing riot shields that crackled with electricity. A few broke off to pursue the changelings down the stairs, while the rest got in formation to engage the gangsters as they fired wildly.

By when there was a fleeing commotion at the other flight of stairs, a fresh wave of silver-suited gangsters ran into the retreating changelings. The griffons, both still alive along with Nexus, rammed them into the walls and crushed their heads before they could fire a single shot, their firearms jammed by the equine synaptics. One of the changelings hurled a projectile of seething spittle at the bodies of the would-be backstab crew.

The synaptics arrived at a clearing on the thirteenth floor, seeming empty for the moment, it being one of the luxury complex’s maintenance floors. Nexus shambled over to one of the minotaurs and nudged her with the suitcase, nodding at it. The bovine changeling glared in return. Her index finger pressed against her lips and then pointed out a window, where a multitude of objects hovered in the sky, large equine figures rappelling down from them. Sharp, lighter-looking figures soared further up, creating the storm.

The agile minotaur’s horns sparkled, as well as that of several other changelings who were staring at Nexus, and the procession headed off to a different staircase, the minotaurs and griffons leaving via window and crashing through the walls into the lower floors. Head throbbing as he received the signal, Nexus coughed and took a deep breath, attaching the suitcase to his back.

“Yeah, I’m not the distraction here, sure not,” he grumbled to himself, rushing down the closest stairway.

His hooves counted less than quarter of the steps as he rushed down the apartment complex, occasionally bending over and firing up his horn to transport himself down a flight instantly. The wind howled, there was rabid thunder outside, and even in the stairwell the lightning would occasionally blind the changeling. The arms fire that came from the floors above was almost drowned out, but not entirely. Nexus nearly tumbled over, grabbing his horn when the firing suddenly cut off. He looked up at the floor his gangmates were at and scowled.

The expression stayed on his face when he saw a glowing, sparkling mass barricading the way down from floor seven. His spit dissipated half a meter before he reached it. Nexus shook his head and galloped down the expansive apartment floor. Just after taking a step on the decorated rug of the intermingling hallway, he was nearly hit by a door as it flew open. Panicked screams came from the apartment, then multiple distorted voices, and finally a loud electric bang that nearly sent him tumbling onto his face, even though he was halfway down the hall by then. The entire floor shook with the sound of windows getting torn clean out of their frames, crashing, spreading broken glass through the air, the surviving frames banging rapidly.

In the cacophony of noise, Nexus rounded multiple corners, occasionally running into guests that emerged from their rooms in fright. Much heavier, more rhythmic noises followed him, sometimes mixed with screams of ponies and loud electric crackles.

The other path to the next stairwell was yet to be blocked, and the changeling descended to floor seven. That floor had already been fully barricaded by a multitude of pony figures in dark purple armor. Nexus pulled back for a moment, and his horn sparkled. Before he could add more than just the coat and blonde mane to his disguise, he groaned and shuddered, light green cracks springing around his face. Banging his horn against the wall, he halted the spell and remained in his changeling form.

Taking a deep breath, the changeling turned the corner and saw at least half a dozen armored ponies mere paces away. There was not a portion of their body exposed under the crystalline-looking purple metal. Earth ponies and unicorns - the former much more thickly armed, their hooves crackling and sparking, and bearing enormous, spiked riot shields, which glowed from excess energy. Meanwhile, the latter appeared thinner, heads covered by prolonged rubber masks with filters at their ends and colored, glowing eyepieces.

Nexus was still staring at them when several of the earth ponies approached him, two of them remaining behind and slamming their shields into the floor. He dashed for the stairway, but was still knocked down by the resulting shockwave, which nearly dislodged the stair railing out of its roots. Rapidly, the changeling backed off from the advancing shieldbearers, utilizing what little space there was on the stairway flight intersection. His thinking time was cut short when a subtle pull started to lift his legs for him.

Nexus thrashed wildly and managed to leap right at one of the shield ponies, horn lighting up. As his figure was obscured by the much bigger one, the disembodied force on his leg lost its grip. Jerking from the excess energy drawing into him, Nexus lit his horn and vaulted over the railing, dismantling it completely, and he landed near the barricade. Screaming from the effort, he let the magic discharge out, barely controlling it, and tumbled ahead as soon as he could move. Running blind, the changeling rushed ahead down the next set of stairs, having created a small gap in the barrier. His tail sizzled and left a trail of smoke, the ends completely scorched.

The earth pony shieldbearers and masked unicorns split up, half of them remaining on the floor as they proceeded to violently destroy it, the rest dissolving their barricade and going after the changeling with the briefcase. They followed him through the maze of expensive rooms on floor seven, tracking down the warping ash falling from the remains of his tail, as well as several civilian ponies, bruised or thrown against walls. Loud lightning shocks or a quick flash freeze from one of the unicorns, whose mask glowed with faint blue, got rid of those clues, while more armored ponies crashed in through windows or teleported straight into the halls to take care of the floor itself.

Nexus was already on floor six, having crashed into an apartment above it, broken through a living room door, and thrown the terror-stricken equine family’s videodrome out the window, which he climbed out of and vaulted into the floor below. The air was thick with electricity, and there was more hail than raindrops. A swift, razor-sharp pegasus figure swept right past him the moment he arrived in the room below. The changeling rammed his way to freedom out of the vacant rooms and dashed through the intersecting hallways to the stairwell which was not giving off the visible glow of a barricade.

The pony troopers that arrived onto that floor were busy going through the other apartments. Nexus felt an ache in his horn, and his ears caught the noise of a high-end changeling detector just as he reached the stairs - it bore a maintenance sign on it, with several bright red signs warning not to cross. Before he could even attempt it, the changeling was flung to the floor by a roaring vortex and a white flash. The next moment he was scrambling back up, but there was already a thin, masked unicorn figure coalescing in front of him. More shapes surrounded it, much fainter, growing more cohesive every moment.

Nexus groaned and lunged at the unicorn the second they seemed to be mostly corporeal. He quickly bent over and lunged upwards, teeth gritted. His jagged, sharp horn, still sparkling with excess energy, pierced the thinner armor of the unicorn trooper and gored it right at the intersection between the chin and the neck. The changeling was hit by a spray of blood before he turned around, his escape boosted by the explosion of energy. The air was momentarily filled with very brief screams, as opposed to the chaos of the ponies destroying the hotel and the hailstorm they had summoned.

There was a barricade blocking the stairs further down, but it faded from the explosion, allowing Nexus to pass through. Mere moments after he got past it and made it to the fourth floor, it materialized again behind him..

Once safely on the subsequent floor, the changeling touched his back, nodding to himself upon feeling that the suitcase was intact. The next moment, he rolled behind a nearby wall, barely evading a heavy slug that ripped out a large chunk of the wall that used to be behind him. More heavy shots followed, then a loud, distorted, electric noise. Nexus heard thunderous hoofsteps, different from the ones of the pony troopers, and cursed under his breath. He shook his head, examining the next flight of stairs. With a scowl, he picked up one of the few potted plants that occupied its corners. When the hoofsteps were just close enough, he leaped out and tossed the pot straight at the head of other gang’s minotaur, while Nexus himself slid over to a nearby door and swiftly bashed his way inside.

The stallion inside the hotel room was knocked right off his hooves and dragged along with the galloping changeling, until his body hit a corner that the dark equine managed to avoid. Moments later, a heavy slug crashed through the remains of the door and left an enormous hole in the wall above him, burying the pony in plaster. Several more shots followed, missing the galloping, bent-down changeling and obliterating much of the room’s contents.

Nexus rammed himself against one of the wardrobes, all of which had been moved in front of the windows to barricade from the hailstorm outside. He quickly abandoned the idea upon seeing a towering shadow enter the room. Breathing heavily, he put a hoof in his mouth and lit up his horn. The agonized gurgle was masked, and the trembling changeling was consumed in a green flash, after which his body shifted and blended in with the contents of the room.

The minotaur that marched in was dragging one of his hands, missing the other firearm, lacking most of the cloak decorations, and no sunglasses covered his face, revealing a blank green void in place of his eyes. He grinned and pointed the large gun at where Nexus was hidden. The synaptic snapped out of it and tried to dodge the shot, but it went completely wide and he heard a loud thud and a hiss of steam.

Nexus looked up from the corner he tumbled into and saw one of his griffons pummel and boil the other gang’s minotaur changeling. They nodded at each other, and the avian smashed the furniture blocking the windows.

The synaptic took some time to get up and check whether the case on his back was intact. By then, the griffon had disappeared in the storm of hail, while the sound of glass breaking loudly raing out from the third floor. Nexus groaned, dragging himself under the rain of projectiles. He was just about to get all his limbs out when several loud bouts of lightning and thunder shook the building, forcing him back inside.

Distorted screams, loud thudding, cracks of electricity, and hissing came from the floor below. He took his head in his hooves and put up a glow around himself, despite the loud changeling detector noises going off on multiple floors above and below. The changeling shimmied to the side, far from where his griffon had descended, and for a while he was protected from the hail. The alley three stories below was empty, making it one of the few spots on the surface not parked with large, crystalline vehicles, as well as police machinery. When the noises had died down or were far enough, he flung himself down and broke into a hallway window.

He found the albatross griffon driving his cane through a masked unicorn trooper’s chest just as the synaptic rolled to his side out of the broken window. His claws had already lit up with energy, going into the cane, frying the trooper within seconds. The avian took a moment too long to notice Nexus, and he stomped his wooden leg on the floor to leap back far too late - the changeling grabbed the frail griffon and flung it at his own cane while jumping as far back as he could. The case on his back was kept safe from the flash of green lightning by his own body. Not taking time to stare at the charred, jagged, deformed corpse, he ran to the intersection, looking for the nearest stairwell.

On the third floor, the gunfire had gotten louder than the storm. He seemed far enough away from it at first, but the noises got louder the closer he got to an unbarricaded staircase. Eventually, there was a particularly high-pitched shriek and a very loud, unpleasant, fleshy noise, as well as a brief shout in a foreign language. When Nexus had arrived at the staircase, he found a pair of pony troopers there, and more fleshy noises could be heard, followed by a simultaneous rise and drop in temperature, as well as sounds of an intense fire and cracking ice. The gunfire had died down completely.

Only one of the two troopers was standing upright, bent over the other who leaned against the wall, leaking red blood out of a big crack in his chest armor. A crackling green persisted within the wound, and not so far down the stairs, there was the charred, jagged corpse of a lean minotaur-shaped synaptic. The wounded trooper’s shield lay off to the side, and there was no electric aura surrounding his hooves. An even bigger crack was on his helmet, which revealed most of his face, broken in and mangled, though he was still alive and conscious. His comrade and Nexus glanced at each other mere moments before the changeling charged at him with a groan.

The other trooper was wearing the thinnest armor plating yet, painted white and red, and the only armament on his body was a far smaller shield with a red cross on it. Nexus threw his whole body at him, aiming to headbutt the trooper in his fragile-looking toned glass helmet. The glow surrounding the changeling bent and hummed as their bodies made contact before the pony could react. He fell back, while Nexus cried out in pain and grabbed at his horn, his aura dissipating. His tie thrashed in the violent wind that filled the hallways as he stared at the pony with the cracked helmet, fangs gritted from pain and nerve-wracking panic. When the trooper did not get up, the changeling shook his head and rushed back up the stairs. With a stab of his jagged foreleg, he pierced the exposed head of the injured earth pony shieldbearer.

Halfway on his way to finish off the trooper in white and red, Nexus barely dodged a sudden light green projectile that emerged from the end of the pony’s shield. He flashed his fangs, side-stepping another shot, but by the time he could take a stance, his opponent was already up. A muffled voice shifted unnaturally far down in pitch growled something at him, and the changeling had to dodge again as a rapid swipe of the sharp shield came at him. He flung himself at the door nearby, crashing horn-first into the hotel hallway. His eyes bulged, his mouth opening and closing as he gasped for breath. His horn vomited sparkles. There were fuzzy, wet sounds accompanying the sparking fits.

The synaptic closed his eyes, which lost vision, and screamed, galloping with all the speed he could muster down the hallway. Synapse streamed from one of his temples, oozing over his eyes, but he was able to move just before the pony aimed another projectile at him. Out of reflex, the changeling dodged another, as well as the acidic green stains dissolving parts of the hallway, where the previous missiles landed.

Nexus was being pursued by a squad of four before he even reached another room he could break into, barely avoiding a wave of flash freezing magic that turned the rug into an ice blanket. Having worn down his body even more by using it as the battering ram, he limped through the room, heading for its balcony. Inside was a mare and several foals huddled around her, hidden behind a wall, while the rest of the room was bombarded by wind, rain and hail. They screamed in terror upon seeing the intruder.

The troopers that reached the room had four thrashing bodies thrown violently right at them. A series of distorted voices screamed, drowning out the family’s shouts, as well as the bleeding changeling’s moans of pain as he smashed the window and jumped out.

Nexus dropped into the alley, landing straight on top of a large dumpster. He stumbled as he got off and fell snout-first into the hail-covered pavement. Groaning and swaying unsteadily, he got back up, shaking off the dizziness before he crept forth carefully. He exhaled and rested his eyes for a brief moment, seeing no trooper or police activity among the vehicles parked nearby.

After making sure he was both concealed and sheltered from the hail above, Nexus doubled over and released a tide of steaming green ooze from his mouth. His hooves supported him on the wall as he stared, eyes twitching, into the pile of vomit. He then shook his head, nearly falling over, and lay himself down properly. With a bit of fidgeting, he retrieved a small vial with a needle at the tip from his pocket, and he quickly jabbed the device into his throat. One of his hooves pushed into his mouth, while the other pressed against his horn.

A muffled scream echoed off the walls. A minute later a blonde unicorn mare with a bulge under her ragged hoodie limped out of the alley. She pulled the hood tightly over her head and swiftly trotted down the street.

A group of troopers in white and red stood near a pair of their vehicles, the mare making her way past them. One of them looked up and pointed at her. A comparatively smaller pony in a CCPD outfit, standing inside one of the vehicles, lifted a hoof and shook his head as he watched the shellshocked mare limp into another alleyway.

“That’s not a cockroach. If your gizmo-tech can’t see the signal, then it can't be.” The others argued with him for a bit, and he kept waving them off. “Think about it, she'd need to either be half dead from dampeners. She'd be puking lettuce out the horn. Just let it go, focus on what you're here for.”

They kept bickering for a while, the mare hearing the voice of one of the medics before she disappeared from sight.

“This could have been a civvie. We’re not bleeding hearts, but we could go do something. We're not that mental, you know that.”

The police pony sat back down and buried his snout in his hooves, avoiding the bandages on the broken ridge of his nose.

“Nah. I’m in enough trouble with the commish as it is. I’d rather not have to go to court with him to keep my job. Besides, look at her, she's healthy enough to loiter. You're not running your own thing here just yet.”

The white and red trooper shrugged.

“Well, it’s on you, Thorn. I say we definitely let innocent civilians die this time. What, do you want to feel better about yourself? Make us closer to what you traitors write about us in your papers?”

Nexus detached himself from the wall in the other alleyway, remaining unaffected by the elements, as the storm was fully contained within the area of the hotel building. He laughed to himself, spitting green, and limped on, maintaining the disguise. Along the way, he tossed another vial, fully emptied, into the trash.

***

TO: Commissioner Vice Point
FROM: Patrol Officer Thorn

You’ll keep this under wraps, so I’ll keep this informal. The favor is in. My connections came through. I say we're even now.

The hotel on Belle is trashed. The bank on Sugar Trail is a bloodbath as well, but there is less collateral there. Casualties out the ass, Vice, and I think you knew this would happen. A lot of gang members, lots of injured civilians. Some died. Property damage, everything. The ES/AS came through, we got everything short of dust bombing our own districts. I'm glad you don't think Carol deserves that fate just yet.

Vellum’s office can bleed New Canterlot dry for anti-terror funds now. I hope everyone is happy.

I had my patrol and forensics snoop around the scenes, making it look legit as you asked. Seems like it really wasn't the gangs we’ve been on about for the past few years. Can’t identify much from what the ES/AS left for us, but the dress code and some other things definitely don’t add up. You’ll shut me down when I bring this up, but it’s obvious as shit now. There’s something bigger behind all this. Some of these aren't even from here. Some others are turning up interesting faces that we thought have gone legit after the War.

On that note, I’m not blind. I can tell you want me to make more calls to my 'terrorist friends' so they can clean this city up for us. Otherwise you keep my badge. You don’t give a fuck, I know. But let me put it this way, I’ve been looking through cases, and I’ve seen some very funny things. These crystal tech freaks are only on our side as long as I'm here, and as long as you sprinkle in some bits. I'm not breaking new ground when I tell you that they won't leave town, and that we just gave them an excuse to stay here and start running ops.

We’re not cleaning the city up like this, and you know it. Especially not when you still make us spout bullshit out in public. I also know you’ve seen what I’ve seen in the Starling and Belle strings of murders. Fuck, the place me and my guys were crashing. The ES/AS being here is going to make it easy for folks to ignore, but I know you're not an idiot, so you must be connecting the dots.

I want my badge, you want me to keep making these calls, and I know things nobody else seems to want to know. Do you want this to go public?

15 Minuano Ave - 11:40 PM

Nexus lay on a bed, undressed, most of his head in bandages. Synth stood by his side, rubbing the scar on his face. He paced back and forth occasionally. When the tall, disheveled changeling opened his mouth and coughed before speaking up, the scarred one looked out the door and nodded to a mare that sat on the couch in the living room.

“So Phase got ambushed too.” Nexus tapped his hoof in frustration. “Fan-fucking-tastic. I told you we had to quit.”

Synth shrugged. “Well, you got your wish. You’re all sorts of fucked up. Boss won’t be sending you to do shit for a while from now. You’ll want to lay low, stay here. Be glad you’re not her, she’ll be in the white house for years.”

“Yeah, shit...” Nexus sighed and shook his head. “At least I get to stay home. Wander probably forgot what I even look like. Did she take it well?”

“Wanderlust is fine, Nex, she’s fine. I handled her meds after I was done patching you up.”

Nexus tried to move, but as soon as he took a step, his hooves moved to his horn and he bit his lip in pain. One of his forelegs moved sluggishly, making him sigh again and drop both limbs back on the bed.

“Fuck… I can’t let this keep happening.”

“Yeah, you can't keep having me rebuild you from scratch. It keeps happening.” Synth glanced out the window.

“Like, fuck me... She doesn’t deserve having to deal with this shit. I’m meant to provide for her, but instead half the time I’m shot up on joy that's so spiked, my face could burst. I'm ugly like a fucking corpse, too. Now I almost got killed again... and I lost my job. Urgh.” Nexus coughed and spat onto his bandages. Another attempt to get up was unsuccessful.

“You got an excuse for joy, at least. Even before Queenie did her stunt, you were already all over that stuff, living with these idiots. And after the whole... cadaver business—" Nexus groaned and covered his face up. "Well, it was that or be a complete freak. No wonder you got hooked."

Nexus rolled his eyes. “Oh, thanks for reminding me about the bitch. You’re shit at comforting.”

“Yeah?” Synth sat down and crossed his hooves. “Well, maybe you could be grateful for a sec. Just a little bit. You'd be in pieces, the both of you, if I hadnt spent five years as a doctor in Filly before all this. And if my patience wasn't utterly fucking endless.”

“Right, sure. Before all this... My medals and ribbons sure are helping right now.” Nexus gasped when a fat, orange tabby nudged his bandaged foreleg. “Synth… do me a favor, get Nemesis the fuck out of here and tell Wanderlust to handle his fat ass. I don’t need this right now.”

Synth planted a hoof on his face and lit up his horn, lifting the noisy cat and carrying him down the hallway into the living room. He shook his head, flipping the long mane out of his eyes, and stared out the window at the nighttime ocean view. Him and the other synaptic remained silent for a while, surrounded by impromptu medical equipment stained with synapse.

“Nex, you owe me five lifetimes. I’m allowed not to try very hard after I agreed to stay at your house to watch over your girlfriend and after I played surgeon with this hunk of bruises that you got turned into. I sure hope you keep in mind how much you owe me. You owe me today, you owe me for your girl, you owe me for this shit.” Synth poked at the scar across his face again. "You can start hoping I'm the one to get fucked up next, because your debts are piling up."

“Look… I’ll get moving as soon as I can. When this is over, I’ll do all the favors in the world, but for now, just… bear with me. Like, okay…” Nexus closed his eyes and wheezed through his nose. “The briefcase I took from the slits, take that, and pretend it was never full when you hand it to the boss. He should be happy. Even if their leaders lived, shit, these assholes are in a corner now. No merch, no rank.”

“Yeah. Where have I heard all this before. Right.” Synth sighed, leaning against the foot of the bed while he looked at the other synaptic. “Here’s what else you do to start paying your debt off. While you’re regenerating here on your boney ass? Drop the shit.”

“Oh for— Dude, I tried!” Nexus flinched, having moved too suddenly for his injured parts to keep up. “It’s… I… You know what, fuck the hive. Fuck all this. Fuck the Boss, and fuck the Queen. Bitch ruins my life just so I can reliably tell her ponies like cookies and hearts, and they suck at athletics.”

“Well, that’s not true anymore.”

The lanky changeling’s horn lit up and he groaned in pain. The one with the scar lifted his hoof, only to lower it back down, sighing. He turned away as a slurping noise and a weak flash emerged from the injured changeling’s horn. An agonized sigh and gulp came from him, and his body now flickered between appearances.

“That’s no good.”

“She’s more comfortable with me like this. Tell her to come in. I want—” Nexus wheezed in pain, gritting his teeth from the effort of turning fully into a pony. He now appeared again as a blonde young adult unicorn mare with a disheveled purple coat and bright, bloodshot yellow eyes. “—I want to tell her it’s fine.”

“Okay.” Synth shrugged, knocking on the door to the bedroom from the inside. “But it isn’t.”

“I know.”

-

Chapter 9: Outrun

May 21st, 1013 AN - 12:43 PM

Carol City, Equestria

Ditzy sat on a white plastic chair in front of the gazebo table. She held up her head with a forehoof, staring at the quiet waves of the ocean a short stretch of the beach away. Sweat dripped and rolled down her sunglasses, while the mild breeze ruffled her mane, as well as the pages of the book laid over her other forehoof. She retrieved it and waved lazily at her daughter, who was further down from her, not braving the ocean itself just yet, but splashing near the edge next to a couple other foals. The filly nodded and waded deeper into the water, while the mare flipped a few more pages, occasionally looking up to check on the filly unicorn.

...blaming the resultant societal and economic changes on them. The outrage was caused in no small part by the reinstatement of the vital branches of several country-wide businesses, as well as the newly established government, in what was at the time considered a suboptimal location for a new seat of power…

She huffed, wiping the sweat from her forehead, and sighed when several droplets fell on the pages of the book. Her neck craned downwards, and Ditzy breathed more and more steadily before shaking her head and perking her ears. A successful check on the filly sent her back to succumbing to the drowsy, blurry haze.

...initially starkly insisted that that the events of the Wedding War of 1002-1004 are only partly responsible for the reforms, defending the establishment of a democratically elected High Council claiming “retrospectively obvious fatal flaws in Equestria’s most basic customs and laws”…

Restrained to the two pages of the book in front of her until the sweat dried up, the mare buried her snout on an empty spot of the table, sitting still for a few seconds before letting out another sigh. Slowly, she raised her head and lifted up the sunglasses to help her eye focus on the words.

...into donning the title of "Sovereign Princess", albeit continuing many of the practices and programs established during the Council's short tenure. While public morale polls showed an improvement upon return to direct monarchy, now-Sovereign Twilight Sparkle questioned the discrepancy between approval for the Council's ideas and the Council itself…

After some more attempts at taking in the words, Ditzy finally saw the sweat evaporate, and abruptly shut the blank-covered book, startling a few other ponies next to her. Drowsily, the pegasus checked the watch on her left foreleg. She then took a wide hat out of her bag and replaced it with the book before leaving the gazebo and going out into the sunlight. The space she occupied on the bench and the table was quickly taken over by the other ponies that were hiding in the shade next to her while she was there.

Ditzy made her way to the edge of the water and waved her forehoof in the air before giving a few light splashy stomps in the almost warm ocean. Before she could get worried, Dinky squeezed herself through the swarm of foals that took up most of the shallow part of the beach.

“Mom? We’re going already?” The filly squirted a bit of water out of her colorful toy snorkel. “But I’ve only—”

The mare closed her eyes and shook her head before raising one of her forelegs to point at a joint on the other.

“Your watch is on the other leg.”

She opened her eyes and stared at Dinky with the good one. Rolling her eyes, Ditzy lowered her head and covered her face up with a hoof before repeating the motions, but this time with the legs reversed, lightly tapping the face of her watch.

“It’s not been that long, has it? I just managed to swim longer than I ever have, and now…” The filly tilted her head, sniffling and failing to make watery eyes when she was all watery to begin with. "Just ten more minutes?”

Ditzy frowned and remained firm. She shook her head and beckoned the filly back to the shore.

“Five more minutes?”

Ditzy repeated the motions again.

“Three more minutes?”

The mare took a deep breath and starkly turned away, raising her legs high and striding haughtily, head thrown far back. She departed from the filly very slowly, and within seconds she could hear a short gallop trailing after her. Sighing contently, Ditzy let herself drop into her usual posture.

“Fine, fine. It’s way too hard to swim there anyway. Everyone gets in your way. I don’t like going too far. I managed it, though! I’ll swim even farther than that one day,” Dinky told her. She trotted by Ditzy’s side as they walked among the many parasols, benches, towels, sunbathers and ice cream stands littering the beach. The mare paused and tapped her on the shoulder, smirking as she pointed with her hoof to a spot in the distance.

“What’s there?” the filly asked. She received a couple of forehoof gestures in response. “Really? Wow, it’s finally open? Can we—”

The mare interrupted her with a nod, and the two of them took off at a much faster pace, dodging the other ponies on the beach on their way to the newly decorated pier. They hurried past the various stores, cafes, and even a casino and small amusement park, heading all the way to the end where they managed to get a good spot in the queue for the oceanside boat ride.

Once they managed to get aboard, the filly leaned against the railing to stare at the resort city as the boat cruised along its beaches, while Ditzy left her side only once to take a quick look at the postcard she kept at the bottom of her bag. It depicted a quaint seaside hut surrounded by palm trees. She was about to head back and leave the postcard in the bag, but instead she shook her head and frowned, making herself read the words printed on the back of the card, as well as what little was on the now crumpled up envelope that came with it:

This note of happiness has been brought to you as part of the Equestria Delivery Free Holiday Pack Shipping promotion. Stay in touch with your friends and make sure to send them nothing but love. And don’t forget: with our service, Equestria is a wholesome unity of wonderful individuals!

Your friend writes:

The Super Highway Cruiser 6000 Deluxe Non-Convertible is the latest in vehicular technology, forged with Equestrian precision, Griffon discipline, Taurine durability and Capric sensibilities. Blow the minds of your friends and family and break the hearts of every girl in town, because once you and her are on the road, nothing stands in your way. Leave all you thought you knew behind and let these two wheels tear a rift in your reality - with a fusion of powers like this, life is never going to be the same.

If any of this sounds swell to you, write quick! Pigeons sent May 21st 7 to 8 PM get a recall crystal for free, so that you and your wheels can never be truly separated.

FROM: ________________________
TO: “Silver Lights”, 117 Tejuano Heights

She returned to Dinky’s side before the bright red stamp - a bright red circle with a star, a moon and a heart inside of it - left an imprint on the table.

117 Tejuano Heights - 7:52 PM

Ditzy trudged on the wet sand, the late evening tide splashing waves against her legs. The beach was empty, save for various pony detritus she had to avoid while making her way to a group of tall, wet crags that dominated the coast. Spotlights blazed across the night sky from atop the crags, and the bassy music made the air tremble even from this distance. She stopped directly in front of the rocks and looked up, flexing and stretching her limbs, the slightly damp postal outfit clinging to her tightly.

As the mare tightened the straps on her bag, she lowered her eye to a single bright patch on the face of the rocks. Despite the dim light of dusk, a newspaper could be seen, having been plastered over them. It formed the familiar round symbol of the crescent, star and heart. Below it were two additional symbols - a plainly drawn grey snake, and a blue letter M. The mare stared at it for a moment, then quietly took to the air, ascending along the slippery rocks, clinging to them as often as she could while remaining silent.

Soon enough, she was on level with the bar. It was a wide, two-story building with a dark, ragged exterior, some parts of it eaten by moisture and decay. The spotlights were installed on the roof, with the rest of it left bare, emitting a chaotic light show into the clear evening sky. A small rear section on the first floor lead to a platform that hung over the beach, as well as another isolated section at the front side of the bar, where multiple vehicles were parked. Ditzy took note of the one that stood out the most among the sleek, lightly glowing mini-carriages - it was a long, narrow, two-wheeled vehicle, littered with expensive ornaments, upgrades, and cosmetics of varying seriousness. She quietly leaped over the picket fence that separated the parking lot from the precipice and the back yard.

Just before she approached the vehicle, which was parked close to the first floor windows of the bar, her snout dug into her bag, rummaged around for a few seconds. The pigeon's visage sat atop her head. She breathed in and flexed her neck.

She was making her way to the bike, moving swiftly, only to stop short when a voice from within the building broke through the loud music. The pigeon crouched low and pressed up against the wall, her ears perking. One hoof carefully prepared the small, crystalline recall pendant that came packaged with her letter. During one of the brief flashes from the strobelights above, an avian claw engraving became visible on the device, as well as a pink lining.

“—already took first blood, a lotta blood, and you want to be tight-assed about this?”

“Fuck off, Suit. Or we'll go and unwind your asses. Can’t kick a shit to care about your problems, prissy boys.”

The masked mare peeked in through the window for a second as she moved along the next wall, remaining out of sight for lack of security. The ground floor consisted of a large pub area and a dance floor, the rest of the walls lined with videodromes, couches, and stools gathered into a mess of furniture, overcast by the sky polo game on the displays. The screens barely had an audience, however, as seemingly the entire contingent of the bar gathered by the stools and couches - two distinct groups, one of them standing out from the grungy decor due to the blue and white that each of them wore. In the middle, a slick, electric blue-maned white unicorn in a dark blue suit stared down a large, brutish minotaur in a dark green vest, with spiked knuckles on his massive fists and a tall spiked mohawk on his head.

“Are you fucking bullshitting me? Are you for real, you cow-brained bastard?! The fuck are you smoking? Open your eyes, we’re fucked! And after we’re fucked, so are you! You like being fucked, cow-boy?”

“I told you, Suit. I’ll be bullshitting you, down your throat, if you don’t turn away. Right now. I don't make empty promises, Major, and I ain't been eating well lately.”

The tension built between the two groups. For a moment, the pigeon could see that several of the equines - as well as a few pairs of griffons on either side - jittered and faintly sparkled with green. She paused for a few seconds, still hidden from their view. Her eye focused on the blue and white thugs that were starting to form up behind the unicorn, and her hooves trembled slightly as they gripped the windowsill. Her eyelids narrowed, and after another moment of hesitation, she turned back to the target behind her. Sighing, she quickly approached it, pulling out the recall pendant and looking for a suitable slot. An opening right next to the headlights, each adorned with decorative bull horns, seemed to be the perfect shape, and she stuck the crystal inside.

The pigeon barely had time to leap back, yanking out the pendant as well, when the chassis of the vehicle began to emit a fizzle of static. The bike seemed unaffected, while the strong scent of ozone provided fair warning. She nodded to herself, stretched her limbs, and took to the air, crashing right into a second floor window. She screeched to a halt in a room filled with more videodromes, chairs, sofas, and stools. Unlike the ground floor, however, it was filled with nearly a dozen nervous, baggy-clothed, unkempt thugs, all flailing from the shower of glass shards created by the mare’s entrance.

117 Tejuano Heights, "Silver Lights" - 8:09 PM

The tremendous racket had most of the darkly clothed gangsters stumbling out of their seats, pieces of broken glass raining down on them. The ones far enough away stared dumbstruck for a few moments, exclaiming in confusion and reaching for any blunt or sharp objects nearby, while the closest ones disappeared in a shower of red before they could properly react. All eyes in the room focused on the pigeon, some widened and bloodshot, others flickering in agitated green. The crowd could only give a cry of alarm to those below by the time three of them had already gone down. The first two got deep cuts through their throats, and the third had his neck snapped where he stood, staring in shock. Shouting and the sound of hoofsteps came from below.

One gangster armed himself with a chair and closed in on the masked killer, but the leg of another chair went right through his head, splattering sizzling green ichor on the nearby thugs. A series of swift, wet, occasionally crackling stomps rang out as the pigeon’s forehooves crushed through necks, brought recovering mobsters back down to the floor, and finished them off without pause. Within a matter of seconds, the barely armed thugs on the second floor had been reduced from ten to four. The masked mare crashed into the tightly clumped, shaking mob, avoiding hits from planks of wood and chain-wrapped hooves with singular flaps of her wings. Her body leaped, bent, and curved with speed and strength far beyond what the thugs offered in return. The four could not keep her in their field of view, resorting to blind swings and mindless dodging.

The pigeon’s blank, matte beak delivered a headbutt to one of them, making him drop his wooden plank, which the mare took and dexterously bashed the one that attempted to rush her from behind. She then threw the last one off his hooves with a sudden flap of wings, bringing him down with the strong current, which she followed up with a quick hoof to crush his throat. Her wings swished, making fleshy noises along the way, and the two gangsters that got back up were almost gutted, left with two curved knives in their chests. The blades pierced their lungs, leaving them to cough up blood on the floor.

The mare was busy stomping on the head of the one that got hit by the plank when a loud shriek came from one of the nearby doors. What remained of the half-headed thug sizzled and crackled on the floor, while his killer leaped back, anticipating an attack. It came in the form of a tall, jagged black and green form, whose echoing screech turned into a much more high-pitched and guttural one as it gained avian features, proceeding to charge at the pegasus at full speed. She had to jump out of the way several times, as the changeling appeared to suffer little from inertia, able to charge again and again without skipping a beat. By the third time they circled around the room, the changeling had gained all the traits of a griffon - a leather-bound white and brown hawk with unkempt feathers, belts criss-crossing her chest, and goggles obscuring half her face.

The griffon abused her wings as well, leading the original winger murderer on a continuous chase across the corpse and debris-filled room. By the fifth lap, two more thugs showed up at the door, taking a few wild shots at the pigeon. Green smoke trailed behind the wavering, still shaping bullets, creating thin lines in the air as they barely missed their target. The noise served as distraction for the griffon, and the masked mare met her with a broken stool to the beak, breaking it as well along with the changeling’s neck, its claws still stretching forward. A moment later, the other half of the broken stool flew toward the two identical gunslingers at the door, knocking one of them over, while the other desperately tried to back away as the pegasus zig-zagged her way to him. Two crunching, slicing noises rang out as her wings descended on both of the gunners, piercing one’s chest and another’s eye socket. She finished the former off, bashing his head in with both her forehooves, and his body erupted into greenish flame, taking the leg-mounted firearm with it.

By then, the racket below had grown to a cacophony, with incoherent screams and noises coming from all sides. The gunshots and sounds of violence masked the movements of the pegasus as she headed down the stairs. Halfway there, she almost bumped into a pair of Majors. Before they could react, she pulled a long, thin metal object from the first one’s bent leg before sending them both tumbling down with a powerful headbutt, almost denting the beak of her mask. She started bashing their skulls in even before inspecting the weapon, finding it to be a sturdy golf club. It then served to tear up several more thugs on either side of the brawl, as the murder of the first two caught some attention, but as two more bright red torrents sprayed the pegasus’ postal uniform, it was clear no one had time to focus on her - the chaos in the bar peaked as a storm of melee and gunfire.

The pigeon leaped, bashed, stabbed, and sliced all over, blood trickling from her wet uniform all over the floor, already covered with plenty of the same liquid and its green sizzling counterpart. Some of the thugs did not even know what hit them, taking sudden, strong blows to their necks from the club and falling over, some barely turned around before a wing-wielded knife entered and left their chests, and some barely managed to fight back, but the pegasus would only charge them or leap to the side and smash their heads in before moving on.

After a few more seconds of the slaughter, she broke one of the white and blue gangsters’ foreleg, dragging it out from under him with the blow. He fired off a shot from his rifle mid-fall, making a deep voice roar on the far end of the room. The white unicorn at the head of their group, who had so far been hiding behind the bar and using his telekinesis to dismember and maim the grungy Tunnel Snakes, now looked up and stared at her. The masked mare felt her wings move and quickly grabbed a darkly clothed gangster making a rush for her, shoving him between herself and the unicorn to break line of sight until she could disappear in the chaos.

“Fuck this, PULL OUT, WE’RE DONE!” the unicorn shrieked at his subordinates. He nudged an exact copy of his to his side, who quickly lit his horn. This caused half of the remaining Majors’ eyes went blank and green. That was in spite of them outnumbering and outmatching the hoodlum crowd, reduced to only a few roughed-up thugs, as well as a towering minotaur. The latter finished pounding a body into a wall with one hand, his other clumsily trying to reach a thin, long knife stuck between his ribs, while the group quickly retreated back to the entrance.

The pearly unicorn made his way to the front door, finding no trace of the pigeon from mere seconds ago. His head then snapped to the side as a lead pipe collided with it, cracking his horn and making the side of his skull cave in. He gave a gurgling scream, his voice carrying a distorted echo, while his body collapsed in a strong green flash, half of the Majors thugs dropping along with it. His copy and the remaining gangsters rushed out the door, only some of the unconscious changelings making it out with them, the rest left behind in the rush to get to the parking lot.

While the remaining Tunnel Snakes stayed in their bar, which was barely intact and filled with bodies, the minotaur rushed outside, growling at the retreating band and pulling at his mohawk. He appeared not to register when the half dozen survivors of his establishment came under attack again, going down one by one against the masked mare, the golf club snapping at the second to last one before she tossed it away, forcing the last Tunnel Snake to the ground and smothering him with her bag until the body stopped kicking. She stood back up, legs trembling from the exertion, and breathed heavily as she stared at the carnage surrounding her.

Her bad eye snapped into place as she heard a crackle of electricity, followed by the sounds of crystalline motors. Multiple squeaky whirs rang out, and the air filled with a strong smell of ozone through the broken windows. She remained still until a much more aggressive motor sputtered to life as well. Her blood-soaked forehoof reached for her front pocket, feeling up the crystal within.

When the pigeon reached the parking lot through the back entrance, the massive minotaur atop the large bike had just begun to speed after the retreating gangsters. Her gallop could not hope to keep up, and she skidded to a halt, panting in place for a moment. Then, giving herself a new running start, she took to the air above the highway, empty of even nighttime traffic safe for the violent chase below.

The air current pushed the dented, expressionless pigeon’s face in. Her bag flopped against her sides, and the occasional droplets of blood fell to the ground down below. She flew high to avoid being noticed by whoever was using the city-round highway, swooping down at times to make turns and keep track of her target. Despite the crystal tech-enhanced engines giving dizzying speed to the chase below, she managed to keep up. The imposing, fume-billowing two-wheeler was directly below, unable to catch up to the sleek crystallized carriages speeding away from it down the long, straight stretch of road.

Finally, the masked mare angled herself for a descent and went straight for the minotaur, twisting slightly as her body hurtled toward the surface. Mere moments before contact, one of her wings lashed out, launching a curved knife in the Tunnel Snake leader’s direction before she flapped her wings to gain altitude once more.

The pigeon pulled back for a moment, then carefully approached the bike again as it continued to roll down the highway, its speed turning erratic. Seeing no movement, she leaned close to the minotaur. His body lacked a curved knife sticking out of it.

Instead, the blue handle of a long, thin stiletto protruded from his side, on level with his heart and covered in thick, dark minotaur blood. His upper body rested on the dashboard, gloved hands still clutching the handles, while his hind hooves pushed down on the pedals, sending the engine mixed signals. A long streak of blood covered the rear half of the bike, and she noticed strips of his blood smeared along the highway, fresh ones forming right behind the rear wheel.

She carefully reached in and turned the gas handle down until the bike sputtered to a halt. Its rider had already been dead for several minutes.

The pegasus stared at the corpse for a while, until the stiletto began to emit a green glow and vanished moments later. Ditzy walked around him, jittering as her bad eye returned to its usual position. Moving stiffly and rarely blinking, her breath ragged, she pulled the pendant from her front pocket and stuck it into the slot. The vehicle lit up again, but the electric security measure fizzled out as the rider’s body still made contact with the bike. The engine, which was thrumming idly, revved itself back up, a soft luminescence appearing around the handles and pedals. She watched the minotaur tumble off the bike as it accelerated and made a sharp turn, driving away by itself. It took the first turn off the highway, while the claw symbol on the pendant glowed brightly.

Her breath cut off and she swiftly spun around when another engine sounded out from behind her. The sweat that had congested under her mask made a slick slurping noise as Ditzy tilted her head. Another car emerged - a much simpler carriage with lots of suitcases and duffel bags tied to its roof, all looking civilian. Its driver stepped out and stared at the bloodied, masked postal mare, who stood next to a huge, dead minotaur covered in leather and spikes.

The pony was an earth stallion, a big one, with a bright white coat. He had muscular forelegs, hidden underneath a brown jacket. A handlebar moustache sat over his lips, and his nose had a slight bend in it. They looked at one another with wide eyes, mouths hanging open. His formed words she could not hear, hers collected most of the sweat her snout was covered in. Ditzy closed her eyes, wincing as the sweat burned them, and moved to closer to the stallion, breathing in deep.

“Wait!” he barked at her, almost making her flinch. “I already know what you are.” That brought her to a halt. “Are you even listening? Can you listen?..”

Ditzy stood mere paces from the stallion, staring at him intently with her good eye, while the other jerked in place. The stallion drew in a long sigh, briefly closing his eyes.

“Okay. Hold here for a moment, I need to get my taser. You follow me? Police have arrived at the gang shootout site, stopped the fight, took the survivors in for questioning, and…” He glanced at the puddles of darkening blood on the road, and then at the minotaur it belonged to, nodding to himself with a short hum. “...and apprehended the head of the Tunnel Snakes they’ve had no luck finding for four years now. Regrettably, he died of blood loss shortly afterward. Does that… sound good? Do you understand me?”

They stared at each other for a few more tense seconds, and the stallion eventually broke eye contact. He pulled a police badge out of the pocket of his jacket. The mare noticed a large red stamp across his photograph. Behind him, in his car, there was another equine shape, sinking into the cushions of the rear seats. Ditzy looked back at the stallion and nodded.

“Good. I know how you feel, whoever you are under that mask. I just gotta do what's right, too.”

She backed away, still facing the former officer, narrowing her eyes at him as he went back to his car and retrieved a wrist-mounted taser. With her still watching, he approached the minotaur, outstretched his leg, and fired two sparkling darts with a flick of his joint. The brutish body convulsed in place for a few moments as the voltage passed through him. The stallion then moved closer and added a kick to his ringed nose with a hind leg, making a loud cracking noise. Meanwhile, the pegasus kept staring at the other pony in the car.

“She won’t say anything. Nobody will. It's not how you think anymore.”

After one final glance, Ditzy finally turned away, aiming for the beach so she could change her clothes. While leaving the scene, she heard a faint mumble from the stallion as he got back into his vehicle:

“Come on, the last boat is leaving. I’m done.”

She hopped over the railing along the side of the highway and dove into the sea, the postal outfit and mask stuffed into her bag.

***

...arrived at the shootout site in an emergency fashion, aimed to resolve the conflict between Carol City’s increasingly desperate criminal factions. The shootout was stopped, but few survivors remained for questioning, as the majority of the gang members - thirty six out of forty four - were already dead. That included notorious anarchist and vandal Road Rage, formerly wanted in all Equestrian autonomies as well as Taurine. CCPD lieutenant Flash Bang said: “The vermin are getting pretty good at exterminating themselves. If not for the obvious danger that they continue to pose to our citizens, we could as well leave it to them to get rid of crime! This is all they have been doing for the past month.” In addition…

...Engels sees little concern for the citizens of Carol City. “It is scary to think that a block away, gang members may be brutally murdering each other, let alone that they may be hiding out in your very apartment building, which CCPD, would, obviously, have to storm. Data from April and May, however, indicates a rapid decrease in violence against non-criminal members of society. So long as everyone does their job, you will have less and less to fear by the day - unless, of course, you are a criminal.” The past three months have been…

...reminds our readers that any information as to the location and current activities of the Emergency Situation Attack Squad terrorist organization are to be submitted either to our paper or directly to chairpony Vellum of the city council. The terrorists have been showing a worrying amount of activity, recklessly causing property damage in raids on multiple locations in the southwest of Carol City. Rewards have been adjusted from…

Ocean View Street - 10:17 PM

Ditzy limped slightly on her exhausted legs, dragging them on the pavement and barely keeping her bag from slipping off her back. She sealed it into a cheap plastic bag to avoid leaving a trail of blood. Taking deep breaths, her nose was filled with salty air from the ocean. The water was no longer crimson, the waves having turned dark blue.

Only streetlights and the neon signs of the few shops on this side of the street illuminated Ditzy's path. There was clearly no one else around, yet the slightest noise made her head shoot up.

The mare paused after a while, leaning against a wall to take a deep breath. Grimacing, she then lifted a hoof to touch her temple. Her half-open eye looked at the lights ahead, then wandered to the dark waves with not a hint of the orange sunset on them. Ditzy leaned harder against the wall, letting her breath stabilize. She closed her eyes, forcing the bad one to remain shut despite its constant movement. Her breath remained calm.

“Is this really working?”

Ocean View Street - 10:45 PM

The mare jumped to her hooves with a silent shriek, panting heavily and coughing a few times. She punched herself on the chest and slapped her cheeks as she scurried to wake. Her eyes opened wide, the good one scanning her surroundings, but the street was still empty. Ditzy opened and closed her mouth a few times, taking a while to stop panting, and she picked up the plastic-wrapped bag, the fabric shaping into the rough outline of an equine head. Holding her breath, she trotted quickly to the corner of the street.

Once there, she opened the nearest door and tossed her bag inside without entering.

“Same as always?” asked the unkempt blonde unicorn at the desk, her coat so ruffled it was hard to distinguish its dim purple color. The pegasus’ nod was not registered as the clerk rolled her yellow eyes and got up to collect the bag, carrying it back to the row of bulky washing machines behind the desk.

Ditzy nudged the door closed behind her as she left. Once outside, she stared past a group of loud teens on the beach, her gaze lost in the darkness over the ocean. She stood like that for a few minutes, salty breezes blowing her thinning yellow mane. There were some slurred shouts tossed in her direction, but they went quiet when the mare’s one eye turned to look in response. With a deep breath, the grey pegasus entered her apartment building and went back to Dinky.

Chapter 10: Deliverance. END OF PART 2

May 28th, 1003 AN - 96:78 AM

Packsmulle, Equestria

Ditzy stood near the edge of the water, a stiff, humid wind blowing through her short blonde mane. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, her good eye slipping shut, her bad eye forced closed as well. The smell of decaying, oily carcasses all around her intensified as the waves collided in front of her. The mare hefted the stone in her forehoof, bouncing it a few more times. She tucked it between her leg and her chest.

“We’re back again. You can talk here, you know.”

Ditzy blinked, her bad eye twitching. Her hooves stepped cautiously over the bodies of dead fish and birds that littered the shore, the piles attracting swarms of noiseless flies. Some carcasses were reduced to mere skeletons.

She moved toward the sporadically thrashing, jagged black figure that lay half-submerged in sunset-orange water, a small boat floating a few meters away from it. The figure let out incoherent, echoing, distorted noises. Its body spewed disparate green sparks. Its big, thin, carapaced visage would flicker to that of a pony for a split second, then revert. Puddles of green, bubbling synaptic liquid polluted the water around it, oozing out of the large gash on the changeling’s head.

“This was all such a long time ago. You remember well, don’t you? It’s strange.”

When Ditzy opened her eyes, she found herself on the boat. Her coat fizzled from the synapse staining it, and the rock she had used was gone. The mare’s forelegs shook, muscles quivering after the pummeling. A pile of bags lay behind her on the deck.

The moon was high.

A silent unicorn filly sat on top of the bags, glancing at the sunset over her shoulder.

In front of the boat, the orange hues of sunrise started to color the still water.

“Is it really working?”

Ditzy began to hyperventilate. Her eyes darted back and forth, often crossing each other. Her heart beat rapidly and she shook her head, a quiet, raspy gurgle leaving her throat. She beat on her chest, stumbling around on three legs, and fell off the boat. The unicorn filly looked down at her from where she sat, then turned back to the sky, rocking in place, hugging herself with her forelegs.

The mare rolled and heaved in a blurry haze. She made quiet, sibilant noises, eventually purging her stomach all over the pier, a bit of red staining the corners of her mouth. Wobbling from vertigo, Ditzy spread her wings to help balance herself in the persistent, odorous wind. Her coat, stained with blood and synapse, got clumped and damp from the sweat. Wings spread and eyes barely functioning, she stumbled along the ascending street, getting tripped by the many bird corpses surrounding her.

“This is ugly. Why do you want this? You do know, don’t you.”

Ditzy opened her irritated, teary eye. Her daughter stood up, her head turned toward the water, a small rock bouncing in her hoof. Next to her stood the much taller, bulkier, misshapen dark shape of an alicorn. It was dark enough that it nearly drowned out the blazing orange that reflected off the water, the tiling, the windows of the empty shops and the drying patches on the mare’s chest. Despite the spreading darkness, the alicorn’s wide open, toothy grinning mouth was fully visible.

“You’ve asked yourself this. Is this really working?” it said, its mouth not moving.

The mare shut both her eyes and stumbled toward her daughter, but the distance did not close. Her breath became the only sound, wheezing and quiet. She walked down winding streets, through shops, apartments, and finally reached a plaza, beyond which she could see the railings on the edge of the harbor. It was all littered with dead birds.

The smell of rotting fish emitted from beyond city limits, from the shores all around. The plaza she walked through was in disarray, vendor carts tilted over, banners torn and hanging in shreds off poles, some pieces of tile missing, some blackened as if struck by lightning, some molten and charred from intense flames. A bulky, awkward mock-up of a horned, winged changeling with its fangs out sat impaled on a pole at the very middle of it, covered in rotten fish. It wobbled in the wind, flailing its disproportionate limbs aimlessly. The only spot free of the dead birds was near it, so Ditzy gained speed, leaving pus and blood stains on the many notices and letters spread all around the mock changeling.

“Do you think this makes sense? How about this?”

She refocused her eyes, having gotten through most of the plaza, and approached the railing. The mock changeling was gone. The alicorn shape stood there. It wobbled in the wind, facing her and grinning continuously. The moon shone brightly through the orange of the sunrise, veiling more and more of the town in shadows, obscuring the desolation and the birds. Ditzy walked on to the railing.

“You feel nothing, do you? You had a goal. You didn't bat an eye. Why here then? Why this? You think this is what you’re looking for? Ponies like you need help, you know.”

Ditzy reached the railing and glanced to her side, where the alicorn’ body stood. It continued to grin at her, darkness spreading all around it, and little of her was visible now. Birds perched or lay all over her body, both living and dead.

A crane’s long, knife-like head hung over the alicorn’s, wobbling in the wind alongside hers. A pigeon sat on her neck, staring at Ditzy with dead eyes. A hawk was clinging to a leg with its talons, its head pointed motionlessly into the tile below. A vulture sat on its shoulders, peering into nowhere with its wide green eyes. A raven shifted on one of the wings, bracing itself against the wind. A pair of ducks huddled together, next to a rooster and an owl, taking up her back. An albatross was sprawled out on another wing, only making slight motions to not fall off. A magpie sat on the tip of the alicorn’s snout, tilted forward, nearly poking the pegasus’ eye out.

The more she looked at the flock covering the alicorn, the darker the skies became. When she turned away, a swarm of birds filled the air.

The moon was gone. The sun was high, bland and plain.

“You can still find something to do. You know a lot. Should you?”

The mare let out a raspy wheeze and vaulted over the railing, speeding toward the waves crashing into the rocky edges of the harbor.

“Mom?”

May 28th, 1013 AN - 09:47 AM

“Are you— oh, oh, good. Sorry, I thought you had another… uh, yeah.”

Carol City, Equestria

Ditzy shook her head, placing a hoof against it, and shifted around in the depression she had left in the couch. She then reached for a glass of water, her eyes still closed. Dinky helped by moving her hoof towards it. With a nod, the mare downed the glass and opened her eye. The videodrome buzzed and flickered in front of her, a newscaster's voice reduced to incoherent mumbling.

“You… um, dozed out. I lowered the volume. Is everything okay?”

Ditzy blinked her eyes free of the sleepy muck and cast a quick glance at the kitchen. Faint stripes of sunlight slipped into the room through the tightly closed windows, and thick, grey storm clouds obscured most of the sky. A strong wind blew outside, rocking the palm trees that lined the beach. After giving her head another shake, the mare gestured to the filly. Dinky exhaled and climbed up on the couch, leaning back.

“Hmmm… I guess we’re staying at home all day,” Dinky said. “The forecast says it’s not gonna be very good outside for a while. You don’t have to go anywhere today, right?” She leaned against Ditzy and looked at the commercials on the wide crystalline screen. For a few moments the pegasus sat still, before sighing. Her right foreleg wrapped around her daughter and brought her in for an embrace.

They sat and watched whatever broadcast was on until late noon. The mare only got up to make dinner for the two of them, staying on the couch and browsing through the channels the rest of the time. Eventually Dinky got bored and left, going back to her room. Ditzy sighed and pulled an envelope from under the thick book on the coffee table. With a twitch in her bad eye, she got it open. The letter was framed and ornamented, hoof-written as opposed to typed. The seal on the envelope was thick, red, genuine wax, the markings bearing the letters 'ED' with four shapes around them.

Dear Ditzy,

We wish to congratulate you on the enormous efforts you’ve put into restoring our little community. This town would never have been the same without you!

The years of hardship took their toll on all of us, but ponies like you are proof that Equestria can, and will, come back stronger than ever. You are therefore cordially invited to our peace convention, situated at the Opportunity Heights Manor (3 Tejuano Hgs.) Any scheduling conflicts with the concurrent Opportunity Heights East Equestrian Summit are purely accidental, and you are to proceed with your business as usual. You and your co-contributors to peace in the Carol City community will have their names and likenesses go down in history of this fine city. It's time to stop being stories and help build history.

We all fought in a War, each in their own way. We are glad you left your seashores and accepted to join us.

At the end of the day, dear Ditzy, remember: with our service, Equestria is a wholesome unity of wonderful individuals! This is a victory that nobody can take from us. You can expect opposition, but we trust you know not to leave anypony ignorant. Go in and take Opportunity Heights by storm, as you always have. We expect to hear of you on the news!

The main event begins at 11 PM. We expect your arrival before 10:30 PM. Look for your friends: Rooster, Owl, Duck 1, Duck 2. Dress discretely. This is where your paths cross.

Best wishes,
Red Stamp
Assistant Manager, EQUESTRIA DELIVERY SERVICE CLIENT SUPPORT

She left quietly that evening, having packed her bag with her suit, mask and knives. Dinky decided to watch videotapes for the night, and she sleepily waved goodbye as her mother left the apartment.

3 Tejuano Heights - 10:22 PM

Ditzy trudged carefully on the wet slope, occasionally squinting her good eye to catch a glimpse of the large, sprawling, well-lit mansion up above. An umbrella quivered over her head, barely held in place with the tight grip she kept on it with her teeth. Instead of following the slippery tiles that led straight up, she progressed along a wide path that curved around the elevated rock formation, with the mansion standing on the very edge. The rain pattered on the thin palmtrees, making noise and reducing visibility. Regardless, Ditzy remained alert, eye constantly scanning her surroundings.

The mare was about to round a corner when she noticed a blocky motorized pizza delivery carriage, its engine running as it sat on a wide outcropping. It was parked in the same direction she was headed, and the tracks leading to its position were fresh. The mare stood still, waiting a minute or so to see if there would be any motion around the cart, and for the occupants to give any signs of life. Faintly, she could hear some chatter and shuffling within the vehicle, barely audible over the rain as it drenched the location.

Holding her breath, she crept up to the rear doors of the carriage, coming to a halt each time the conversation within heated up.

“You guys had like a week to prepare for this. What stopped you from fixing the damn cart?”

“I’ve been telling him for weeks. It's a no, you know how he is. Besides, unlike the rest of you, I have a job.”

“Then tell him to go outside and just fucking do it. He’s the only one who’s not bothered, apparently.”

“Guys, stop fighting over nothing. This is really not that big a deal. It's all fair, they got the cart, we got the goods. Just go outside and give it a kick.”

“Right… and he’s just going to sit here and stare at the moon? Fuck’s sakes...”

Ditzy stood near the doors, waiting for a lull in the argument. Eventually, she knocked her forehoof against the worn metal a few times. The chatter inside immediately went silent. Ditzy's limbs tensed up.

After a couple of heartbeats banged in her ears, the click of the lock rang out, and the doors creaked open. Her nose wrinkled as an odd stench burst forth from the interior. Inside was a group of disheveled ponies gathered around a pile of duffel bags, various empty bottles and litter strewn about on the floor around them.

“Uh... huh,” one of them, a green unicorn stallion with a short blonde mane, said quietly. “There something we can do for you, lady?”

A mare who sat to his side, an earth pony with nearly identical features, lightly jabbed the stallion in the side.

“Sorry, ma’am. Awful rain tonight. Maybe you should go home.” The green mare was pressing up against a sheathe that contained a large, wide rectangular object. The stallion covered his face with a hoof, huffing through his nostrils. There were two more ponies, who sat in the front half of the van, gesturing to each other. One of them, a male vanilla colored unicorn with thick, long red hair and a beard, glanced over his shoulder and gestured to the earth mare.

Ditzy blinked, unmoving, as all eyes fixed on her. The occupants were surprised, but showed no signs of being agitated by her presence, and the mare near the door even waved at her to step inside.

“Needed to get some air?” she asked with a smile.

“No bird likes to just stay in its cage,” the stallion next to her added.

“Yeah, now that you mention it... seen any pigeons lately?” the mare asked.

The red-maned stallion fixed his bright green eyes on Ditzy. The pony in the passenger seat remained motionless, staring through the drenched windshield.

The mare nodded slowly in response, tapping her bag. The green unicorn shrugged and scooted aside to give her room to sit down. The moment she did, he closed the door behind her. A pair of dog tags swung off his neck as he wrestled with the back door.

They stared each other down silently for a few more seconds before the younger ponies all reached for the pile of bags.

“So, Pigeon, huh?” the green mare said. “Welcome to the club. I guess this takes care of rendezvous.” She rubbed her temples and smirked. “Duck One.”

“Duck Two,” the green stallion next to her said.

“Owl,” the red-maned stallion at the front said. “And Rooster,” he added, pointing a hoof to his side. “You’ll get along. He doesn’t talk much.”

They remained silent for a while as the mare set down her bag and looked around. The cart gave shelter from the elements and seemed to be in working order, as the engine was left on idle. The four empty bags were discarded on the floor, while the uniforms were laid out on the seat next to the green mare. She retrieved her own uniform and mask, putting a plastic bag and an umbrella in their place.

“We’re what’s left then?” said Duck Two. “The last Delivery ponies standing? Everyone else went belly up?”

“I don’t think so,” Owl answered. “I've been reading the news these past few weeks. We’re not the first big hit like this, they’re just blaming everything on those... on ES/AS. I guess they just don't learn." He sighed and pressed a button on the dashboard to turn on the windshield wipers. “Still, I can't confidently say we're not the last.”

“Were there any others at all?” Duck One added. “It’s always been just the four of us. I mean, who else can do what we do? I never bothered to find out.”

Ditzy tilted her head and gave a small huff. Blinking a few times, she raised her hoof to make a gesture, but stopped herself halfway through. The pegasus hung her head and spread her wings to make sure her knives were securely in place, which gathered stares.

“Hm… so you’ve done this before, right?” Duck Two asked.

Ditzy nodded. Tilting her head, she scanned everyone with her good eye. The Ducks looked at each other, raising eyebrows. One looked Two and subtly pointed at the tags hanging off her neck, to which Two curtly shook his head in response.

Eventually, she shrugged and raised her chin, poking at her throat with the tip of her hoof. Owl turned to Rooster and whispered something, which made the pony shuffle out of the shadows. He was an orange stallion with faded yellow hair and glassy blue eyes. Him and Ditzy stared at each other for some time.

“He knows sign language better than I do,” Owl told her. “Sign him where you’ve been. We don’t want to fuck this up.”

The pegasus complied, making a series of gestures to briefly recount all of her previous missions. Rooster stopped her halfway through and nodded at Owl, adding a few gestures of his own. The bearded unicorn got back into his seat and gunned the engine to keep it hot.

“Good. Knives and wings is good. Shield, magic, assault, now air too... Wish the likes of us got to have medics. Anyway...” Owl said. “The plan is simple. We go in at ground level, you enter through the third floor. Any of their muscle is either outside or screwing about up there. We’ll cause a ruckus, while you take out as many as you can. Then we get to the fourth and find the VIPs.”

Duck One and Two each pulled out a box from under their seats in the back of the van. They contained the four killers’ masks - two identical, green-headed ducks with red 'I' and 'II' numerals on their foreheads, a wrinkled rooster mask, and an owl mask, torn in the middle to make room for the oculi and filter of a gas mask.

“We do this, and the world’s a better place. For real this time.” Duck One said. She pulled on her mask and unzipped the sheath of the long object next to her. It was a big, aged riot shield with plenty of scars and dents, as well as several spikes attached to the front side, held by bolts and duct tape. Her partner grunted as he fitted his horn through a hole drilled above the forehead of his mask, and the appendage sparkled to life, elevating a pair of small crystal firearms from his bag, their hoof straps missing and their barrels hollow, fitted instead with short iron rods within glass containers. “We’ll stomp the roaches and smoke the rats. Show them we still have teeth. That we don't need to dust-bomb the place and bring the hoof down on normal ponies to fix this place.”

“Yeah, we ain't the ES/AS. No. They can't hide from us. We have them to the wall.” Duck Two turned to Ditzy, who had gotten up from her seat as well. “Leave none of them alive. The ponies in there, they're worse than the bugs. They let it get this bad. Right, Pigeon?”

“Yeah, you should go in first,” Owl said. “We’ll go in once the light show starts, that should give you a chance to breathe.” He pressed on the accelerator again, revving up the engine further. The mare got up and reached for the door handle, only pausing when Owl spoke up again.

“Don’t hold back. Don’t worry about casualties. We’ll need them if we want everypony to see... to understand. It’s tough, but it’s the right thing to do. We’re making the world a better place.”

“Yeah,” Duck One added. “Just be careful. No one here’s got a death wish.”

Ditzy nodded and left the cart, spreading her wings to rise through the turbulent air. She aimed for a large window on the third floor, while the others started squabbling again. One of them jumped out and delivered a swift buck to the engine block and the cart roared as it took off, quickly driving up the spiraling path toward the guarded mansion.

3 Tejuano Heights, Opportunity Heights Manor - 10:48 PM

The mare with the pigeon mask slipped in through the wide open window, stepping as quietly as she could on the thick red carpet, droplets of rain falling from her coat and staining the walls and expensive furniture. One of her wet hooves smeared a bright red symbol on an exposed section of the floorboards, the paint still wet.

The floor was designed as a living space, with long corridors connecting lounges and living rooms, most of them vacant. The luxurious spaces formed a large, hollow rectangle around an open chamber with a circular stairwell in the middle. She found dozens of side passages along the way, the walls adorned with exotic murals, and the floor below was visible from the walkways leading to the stairwell. Even from the corner where she had entered, the mare could hear the noise from below - deep, bassy music emitted by loudspeakers, and a steady drone of various indiscernible sounds.

She moved swiftly, coming up to a sharp turn in the corridor, where she nearly ran face first into a teal mare dressed in white, an earpiece on her head and a security baton bulging from under her suit. The pigeon rammed her hoof into the mare’s throat from below, toppling her and allowing for a quick stomp on the face, spraying sizzling green all over the carpet.

The masked mare quickly moved on, coming into contact with only a small number of patrols. The guards were a mixture of Caballeros and Majors, all patrolling in tight, attentive formations. She managed to dispose of at least three more until the rest were alerted - she choked the first to come by, twisted another’s neck, and ran a third one’s eye socket through a coat rack as she swept the rest of the floor. Each one flickered and sizzled, turning into drone husks.

The alarm sounded when she ran into her fourth victim - a tall, blonde maned, blue unicorn, who walked carefully along one of the walkways, squinting at the first drone’s corpse in the distance. He only noticed the pigeon when she stepped right in front of him, only having a moment to gasp before his legs were swept out from under him. She bashed his head against the railing to silence him, leaving the brightly illuminated convention below unawares. His eyes sparkled a bright green and his form flickered as well, revealing a synaptic changeling moments before the power of the mare’s blows separated his horn from his head.

The mare was about to make her way to the stairs when she heard multiple pairs of hooves galloping down the sprawling corridors, some of the furniture and artwork falling victim to the stampede along the way. At the same time, the music and chatter below quieted down.

Instinctively, she broke her way into the closest room by bucking the door and leaned against the wall, listening for her pursuers. Her good eye scanned the rich living space for any potential weapons, but her search was cut short. A bright flash from a wave of energy rushed through the chamber, making the mare's hair rise briefly. She heard someone barking orders and immediately broke her way into the adjacent apartment, abandoning the now useless hiding spot. Timing it, she opened the door right into a guard’s face, immediately following that up by smashing a nearby vase on his skull.

The drone did not come alone, being supported by two more changeling guards who did not even bother with disguises. The pigeon’s masked head slammed into one of their chitinous skulls, shoving him into his partner to make them both drop. She locked her hooves together to deliver the killing blow, only to hit the floor instead as both drones quickly recovered and rolled aside. She narrowly dodged an electric baton to the face from one, and had to leap into the other before he could get a shot off with his gun.

here was a much brighter green light flashing in his eyes as she knifed him between the ribs, then kicked off him to ram into the melee guard and toss him against the door. She stepped on his throat before he could get back up, and his horn gave off a weaker glow right after the wet crack rang out. There was a transparent, thin trail of green smoke heading off downwards, off the ramp.

The pigeon took into the air, only for a second, and dove for the opposite side of the circular opening in the middle. In so doing she dodged several shots, as the mobster guards from that side had already tracked her down. Galloping down the corridors on the other side, however, the masked mare found herself in front of an entire firing group of four, complete with another blonde blue unicorn behind them, glaring at her.

Within the second it took for him to start concentrating his magic on her body, she leaped into the air andswiftly got her hind hooves in front of her, bucking the wire of a crystalline chandelier clean off. The pigeon landed in the mess of disassembled, heavy crystal blocks, and grabbed the blonde stallion by his head, pulling at his mane, and plunged his face into a sharp shard of crystal, panting rapidly, heartbeats in her ears.

The rest of the guards, already stunned and lacerated, suddenly jerked and opened their mouths, their eyes going dark for a second. A series of incoherent noises came from each of them, changing spasmodically in pitch and volume, and their bodies twisted sharply, blank eyes open wide, almost colorless, more of a bluish hue than the toxic changeling green. By when the mare was done finishing them off with the convenient sharp objects around her, only the last one regained the usual blank green glow in his eyes, which the pigeon forcibly gouged out, staining her coat and suit with irritant synaptic liquid. When she was done, there were multiple vapor trails drifting out of the husks of her victims, all coalescing into one and drifting in some direction.

Her breath stabilized in time for her to hear a loud crashing noise, followed by metallic screeching, followed then by panicked screams, some instantly turning to panic and agony. Her nose, flooded with the body odor pooling within the mask, caught the scent of charred pony coat and flesh. She turned around to continue sweeping her floor, which appeared to have the largest contingent of guards in the manor.

Having taken a few steps, the masked mare was forced into a swift backwards dodge. There was a crouched avian figure right in front of her, a long-necked crane, who appeared without any of her senses catching on. The masked mare had enough space to dodge a long, thin stiletto that the griffon jabbed towards her neck with its long arms. It hissed with an echoing tingle and disappeared in a soft green flash, leaving behind only a blurry silhouette in place of the white crane in a sleek white suit, which previously stood out among the pinks, browns, blacks and blues of the nearby corpses. After lingering around for a short time, anticipating an attack that never came, the pegasus moved on.

She continued sweeping the floor occasionally running into search parties of four, each of which, devoid of a unicorn of their own, were swiftly dispatched in the usual manner of choking, stomping, stabbing and neck-twisting. The changelings among the guards were disoriented, frequently failing to respond to her presence while their pony cohorts were being murdered. However, different search parties began mixing in, approaching from other levels - slower, more apt groups of two bludgeon-bat guards and two gunners, predominantly brown, pink and yellow Caballeros mobsters in formal suits. These parties cast a contrast on the blue and white guard contingent, who were significantly more limp and delayed in their actions, comprised mostly of changelings.

The mare exercised more caution in dispatching the livelier, more agitated gangsters - she successfully laid ambush on a group, appearing from behind a corner, disposing of both gunners with her wings, leaving knives in the backs of their necks. The melee guards at the front spun around, but failed to hit her before their throats were pierced. The impact lacked the crunch and crackle of chitin, with sprays of red staining her uniform. Of the four knives the pegasus pulled out and quickly reinserted into the prepared slots, only one was covered in green ooze.

She passed by the circular stairs again, risking a look at the floors below. A wall of flame rushed for the row of tables and banners that were visible from up there. A bellowing, crackling roar was followed by the sounds of stone being crushed and heavy impact against wooden walls, making her stop for a moment. Not having found entry to the fourth and final floor yet, she looked back to the corpse-filled maze of rooms on the third floor and rushed downstairs to where most of the changeling survivors from her level disappeared to. The green, smokey trails emitting from their corpses were visible along the path she took.

The mare was briefly stunned upon having gone downstairs, entering a wide, spacious, column and table-filled presentation hall on the second floor. The miasmic odor of burning synapse, charred tile and scorched flesh permeated the air, while the formerly cyan illumination was overshadowed by an altogether purplish smoke. The music was warped, the loudspeakers choking on notes and beats. Anguished, panicked screams came from the surrounding halls.

She turned around, blinking her eyes forcefully to get through the noxious haze, and nearly walked into the crane, who appeared where only a layer of smoke was last time she blinked. Instinctively backing away, the pigeon found herself bumping into another avian form - a shorter, more muscular one. She reflexively sidestepped, but before even finishing the move, the mare registered the griffon abruptly falling over, flashing green. A dislodged piece of rebar had been tossed against her head, causing it to leak liquid that alternated between green and red before settling on green.

The pegasus had to hop side to side a couple more times as the bigger griffon, a raven in formal dress with tailcoats and bowtie, wasted little time in attempting to skewer her neck. His beak and his sword were recognizable, only the uniform being different, and several ornaments on the sword appearing out of place. His breath reverberated slightly as huffed through the smoke-filled air.

She had to dedicate all of her attention to his rapid stabbing motions, retreating at risk through the destroyed presentation hall. He advanced with quick, leaping motions, switching between being on all fours and a bipedal stance, whichever favored the next strike. Eventually, the pegasus tripped on a large, sizzling corpse of a synaptic, its bovine disguise half-formed. She heard a blade swish through the air and make a metallic ping on a column, right where her neck was a moment before. Her toppling over left the raven temporarily distracted, allowing her to lunge from below, sending a blade into the griffon's chest. She then launched herself off the ground to pounce on him, crushing the smooth, beaked head under her locked hooves, covering herself in more rashing synapse than before. His body flickered back to the raven's default jacket before reverting to its synaptic form, bleeding green on the floor.

Across the chamber, Rooster was pummeling a female Caballero unicorn's head into the floor, staining her pink suit with blood. Not far from him was the broken-necked crane changeling's husk. There were numerous other fresh bodies in the vicinity, matching the amount that appeared to have withdrawn from the mare's floor. Stringy green trails webbed together, disappearing into an emptier part, obscured in smoke in shadow.

Ditzy got back up and moved on through the devastated hall. A pillar of flame flashed a short distance ahead, with a new howl penetrated the thin walls. She reached a smashed set of double doors, designed with a gate-like appearance. Before she could push through them, there was a bright green flash from the corner of the hall. Emerging from there was a lumbering minotaur shape, covered excessively in dangling trinkets that flashed and melted as it roared, his voice switching through pitches and outright different voices. There was a stairway behind him, illuminated now by the flames that covered the changeling.

Giving her head a brief shake, the pegasus headed for the door-gates nonetheless. Along the way, she gave Rooster a nod and watched him rush off to the other half of the hall, where sporadic gunshots and quick, brief yelps followed.

She entered swiftly to avoid anything else that could come from the stairway. As the pigeon entered through the doors, she was immediately given an opportunity, bashing her head against a flickering brown unicorn, who was trying to stumble towards the doorway. Having him on the floor, the mare saved her strength by dragging him face-first into a brightly burning chair, letting go once the flame set fast on him, his goatee fizzling away first, and then the rest of the unicorn visage. Chairs made up most of the furniture in this room - six rows, separated by a carpeted lane she entered upon, with a pedestal at the far end, backed by an inactive videodrome display.

A comparatively small unicorn figure stood behind the pedestal, the reflections of the flames in the room flickering in the oculi of his mask, the tip of his horn still smoldering. A pair of decaying minotaur husks lay either side of him, and he had a knife in his forehoof, currently stuck in one of their skulls, with him attempting to pull it out. Owl glanced at Ditzy as he got his leg free, and sped off past her. The pigeon cast one last glance at the rows of chairs, crowded with corpses of both ponies, many of them richly dressed civilians, and changelings, speeding to follow him through the columned hall.

Rooster had gone through a similar pair of double doors, one of them hanging off the hinges, a massive indentation in its middle. Owl lagged behind, nearly tripping on the charred pony corpses, his breathing audible to the mare even from a distance, as she neared the chamber beyond the door-gates. Choosing to sweep in through the intact door, she immediately moved to the edge of the hall. It was large, filled with statues of ponies and changelings in various uniforms, a high ceiling and a fountain in the middle, bearing a star at its top. Numerous Majors lay all over the floor, their legs and necks bludgeoned.

The mare's hoofsteps were heard by a pair of surviving gunslingers in dark pink suits - one of them merely caught a glance of the pigeon before she launched herself towards them. Their shots went wide, having been fired ahead of where she moved, before plunging in their directions. Several of the manor's stained glass windows shattered as the masked mare made impact, knocking one over using the other's body, before headbutting him as well, sending the brown stallion to the floor. She heaved and pulled at his gun leg, forcing it into the other gunslinger's abdomen. Her hoof stepped onto one of its joint, causing a wet crunch and making it fire, bursting the other mobster's now-chitinous stomach open.

The owner of the leg screeched in pain as the recoil rattled even more of his now broken bones. The mare then picked him up by the neck and drowned him in the bubbling mess that his changeling partner’s belly had become. By then, Owl had entered through the door-gates. Ditzy turned back, looking at him as he stared from behind the oculi of the mask. The stallion emitted a low, muffled chuckle.

Beyond a row of marble statues, Rooster was backing away from a shambling, large, bluish-grey figure in a white suit. Even from that far away, the mare could see the intense sparkling of the multitude of rings on its huge hands - the ones that weren’t covered by sizzling green liquid. The figure got slower and slower, letting out a distorted mooing sound, and eventually fell flat on the ground, its horns digging into the lush carpet. Around it were bodies of yet more Majors, some of them retaining their natural coats, comm beads blinking bright red from the ears of some. Most had either signs of severe bludgeoning, or their own weapons, even blunt ones, lodged into their mouths and chests.

Rooster and Owl glanced each other for a moment, then at her. The former leaned against a blood-stained statue to gesture to her and point his hoof down, then wave it in the air around his head. The pigeon nodded and gestured in response, pointing to where the stairs in the corner of the main hall were. Loud, thumping sounds and more stone crushing could be faintly heard from below, along with several shrill screams. Rooster and Owl both pointed down, storming out of the ornate hall, Owl igniting his horn along the way.

As the mare went to follow them, she stomped on the head of one last drone as it tried to crawl away. Raising her head, the pigeon came face to face with an entanglement of the green trails, which joined together, spiraling, much more defined near where the drone had been crawling - an empty section of the wall, a blank space between two of the statues. While the drone's chitinous carapace broke under her blows, its eyes shone brighter than usual at its last moment, turning cyan very briefly.

Blinking the sweat off her eyes a few times, the mare left the other two masked ponies behind, taking a closer look at the empty section. It was devoid of tapestries or murals, a relatively blank space compared to the rest of the mansion, even the other spaces between statues. The pigeon shook her head, turned away, and grabbed a big, gilded goblet that stood on a nearby intact table. She bashed it against the smooth surface, which resulted in a green spark emerge among the cracks. Her breath came out raspy, wheezing, as her foreleg swung sideways against the wall, the rest of her body stiffening to stay balanced.

The pegasus paused for a second, swiveling in place, when a noise came from behind the wall. It was a dull, distorted hum. The mare’s body jerked and shook, eyes blinking incoherently, pupils widening and shrinking back down. She thrashed her head, tossing around the sweat that had pooled under the mask, making it stream down onto the stained, torn postal uniform. Her foreleg continued to bash and probe the wall, while her hind legs shuddered.

After a few more hits, the wall disappeared, emitting a crackling sound that drowned out the fiery cacophony in the rest of the mansion. In front of her was an implausibly large, bland chamber, also filled with statues, appearing a mirror companion to the one she just left. It was unfinished, scaffolds surrounding the incomplete, dusty statues of five mares along the walls. Where the fountain stood in the other hall, was a singular statue depicting two alicorns joined together, with their forehooves outstretched.

The entire hall was swarming with changelings, a bright, radiating synaptic standing on top of the alicorns' joined hooves, his mane swinging in the wind created by the green vortex that poured out of his horn. It was where the green trails were heading towards.

“You’ve been discovered. Enough with the circus performance!”

She blinked as the figures all spoke the same words in unison, their voices distorted, following the lead of the long-maned synaptic. The maelstrom channeling from his horn flickered with each syllable, occasionally sparkling cyan. The entire rest of the changelings were still up until then, knelt in an identical position around the statues, only a small few coming to life with their eyes no longer bursting with bright green light.

The lead changeling shouted, his words not being echoed this time. The pigeon dashed behind one of the massive statues, which were set up in a circle, facing each other. Her legs carried her to a whole clump of variously clothed drones, and she lunged into them. They offered little to no resistance as she broke their heads in and shoved their bodies in front of incoming gunfire from the far side of the hall. Their mouths were open wide, emitting green vapor, and their eyes were pulsating brightly. She dispatched a group of six, leaving behind puddles of brightly glowing, bubbling liquid behind, and she began to stalk the next group, briefly taking cover behind another statue.

There ceased to be words, as her brain and spine reverberated at the discordant feeling of magic gathering in the air. More and more changelings became active as the mare dispatched another group, putting the sturdy goblet to a deadly use, saving her knives. Some of the changelings from the dazzled crowd were rising and moving sluggishly, trying to corner her. Nearly all of them were synaptics, clad in black vests and ties, complete with white shirts, much like the one on the central statue. Briefly, she could see entire groups of non-equine forms before they slipped out of view, seeming to wear the same attire. The equine ones who remained set their horns alight, drowning out the unpleasant, electric, fleshy sounds that began to emit from various parts of the chamber.

The synaptics in vest-and-tie uniform, while they illuminated their horns with combat magic, remained dazed and uncoordinated. Rather than attack them directly, the mare leaped from cover to cover, occasionally coming close to being caught in the crossfire of green lightning. The synaptics poured more and more destructive energy her way, which the mare drew into groups of entranced drones. They ended up immolated by their own kin’s pillars of scorching green flame, leaving them a gooey mess while the mare dodged behind the next statue.

With a steadied breath, the pegasus flipped around and threw her goblet leg right in the face of an avian changeling, who was still halfway into the process of forming the crane’s visage. The metal cracked the chitin on what was forming to be a beak, making the creature scream while it dodged the next blow and moved out of sight. The pigeon anticipated an attack and turned around rapidly to stab in its direction with her wing. A fully-formed magpie towered over her, barely fazed by her blades as he swung his hammer.

She quickly took to the air and dove into the next group of drones, bolts of energy tearing through the air where she had been moments ago. Her fore and hind legs worked mechanically as she dispatched the entranced, unmoving drones, some of them Majors, some Caballeros, some civilians - businessponies and security guards. No further attacks came in the meantime, however, which made her glance at her would-be pursuers.

A group of at least ten bovine and avian changelings stared her down, with most having assumed their forms and in place to shield a pair of synaptics, who were shuddering as their disguises were being overwritten with the visage of a blonde, blue unicorn in a white suit. The pigeon kicked a mindless drone toward the congregation and dove behind the nearest statue, getting closer and closer to the scaffolding that the apparent leader was standing upon.

She then tumbled to the ground as one of the newly formed Majors unicorns grabbed her exposed hind leg. Coming in brief eye contact with the long-maned changeling, she was nearly blinded by the strength of the green light. Only with a rapid, strong flap of her wings was she able to dart out of the grip, shortly before a raven changeling descended on her position, his rapier aimed at the spot where her head had been.

“You… had one… job!” a loud voice boomed through the hall, nearly sending her to the floor again while she ran for the scaffolds. It was several voices in one, a dominant masculine tone distinguishable by an accent, the others sounding off as aftershock echoes.

At least a dozen simultaneous, piercing screeches filled the room, and for a few seconds, all sound disappeared, replaced with a hollow ringing in the mare's ears. The maelstrom grew unstable, seeping into the ceiling, and from there, forming into tendrils that dug into the walls and the floor. It flickered for a moment, and as the voice roared distantly, the magic nearly fizzled out.

The synaptic pursuers fell over, their eyes and mouths stretched out, letting out clouds of green vapor. The mare herself was briefly knocked on her rump, her stomach heaving. The griffon, as well as multiple other non-pony changelings, was stretched out on the floor, thrashing violently as their bodies flickered between different shapes and proportions.

She was up a few seconds later, casting a look at the three additional groups of mindless drones, all of them leaking vapor as well. Overhead, the vortex had nearly achieved full power again, if not becoming stronger. After a moment of deliberation, the pigeon launched herself onto the scaffolds, giving a low hiss as she worked her stiffening wings.

Biting her tongue under the mask, she scaled the statue, which was at least twenty meters in height. Her legs had to carry her all the way, while her wings were all but limp, with only three knives left sheathed within them. Just as she reached one of the alicorns' flank, she winced from a series of blasts showering her with debris, as some of the changelings below had regained control, firing off weak bolts of energy. More and more became active every second, while the mare avoided a curving pillar of flame by climbing onto the back of the pony she had been scaling.

Her hearing was starting to recover, allowing her to catch the crackling of the conflagration. Spreading her wings to help balance, the mare made her way toward the changeling that had been standing on the tip of the statue, where the alicorns’ forehooves joined together. Behind her, she could hear wings, and the base of the statue crackled and shuddered as heavy bovine punches and hammers rattled the foundation.

Flexing her neck, the mare went for the glowing synaptic, who struggled to keep standing as the vortex channeled from his horn, creating visible recoil. The light coming from all of his orifices and the synapse maelstrom was almost blinding, more cyan than green. Proceeding with her eyes shut, the masked mare reached out for him with her forelegs. Getting her wings to do another flap, the pegasus threw herself forward, closing the distance and flinging him downwards.

A booming explosion was set off, both from the changeling's body and the disrupted spell itself, forcing her to cling to the statue. She did not hold on for long - the massive slab began to give out under her. Stretching her exhausted wings, the pigeon darted downwards, gliding towards the center of the hall to the best of her ability.

All around her were dim, spent changeling husks. Landing in a pile of lifeless drones, the mare got back up only to stumble, unable to keep her balance. She landed next to where the lead synaptic landed after she threw him off.

Letting out the breath she had been holding, the masked mare fell on her side, limbs going limp.

She looked at what remained of the synaptic. Her good eye gazed, half-closed, at the mashed snout, one half shattered like glass against the floor. Clumps of long, dark green hair obscured most of the thick, protruding face. The one surviving eye was crossed with an long, aged scar in his carapace.

Occasionally, the form of the fallen synaptic would flicker, shifting into what distantly resembled a badly mutilated burly brown earth pony. Various items would spawn all over the stallion's body - a medical mask, a white gown, a pair of surgery goggles. At one moment, Royal Guard armor began to form over his body, fizzling out almost instantly. The mare's head tilted.

The tie and vest he wore were persistent whenever the changeling's true form appeared. Also genuine was the bottle of green vials that rolled out of his pocket, spilling its contents all over the tarnished floor. His eye moved side to side, changing shape as the changeling’s body compensated, futilely, for the grievous damage.

The mare’s mask moved as she sat down, her mouth coming open wide. She made raspy, wheezing noises, forcing the pigeon’s beak to nod, before pausing abruptly, no longer breathing. The mare rose mechanically from where she lay and set herself upright on her legs, head slowly fixating on the crippled synaptic. Her forehoof stretched out and smacked the stunned changeling’s intact cheek. Her bad eye twitched and straightened itself to stare right at him. His unfocused iris came in contact with hers. As he moved his head, the other eye became visible, only a half of it remaining, the chitin and synapse congealing to try and repair the damage.

“The… the fuck else do you want, you…” he mumbled, half of his fangs gone. Her good eye, orbit twitching, stared right through his. The mare’s neck tilted, eyes continuing to drill through his. The stiff wings on her back stood at attention, flapping rigorously in tune with her rising breath.

“Feral… fucking… nutcase. What?.. I… Just let me…” the changeling mouthed, glaring at her through her stained mask. His horn flickered with inept synapse, and his eyes slowly lost their glow, becoming more similar to a pony's, the slit pupils becoming more round as his body fought the damage. “What, you… want to know what we were doing?.. You postal fucking loon... Want answers? Wanna... wanna know where this is going? Well— Fuck you.”

The half-faced synaptic gurgled with discordant laughter, until he suffered a bubbling coughing fit. By when he was done, the mare’s head tilted back up, but her eyes still drilled him, twitching and unblinking.

“Feeling lost, bitch?.. How's... how's it feel, spree-killing like that... huh, pony?”

With a vigorous stretch, the pegasus’ body surged and she bashed her forehoof against the featureless concrete floor to the side of his head. He wheezed with laughter in response, his pupils rolling back, but her other forehoof gave him another smack on the face, and he was brought back to stare at her, grinning with what remained of his mouth. The mare’s body jerked, her head twitched. Slowly, she leaned back to sit on her hind hooves, removed the pigeon mask.

Taking a raspy breath of ozonous, dust and sweat-filled air, she lowered her head over his. Their eyes came in contact again. Her bad eye shook in all directions, swelling and growing bloodshot.

“What... old lady?.. You look... you look like shit. What about your... your face?”

Ditzy was completely motionless for a few seconds. The only movement was from the posthumously twitching changeling bodies, and from the heavy breathing of the injured one in front of her.

“What’s… what’s the po—”

His words were interrupted as the Ditzy’s right forehoof came down on his neck. He looked at her, and she placed her left forehoof on her defunct left eye. Then she withdrew the right forehoof, and drew a line on her throat, highlighting a subtle, jagged scar. Then, completely silent, she went back to staring at him with wide, unblinking, reddening eyes.

“Got... got charades on your flank, pony?”

Ditzy’s left forehoof submerged itself into what remained of the changeling’s left eye, causing a quiet wheeze to come out of him. His broken, slowly dissolving body arched. She took it out before it reached too far. The synaptic contorted in pain, heaving and gurgling.

“WHAT? F— FFFUCKING WHAT???”

Ditzy’s head tilted, her ears flicking. Then they began twitching, and so did her body. The synaptic let out a small puddle of barely steaming liquid out of his dissolving mouth. His moaning became less and less pony-like.

“H… heh. Heh. Oh... oh f-fuck me... Crazy don’t… fucking die, huh? Want a… take two?” He lifted his liquifying, barely equine face to stick the remnants of his snout into hers. The wreck of the changeling’s body creaked audibly as it struggled to support him being upright. “Heh... he was— right, for once... You're late, postal bird.”

The changeling’s battered body was only kept together by vest, shirt and tie, losing more and more of its black, jagged mass to compensate for the fatal damage. It remained upright, however, doing its best to grin at her as the entity’s cranial cortex lit up faintly inside its jagged, chitinous skull. Ditzy’s head twitched, tilted, mouth staying open still, and her eyes slowly closed one by one. Then, she began to bash against the crippled changeling with her forehooves locked together, wings fluttering sporadically.

Her hooves came down on his body again and again, leaving the abdomen pulp, the limbs twisted and liquifying, entire portions alternating between gelatinous green ooze and viscous, red, slimy organs. She pounded and maimed the changeling, utterly silent, without pause, all of her limbs joining into the relentless bashing. Her chest was still, her leg and wing muscles bulged from under the coat, and her eyes were locked open. Her mouth opened and closed, forming noises that came out as sibilant, incoherent whispers.

Finally, all that remained relatively solid was the half of his head. A single eye, crossed by a scar, stared out to her. Her own threw itself open and glared deep into it, her mouths contorted and open, just like what remained of his. The pupil drew backwards, after which his blank, dead eye went aglow.

The same bright, vibrant green glow started to erupt from each other orifice, and then from all the gaping wounds she delivered to him. She sat unmoving on her hind legs, staring at the mangled corpse as it rose to sit, mimicking her posture. Its eyes, shining green like searchlights, glared at her. What remained of the mouth opened, the jaw hanging off, still emitted a piercing, echoing voice. It wasn't his voice, having an accent and being backed by a choir of other tones.

“You… must be one of the crazy-asses these featherbrains dug up. Here you are, ruining all my nice, shiny plans. Well done,” spoke the voice, reverberating through Ditzy’s spine. It came out of every single changeling in the hall, both incapacitated and dead. “For how interested your masked loony lot are in answers, you don’t seem like one to chat. Why don’t we… get this over with?”

Several dozen flashes and light explosions happened all around her. Ditzy sat, unmoving, as each and every changeling around her expired in a flash of green, their eyes giving out completely, green vapor draining into the air.

“Not bad… not bad at all, pony. They had no idea... heh, heh, heh. I wonder what gave you this… hunger for blood. You’re an interesting bird. I’ve never seen anything like it. So this is what's behind the mask...” At the last words, the deformed long-haired synaptic began to convulse, to which the mare slowly got up and walked several steps away, then turning face to face with as it forced a few more words out. “We should meet again.”

The last changeling in the statue hall exploded, and the mare heard the creaking of large gates opening behind her. She picked up the mask and put it on, walking out of the hall and to the stairway the gates lead to, finding herself on the ground floor.

Her legs carried her through the demolished entry hall, stepping rigidly. Disparate, dismembered corpses were strewn all around, most of the destroyed, overturned furniture covered in red. Whichever changelings were there had been fizzled out much like the ones in the statue chamber, wisping away their liquid remains. A few choice synaptic bodies still continued to twitch, lightless eyes staring into the ceiling, strewn randomly among the chaos. The pigeon barely stopped to finish each off with a quick stomp.

There were moving figures at the far end of the entrance hall. Obscured by the pizza delivery carriage, which had been driven through the ornate glass doors, burying several ponies under it, she saw the three figures bashing against a large white lump. The mare took a look to the side while moving past the stairway Rooster and Owl must have gone down from. From there, there was a trail of scorched and bludgeoned gangsters, which littered the smooth red carpets with bodies of ponies in blue and white.

Over the sounds of the other masked ponies' breaths and their weapons bashing and stabbing against the large bluish-grey minotaur that lay in a dead end, the pigeon heard faint, gurgling breaths. Tilting her head rapidly to face it, she saw a blonde maned blue unicorn, who pushed himself desperately against a wall, cradling a twisted, out-of-joint foreleg, one of his eyebrow piercings pushed into the skin, a large red patch spreading under his fine white suit.

The mare looked back to the others, seeing that by now, most of the blows were being delivered by Rooster alone, while Duck One and Two had stepped back and began to examine something closer to the very end of the hallway. Owl was slumped against a wall, submerged into an indentation, a pool of blood spreading under him.

“O-oh fffuck…” the familiar unicorn sputtered, coughing up blood. He shuddered as the mare came up to him and screamed rabidly as she grabbed him by his broken leg, clutching it against her chest first, before lugging him toward what remained of a table, now a collection of sharp pegs.

“Pigeon? You—” Duck Two called out, his voice coming out muffled from behind the mask. “Okay, just... Listen to us. Give this fucker over to us.” He stepped back, the small firearm suspended by his telekinesis turning away and lowering.

His eyes avoided contact with hers, as the mare's twitched in different directions, the bad eye forgetting to blink.

“Yeah. Give him here. It looks like we need one of these alive to get into the ascending room. It’s magic,” Duck One began to speak, but stopped once the pigeon’s eyes switched to her. “Just… calm down. We did it. Bring that pig over here. Can you hear us?”

For a short time, it was silent, with an undertone of methodical, wet thuds delivered by Rooster to an increasingly more deformed minotaur skull. The Major unicorn screeched for some time, ultimately choking on his cries while the pegasus dragged him to the Ducks by his broken leg. She had to forcibly let go of his disjointed leg, as neither of them stepped close to her.

The gangster was immediately picked up, shoved against the wall, and dragged along it, until a light twinkle signaled the opening of the previously invisible ascending room doors at the end of the former dead end. His face was then rammed into the trio of spikes at the front of Duck One’s leg-mounted shield.

The pigeon looked at Owl. His chest was dented in, the suit wrinkling and flopping there where his abdomen would have supported it as he sat. A web of thick cracks covered the wall behind him. Rooster continued to wail on the dead minotaur, his fortified suit and destroyed communications equipment now more red than white. The mare walked up to it and gave a massive, ring-covered hand a kick from her hind hooves, barely cracking any of the jewelry. The masked earth pony stopped and turned to the mare. Rooster and her stared at each other until there was a chirping sound, and the doors at the end closed, a light switching from red to green. Duck One and Two were gone.

Rooster looked away from her stare and walked up to Owl. He knelt before him, touching the neck for a moment, and then tore the unicorn's mask off. There was little left of it, all a broken, bloodstained bruise. Rooster threw his mask off as well and spat on the ground. He gently picked Owl up onto his back and headed back to the van. The bruised unicorn’s dead eyes gazed at her until both him and the earth pony disappeared into their vehicle, with three duffel bags, including hers, being thrown out shortly afterward. By when the engine started again, there was another chirp, and the lifting cage doors opened again.

The pigeon picked up the discarded owl and rooster masks and walked into the doors. She spent the next half a minute looking at her own masked reflection in the mirror. There was a gun blast up above. Then, two more, underscored with the crackling of electricity. Then, a high-pitched mooing screech. After that, an incoherent, screaming tirade picked up.

When the doors opened, the mare stood in a luxurious office, filled with woodwork, paintings, trinkets, blue and white company logos, bookshelves, mahogany office tables and corpses.

Most of the carpet in the middle was covered by the corpse of a huge, obese fat minotaur in a pink palmtree shirt, his bare chest covered by amulets, necklaces and various souvenirs, with two large holes burned through his body - one in his forehead, one in his gut. At a table by the side of the room slumped a brown earth stallion in a pitch black suit, his mane a greying blonde, with a single red rose peeking out the pocket, which added to the red that stained the wall behind him, as most of his face was missing, while a leg-strapped gun still smoking as it lay on the table. Closest to the lifting cage doors was a white crane griffon in a blue suit, whose long, knife-like beak was broken clean in half, her head crushed into an indentation in the floor, the crater bearing an imprint of a huge fist adorned with rings.

At the far end of the office, near the balcony, were the two Ducks, who cornered a tall, slender, aging yellow unicorn. His mane and moustache were a bright, toothpaste red and white, contrasting his white suit and blue shirt. The pigeon looked up and met his darting, dark green eyes.

“Oh, ok— ok— okay! Okay, so, fine, you don’t want money, I get that! I, I’m sure Se— Señor Torero gets it too, eheh! A-and the Don, too! Th-they weren't very flexible, but I am!” he blabbered while Duck One pushed her free forehoof into hsi chest, nudging him closer to the railing. “Well, you, you… You have to understand! There’s—”

“We understand well enough. We don’t need any answers. You're a rat. You saw this place turn to shit, and if the bugs weren't enough, you rotted real ponies, too.” Duck Two said, lighting up his firearm as it floated by the moustached unicorn’s head.

“Please, it wasn’t our choice, it was just... opportunity! You have to understand— It’s not that simple, we didn’t just—”

“Your 'security' is just a bunch of thugs and joy pushers with private funding, you fucking excuse for an equine being. You don't think we're just after the bugs, do you, Mr. Majority Solutions?”

“We… look, I, I see that you’re a, a, a group of very dedicated young ponies, but please don’t be so rash—”

“You made your fucking fortune off the back of Equestria’s loss!” Duck Two shouted, pressing his gun against the unicorn’s cheek. “The hell did you lose in your ivory tower?”

The moustached stallion held his breath, the panic in his eyes growing as he stared at the pigeon, who stayed completely still. Sweat poured off his forehead, and his whole body trembled.

“They killed my brother!" the stallion shrieked, crying. "Just because they were jealous of our success! Equestria was falling apart, and we were the solution! Majority Solutions, for all our new problems! Security, stability, safety! Copycats, idea stealers, small minds, they don't think - they just kill!"

The mare glanced at the tarnished office. Many of its pictures and most of the furniture were stained by the rain coming through the shattered windows. There was a portrait of the stallion being held up against the railing, fallen onto its side on his desk, only much younger and sans moustache.

“You're... you're bigger than that, aren't you?” he said, giving an awkward grin despite his teeth chattering. “I can make it worth your while.”

"Let's finish what they started,” Duck Two said, and a thin string of lightning sprung off from his gun. Duck One backed away before sent the convulsing stallion over the edge with her shield. There was a meaty thud.

The pigeon stared at the two of them. They stared back.

“We’ve won,” Duck One told her. Her and her partner turned away and walked back to the balcony, leaning over it, leaving their weapons behind, forehooves dangling off.

“It’s all over now,” Duck Two spoke quietly, taking off his mask and throwing it to the howling wind. Duck One did the same.

The pigeon walked to the balcony and let the owl and rooster mask fly as well, before taking off hers too.

She took the trip down and discarded her stained, torn suit into the bag, and went home, staring forward, her mouth slightly open, catching raindrops.

***

Tragedy struck as last night, at roughly 11 PM, as a group of terrorists attacked Opportunity Height Manor, the pearl of Carol City. Several dozen attendees were slaughtered in the shocking raid, dealing a massive blow to the infrastructure of shoreside Equestria. This attack is now the worst civilian massacre Equestria had seen since the Packsmulle Coexistence Riot of 1003, which saw…

...by the most brilliant minds in the country’s business ventures and attended since its establishment in 1007 by pioneers of change and progress in society, this year it attracted a group of rogue ES/AS agents with murderous intent, killing indiscriminately. Despite reports of the mansion having massively bolstered security…

...more than thirty businessponies and an as of yet unidentified number of licensed security guards belonging to affiliate private security companies Majority Solutions Ltd. and InterContinental Security Ltd. were slaughtered. The death toll includes...

...Torero, retired entrepreneur and playbull; Gaur, financial attache to the Taurine embassy in New Canterlot; Henrietta Königswald, security chief for the Griffon delegation, which arrived in early March; lastly, the manor's owner, Flam, who founded Majority Solutions Ltd. in late 1004, often credited with the birth of the private security market in Equestria. Additionally, the businesspony headed "The Flim-Flam Foundation", a charity organization for socialites, which most of the massacre's victims frequently donated to.

The presence of some of these high ranking figures at Opportunity Heights is as of yet unknown, though authorities have launched immediate investigations into the two security companies mentioned above, as their own CEOs were also among the victims at the...

...charity organizations are arriving in Carol City to set up relief efforts over the coming weeks. Citizens can find a list of identified victims at the nearest CCPD precinct. Due to the extremely graphic nature of most victims’ injuries, relatives are not required to take part in the identification process. Prejudice Rock Pact citizens affected by the disaster will be administered additional doses of euphorium from May 30th to July 28th. Regarding…

...and considering the sheer weight of this event, I would not be surprised if Carol City ended up at the forefront of international political attention.” Engels added. “I’m certain the Griffon Empire, for one, will provide vital support to victims of this tragedy, as well as the means to prevent this from happening again. As for your own leadership, the Sovereign Princess Twilight Sparkle’s long-standing zero tolerance policy regarding terrorist negotiations is unlikely to see any change, considering the obvious involvement of the rogue Emergency Situation Attack Squad in this dreadful affair. This is all starting to look a terrible lot like San Franciscolt, doubtlessly meaning that policy changes will need to occur. In fact, they will come to a great number of civil policies, that is for sure.”

The Daily Carol will continue to cover any pertinent news regarding the massacre, but for now our editorial staff wishes one single thing for the readers: stay safe. Remain vigilant.

Carol City North West Beach - 11:45 PM

The mare stepped mechanically on the wet, clumped sand. Raindrops dripped off her face, causing the twitching eyes to blink. She walked in a straight line, only changing direction to avoid the benches. Far in the distance, loud alarms were blaring, and she could see the police lights on the elevated rock several kilometers back the way she came. The neon lights of a beachside cafe illuminated her path as she went along.

Eventually, Ditzy stopped. She turned in place, and put down her bag. Then she sat down and leaned against it, laying under the heavy rain. Her bad eye slowly stopped twitching. As the raindrops caused her to blink more and more, it pulled back out of focus. Her jaw hung wide open, tongue catching the rainwater. The rain washed through her coat, soaking it thoroughly, and ridding it of sweat.

Ditzy’s legs went limp, throbbing in place. Her breath was raspy, quiet, slower with every next inhale. Blood fell back from her ears, raising the volume of the sirens and of the rain drumming against the ocean.

Her good eye drifted to the rays of the moon shining through the storm clouds, and her eyelids slipped shut.

“Mom?.. It’s cold out here.”

Author's Note

Edgy blood background at http://pre15.deviantart.net/0905/th/pre/f/2015/097/e/d/untitled_drawing_by_pandora_the_wolf-d8os5uh.png. This was harder to find than it should have been.

PART 3 - DESTINATIONS. Chapter 11: Abandoned Mail

June 9th, 1013 AN - 1:24 PM

Carol City, Equestria

Ditzy lay on the couch in the kitchen, a sheet of paper pressed against her chest, her eye tracking the shadows of the palm trees swaying outside. Dull clouds obscured the sun, and the wind came in cool, gentle currents, granting relief from the relentless heat. The lava lamp on the coffee table illuminated dozens of papers stacked on its surface. Among them were two books and several piles of sheets that had a dark orange hue to them, similar to the one the mare was holding. She stayed in the dim haze of the cloudy afternoon, her mouth slightly agape. The paper in her grip had gotten stained by the sweat that had congested on her coat.

Blinking drowsily, Ditzy lifted the sheet off her chest and sat up on the couch. Her body swayed, wings hanging limp. She glanced at the windows facing the beach, blinking her good eye awake. One of her hooves lifted to help close the other eye, nudging her snout on the way. Slowly, her iris moved back to the sheet.

280603, Muffin Corner. Reported violence, got lethal by arrival. Just a drone, flowerpot on head. Ruling an accident so far, will get homeowner to come by and pretend they got the talk. Com says this may be connected to bug hunting in the area, like the Cricket Hunter case. Better for morale if there are less of those, though, so stay quiet. - VP

The mare put her hoof against the bad eye and stared out the window, glaring at the orange blot, and at the waving ocean behind it. Street vendors and regular ponies sat and stood there, under quivering umbrellas and covers, as a bright green, crystalline vehicle stood by the beachside, accepting the long line in small groups.

010703, Sparkleshine Road. Syn and pony found dead middle of road at 0400. Blunt trauma on both, seems mostly hooves, syn got cortex kicked into paste. Questioning says neither knew the other, but ruling self-defense by the pony. Bugs been rowdy in the area, ES/AS is asking questions. May throw this to them, turn it into a civic thing. Com still insists on link. - VP

She threw the sheet on the table, where it landed among the rest, covered in scribbles with most of the typed text redacted. The sturdy, old folder they originated from leaned against a wall, placed on a stool next to the door that led to the hallway. A red circle with four symbols within it, the paint still not fully dried, caught the light of the lamp.

Flexing her drooped wings, the mare slowly got off the couch and on all fours, stretching her neck. With a raspy heave, she grabbed a water bottle by the refrigerator and stuck it in her mouth. She held it there until the water began to streak down her chin and onto her coat, eventually overflowing her mouth and causing her to spit and cough, tapping herself on the chest.

The mare dropped the bottle, letting it rattle off to the table. Catching her breath, coughing, she looked up at the window in front of her. In the pre-rain dimness, a faint reflection of herself looked back at her, cast by the lamplight. Ditzy stared at the glitter of her own eye, eventually blinking at herself and briefly touching the glass with her forehead.

When she opened her eyes again, both of them were looking forward.

“Are you seeing a pattern here?”

Behind her, a large shadow stood, its wide, unmoving grin glistening off the surface of the window, right above her head. The pegasus blinked again, staring directly at it. The green wagon on the street below took off, leaving behind several earth ponies in orange coastal uniforms. They moved to restrain a flickering figure that tried intensely to wriggle away in its direction.

“Does this interest you?”

The mare pressed her hooves against the window, drooping her head. She heaved for a few moments, then breathed calmly. Her head turned around, into the gloom of the hallway which the lamp did not pierce. In the intensifying shadow, it glowed a much stronger orange.

Ditzy stepped toward it, her stiff wing shoving the folder with the case files off the stool. Several wads of pink and yellow banknotes followed suit as the wing dragged them along. Ditzy leaned with a forehoof against the wall, staring into the darkness, the doors to Dinky’s room, her room and the bathroom to her side. The motionless, oversized grin shone at her where the peephole of her door would have been.

“Is there something you’re waiting for? There are things that could have been done. Why wait until now? And why do this?”

The pegasus walked on into the dark, side-stepping a duffel bag filled with wads of similar banknotes. She bumped into Dinky’s locked door, disturbing a post-note written in crayon. Breathing sharply, she came face to face with her entry door, looking at the glittering peephole. She shook her head and furrowed her brows.

“Is there someone at the door? You should answer.”

Ditzy prodded the lock and pushed the door open. It opened up a creak, then slowed down. After a brief pause, the mare peeked out into the much cooler hall. There was a cardboard box right in front of her apartment door. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, then pushed the door further open, walking out and grabbing the box. It was light enough for the mare to grasp it with a foreleg and get back inside her apartment on three legs. Ditzy locked the door and brought the box closer to lamplight, while the thick clouds outside began to rumble.

The top of the box opened up easily, the carton was unsealed. The mare looked at the contents, and the eyeless head of a pinkish-orange dove looked back at her. Leaning against it was a big printed note, marked with red pen. Ditzy stared at it for a few minutes before picking up the note.

It was less of a note and more of a small poster. Three helmet-clad pony heads looked at her, drawn in sharp, jagged lines, with a rising sun behind them. Below ran the text:

CITIZENS OF CAROL CITY

The Equestrian government has left you to fend for yourself in the continuing Wedding War. You have been fed a lie of peaceful coexistence, and forced to bear the scars of the abuse. Unlike us, you were never told that your own Princess has given up on you.

The hornet’s nest has been crushed, but more remain among you. They will not die easily, and they will not die alone. Your government would rather they don’t die at all. Everyone knows what that leads to. Your city is now officially under the protection of the Emergency Situation Attack Squad. We will deliver the finishing blow and keep you safe.

Follow these tips for safety in the coming times:

MAINTAIN CONTACT WITH EVERYONE CLOSE TO YOU

BE WARY OF CHANGELINGS WHOM YOU THINK YOU KNOW

STAY HOME AT NIGHT

A large, carefully drawn watercolor circle containing a crescent, a star and a heart obscured the rest of the list. However, a patch of text visible in the uncolored heart was circled out with red pen. It was part of another list, which began under the first one.

...44-46, 58-69, 90-111 Sparkler Street, the area of the south-western docks…

The rest of the addresses were redacted with red, drawing multiple lines through the large symbol. Only one last piece of the note was untouched by the drawing, albeit it bore the final additions in pen:

THE ES/AS WILLNOTPROTECT YOU

BUT WE CAN HELP. YOU FIRST, DOVE

Ditzy closed her eyes, her bad eye retracting to its usual displaced position. She took a breath and grabbed the mask, leaving for her room, where she opened the wardrobe and put on the cleaned, repaired postal outfit, fitting her wings before leaving the apartment.

***

46 Sparkler Street - 3:44 PM

Ditzy strolled along the sidewalk, passing by quiet shops and staring at an empty road ahead. The sky above rumbled, with small flocks of weather pegasi scrambling to hold off a large black cloud. Her nearly empty bag brushed against the plain stone and glass of the many similar buildings at both sides of the long street. The rumbling and splashing of the ocean’s unruly waves overrode most of the noise made by the occupants of apartment blocks and shops. Ditzy’s good eye stared straight ahead, where several passenger carts have been lined up to blockade the road and the sidewalk. There, a congregation of ponies were raising noise, which got louder and louder as the mare approached, eventually overpowering the waves and thunder.

Having reached a crossroads just in front of the gathering, she turned her head to the buildings on the opposite her. Nearly all were apartment blocks eroded by weather, regular brick falling to the elements, the surfaces and premises covered in trash, some houses more than others. Squinting, Ditzy noticed the street marker on one of them and exhaled, closing her eyes. She shook her head and stretched her neck to see how far the row of buildings went. The apartments did not continue much further than the makeshift blockade.

As the pegasus crossed the street to the housing buildings, a crash of glass and a series of loud shouts erupted from the other side of the road. Ditzy turned around, eyes fixed on the noisy gathering. She tilted her head, slowly backing into a narrow alleyway between the nearest blocks.

Two equine figures stood behind a crashed window, the crowd shouting at them. Several had banners fastened to their sides, others were pointing at them and hollering at the top of their lungs. The crowd looked to be a mix of older ponies and young adults, both behaving relatively the same way. Ditzy paused when she saw that several of them, the ones farther away from her, were wearing what looked like postal uniforms, though not exactly true to the one she had in her bag. Her movement stopped completely once she saw one of them reach into a bag of his own and pull out a cheap plastic bird beak, turning to shriek at the couple inside the shop.

“WE’LL PUT YOU ALL IN THE FUCKING NEWS SOON ENOUGH!” the pony’s shrill voice echoed through the alleyway.

“BUG OFF WHILE WE LET YOU!” more voices yelled, steadily turning into a chant.

“SHOVE YOUR REGISTRATION UP YOUR LEGHOLES!” an older voice screamed, throwing a newspaper at an intact window.

The figures inside the shop tried to reply, causing a very slight drop in volume from the crowd, which made the police sirens in the distance audible. A glowing smokestick landed next to her into a dumpster, tossed down by a grey-coated pony with a thick, low-cut mane, wearing a silver everyday vest, coat cut up with tattoos. He had a lower posture than the ponies below on the street, and his cheeks were more bulky as well. Several others similar to him were visible in the windows and on the balconies overlooking the protesters.

Ditzy opened and closed her mouth, blinking her good eye. She emerged from the alleyway for a moment, looking at the other apartments, and saw similar ponies in the building on her other side. The rest were visibly dominated by ponies in street or work clothes, as well as undisguised changelings, who swiftly retreated once they realized what was happening. Finally, on a nearby third floor balcony, she noticed a sturdy pale grey unicorn with a thick, fringed, auburn mane peek out, chuckling and covering his face up with a hoof as he watched. He wore a full silver suit, up the left side of which ran the stylized marking of a dragon. The stallion said something in a foreign language, looking back at the room behind him and chuckled some more. Ditzy turned away and disappeared behind a dumpster in the alleyway, where she put down her bag and unzipped it.

She paused as she saw a newspaper glued to the wall, a hastily drawn heart-star-moon symbol covering up most of it. She then held her breath and nodded to herself, opening the bag to reveal the visage of the dove staring up at her.

46 Sparkler Street - 3:56 PM

The shape of a dove emerged from the alleyway, pinkish head turning left and right to glance at its sides. To her left was a group of tattooed ponies wearing silver suits, as well as various items of silver jewelry. They conversed in a foreign tongue, most of them moving around packages from a large mound of items covered with tarp. A unicorn mare with half of her mane shaved entirely, the other tied into a long braid, was leaning against the front wall of the compound, going through several glowing smokesticks at once. She let out a stifled cough, moments before a pair of forehooves grabbed her from behind and pressed in harshly on her neck. A puff of bluish vapor shot out of her nose, while red droplets trickled from her mouth. The postal mare remained unnoticed until one of the workers heard her hoofsteps on the pavement, turned around, and alerted the others.

She hit him with a mace, shattering his teeth and nose while turning the shout into a gurgle. The heavy ball flung around, chained to a leg bracer that she had looted from the braided unicorn, and hit several of the approaching tattooed ponies. Purplish brain matter splattered all over the sidewalk in front of the apartment block’s entrance. Another was sent head first into the cart, leaving a small dent and a red blot. The four that had dodged a high-aimed swipe closed in, splitting into pairs, circling the dove from either side. Each had a concealed bracer on one foreleg, a curved knife sticking out from them.

When the first pair closed in, the postal mare quickly took to the air, leaving them staring in confusion as she leaped on top of the cart they had been loading. The other pair gasped as she then pounced on them, not giving them time to raise their weapons. A bare-chested metallic stallion with a sprawling tattoo on his right foreleg was the first to go, the mare’s forehooves crushing his neck. Immediately afterward, his partner was flung several feet away as the pegasus rammed into him, flapping her wings, once again making the other two miss.

The pony hit the pavement, breath knocked out of him, while the other two turned to shout loudly in the direction of a docked ship nearby, as well as the apartment block itself. They quickly rushed the mare, both leaping into the air, aiming for her wings. She simply crouched and bucked her hind legs, hitting them both and knocking them onto the pavement. The gangsters writhed on the ground, scrambling to get up, only to fall again as each one now had a limp, bleeding foreleg. The mace smashed both their heads, adding to the gore coating the weapon. Another sprinkle of blood stained the ground as the mare doubled back and smashed her hind hoof into the face of the nearly recovered stallion that she had rammed into prior.

A hunched over, semi-bipedal figure looked at her from the big passenger boat nearby, their stares crossing. It emitted a low, coughing laugh and disappeared in a dark flash. The mare continued to stare where it appeared, tilting her head. Lightning flashed above, casting a shadow on the blood and corpse-stained pavement, and she headed for the open door of the four-story apartment building.

A light brown unicorn with an auburn, left-facing fringe on his head peeked lazily out the door, the dove mere steps away. His bloodshot eyes widened, and he shut the door in her face. The door was immediately kicked back open, toppling a couple of decorative plants near the entrance, while the unicorn hurried back up via the main stairway. His escape was assisted by an apron-wearing, burly, matte stallion with a braided beard, who nearly bumped into the postal mare as she ascended the steps, making her way to the platform that connected to the other apartments.

The hammering of hooves was already up to the fourth floor when the mare pushed the sizeable stallion back and stabbed him with her wings, piercing his chest and causing him to waddle back into the room he came from, then fall on the floor, gurgling. His blood stained the richly ornamented carpet, and with his fall, he knocked several plastic wrapped statuettes off a drawer.

The other denizens of the three-room apartment were in the large kitchen, two sweating stallions on a couch, and a long, dark-maned mare by the stove. The stallions were already reaching for a pair of bludgeons behind the couch when the dove entered the room, but in their rush they fumbled and blocked each other, giving the mare time to smash the head of the first one with the mace still attached to her leg. She then used the chain to crush the neck of the second, after which her wing swung to topple the big kitchen table. It hit the mare by the stove, covering her in sliced tomatoes and spreading rice all over the floor.

The dark-maned mare kicked the table back just in time, and she reached for a drawer, trying to grab a holstered gun. Her forelegs were cracked apart by the ball and chain, and the postal mare turned around to kick the other mare’s face in. While she was speeding out of the apartment, filled with wrapped pieces of foreign furniture and other decor, loud shouting was audible from the floors above.

Another gangster emerged from the open door to the apartment in front of the one she left. He was dressed in a silver suit, a firearm holstered around the bend of his foreleg. His sweat-covered face contorted as a shot meant for the dove missed narrowly, and further still when the beaked head smashed into his snout. She bashed her locked forelegs against his head several times, and he stopped moving. The only other occupant of that apartment, clothed identically to the other one, was a tattooed stallion with his dark mane in a bun, lying in a bed, two pillows pressed against each side of his head. The mare looked at him for a few moments, then around the room he was in, packed up foreign luxury contrasting the rest of the cheap living room.

She slipped off the bracer, replacing it with another she found on the nightstand, on top of which was a snub-nosed device with six chambers fitting to its side. It fit around her foreleg, and the mechanism gave a sharp click as she pointed her foreleg at the stallion and pulled on the trigger strap. A hollow, puffy sound rang out, barely audible among the clamoring and the clopping of hooves above, but the hole in the pillows and the spreading red pool indicated the weapon worked.

The remaining two apartments were empty, cleared out completely, lacking either mobsters or any sort of furniture or decoration at all. When the mare took the steps to the next floor, a pair of suited gangsters in drenched sweatbands had set up their foreleg-long, composite firearms on the railings, aiming where she was to come from. A pair of bayonets reflected the dull light of the crystalline bulb in the middle of the platform, sparkling at the dove as she came face to face with them. The rifles fired, and the gangsters were knocked clean off their hooves as the pegasus flew straight into both of them, flying directly between the rounds aimed at her.

A loud roll of thunder, followed by an encore of smaller ones, drowned out the haphazard swearing as the two were stabbed repeatedly, one’s eye getting impaled, another having a curved wing-knife stick in his forehead. Three more gangsters closed in, having heard the shots. The crouched mare, with her wings sprawled out and contorted to work the knives, had her back against the wall, while the mobsters stared at the blood-splattered bodies of the gunners. Two of them, wearing similar weapon bracers with bludgeons attached to chains, avoided a sudden approach. Instead, they conversed loudly in their language and quickly shifted, placing one of them to one side of the mare, while the other was in front of her, every other path blocked by the railing of the stairs. They had their weapons at the ready, doing swirling motions with them, eyes squinted and teeth gritted. The third gangster, a dark colored mare with silver, braided hair, spent some time staring at the corpses of the gunners, her own leg-rifle hanging limp as her eyes darted around. The killer’s own eye alternated between the three of them, while her body was motionless, only the stomach heaving.

With another series of thunderbolts, now followed by loud, hollow booming noises, the dove rolled to her side, knocking over the stallion next to her, and she sprung up back on her hooves to plant a hind leg through his chest. At that moment, the riflemare shrieked and threw herself right in the killer’s direction, holding up the bayonet to gore through her. The one remaining stallion joined her, charging in to block any retreat. Instead of dodging the bayonet charge, the postal mare dove in herself, wings raised, effectively leaping over the attacker and landing on her back instead. This caused the gunner mare to fall to the floor as she slipped on the blood of the mobster with a heavy dent in his chest.

The one tattooed pony went for the dove, dashing forward, bludgeon at the ready, but did not get to swing it against her skull - his snout all but mashed into the outstretched snubbed nose of the gun, which left a mess of the side of his head. The gunner underneath the killer nearly began to throw her off before the gun leg pressed against her rising head and the muscle pushed back again, the bullet clinking against the tile of the platform once it passed through the matter and bone of the mare’s head. Expanding as the dead mobsters’ bodies leaked more and more, the blood puddles on the second floor reflected the postal mare’s static form for a few more seconds, after which she twitched her head, stretched her gun leg, and made a quick dash from apartment to apartment to check for others. They were empty yet again, devoid of furniture. Boxes lay in the corridors of the apartments the gangsters came out of, toppled over. Police sirens could be heard over the rattling of the rain on the metal rooftops, and the mare proceeded to the third floor, wings already spreading.

She cantered swiftly up the stairs to another identical floor, and was met with four corpses of gang members right in the middle of the platform. The ponies were surrounded by smashed boxes with ruined furniture inside, more wrapped up trinkets littering the tile around them. There were massive, steaming holes in them. Two were missing their heads entirely, while some were left with only their heads and flanks, barely anything left to connect them. The walls were splattered with red as if it were paint, chunks of barely identifiable meat sticking all over the place. The dove stared at the reflective surface of the wall in front of her for a moment, the sulfuric and slightly ozone-like odor of this floor seeping through her mask. Her bad eye twitched, and her head tilted as the mare walked closer to stare at the reflection that towered over the devastation, but her waddling walk ceased sharply as heavy hoofsteps and a loud, raspy breath came from a corner apartment to her left.

A large, bipedal figure, all jagged black chitin with a stunty snout that sprouted thick black growths, and a pair of luminescent horns on its head limped out of a room that had its door kicked in. It stared at the mare with its bright green eyes and swore to itself, raising one hand, the other lowering to to hold up a large, jagged object at her. Its horns grew even brighter as green light coalesced around the object to turn it into a huge pistol-like firearm with a chamber roughly the size of the masked killer’s own head. She acted quickly, her eye unblinking, standing completely still, except for her gun leg - it raised in the blink of an eye and jerked back thrice, leaving two more holes in the bovine changeling’s chest. It toppled over the frame of the apartment door, coughing in an booming, echoing voice, and went limp moments later, dropping the weapon on the floor with a heavy thud.

Another series of thunder rang out, and the sirens in the distance got louder, followed by a distant voice through a loudspeaker: The mare lifted her head and turned around, heading straight for the last floor. The volume of the noises layering over each other got more intense as a gangster noticed her mounting the steps at a swift pace, and he started shouting at her. The fourth floor was completely barren, even the tiles having been removed, leaving the walls as bare bricks. It was dark, the only light coming through glassless windows that peeked into the desolate apartments.

Despite the volume of rumbling noise coming from all sides, including up, there was no presence on this floor, excluding the gangster that started shouting - a sweat-laden pale grey unicorn in a full dark metallic suit with a curving dragon crawling up the side of it in white thread. The unicorn grit his teeth, eyes wide as they stared at the dove, and he levitated multiple knives in front of him, forming a circle. He slowly backed away, the mare following him at the same pace. They kept eye contact, until his eyes turned away when the mare’s one looked right through him. He continued to shout, his horn flashing brightly, and the circle of steel swirled faster and faster. Neither tried to attack, however, and eventually they made their way up the final stairway to the roof.

He stood there, raindrops drenching him in seconds and bouncing off the intense telekinetic field around the knives. The mare got to the roof quickly as well, her half of the floor illuminated by the bright police lights below. In front of her was the unicorn, now standing his ground, grinning with his teeth grit tightly. Behind him was the other apartment building, and at least six gunners stood on the rooftop, their rifles aimed at her, another pale grey unicorn with an auburn fringe leading them. The one sharing the rooftop with her raised his forehoof to wave at the blood and rain-soaked masked mare in front of him, his horn flickering slightly. The mare blinked her good eye at him, then quickly thrust her wing, loosening one of the remaining knives and having it lodge right into the bottom of his neck. As the unicorn fell, his ring of steel collapsing around him, he stared upwards, watching the mare dart into the sky mere moments before the other gangsters opened fire. The voice on the loudspeaker below got louder, more and more sirens joining in, and more thunderclaps shook the sky.

The firing brigade missed the rapidly ascending pegasus, and they tried to reload as quickly as they could under the rain, the crystal mechanisms spitting sparks onto the roof as the gangsters struggled with them. Moments later, just as their guns were ready, the mare stopped where she was in the air and let her wings go limp, dropping straight down. It made some of them hesitate, the others trying to fire as she fell, missing her again. The unicorn at the head of the brigade had been frozen still, staring at where the other had died, his jaw open wide as he looked at the rain wash away the blood. He was the first to look down and see that the mare got her wings working instantly after disappearing from view, dashing in through the fourth floor window. His croaking voice was audible, shouting incoherent orders while she touched down inside, water dripping off her coat onto the tile.

The dove paused near the stairways that led down. There was a pile of corpses there, the same mob - they were contorted and charred, only identifiable by the remnants of their silver uniforms and body features. The scene was completely devoid of odor, safe for the mare’s own sweat. While the shouting outside and up on the roof continued, the dove walked down the steps, stepping over the corpses, and peeked at the third floor. More bodies littered the platform and the apartment doorways, some charred, some with their heads tilted at unnatural angles, temples beaten in. Flicking her ears, she retreated and looked up at where the firing team was. With a raspy huff, she picked up one of the charred bodies and got it in her forehooves, using wings as support to walk up to the stairway to the roof. A brief glance showed that nobody was standing right at the steps, so she made her way halfway there, and then, with a strong wing flap, launched the charred body out onto the roof.

The gunners, who had gathered three to each side of the roof entrance, were left staring in shock from the sight of the corpse. Immediately following it was the dove, who leaped on top of it and launched herself to the right, barreling into the trio of stunned mobsters. The other team aimed their weapons, but by then the mare’s wings had already stabbed a knife in the side of two of the gunners’ heads. When the shots came, the mare picked up the one that was left on the ground and had him take the shots that would otherwise have been on target.

Staggered by the corpse jerking back at her, the mare came face to face with the unicorn. A loud thunderclap and pop rang out just to their side, which distracted him as well, but the mare stood her ground, head lowered, eye half-open, staring through him. He wavered on his hooves, eyes grown wide and reddening, his fringe, facing left, having become a thick lump of reddish hair that covered half his face. His horn glowed, making a ring of knives that emerged from inner pockets of the suit start to spin up. He lifted one of his hooves, touching it up the right side of his chest, along where the dragon crawled on his suit. The unicorn then opened his mouth, beginning to speak words that were drowned out by the noise around them. The tip of his hoof turned to point at the masked mare.

She dropped to a crouch when the horn flashed brighter. The stallion’s mouth kept moving, the voice growing louder, while the mare’s legs began to twitch from the tension. Eventually, he shouted one last time, coming through over the noise that surrounded him.

His lips then curled into a smile and he shut his eyes, a bright flash emitting from his horn. The circle around him stopped, and a single knife sliced across his own throat.

The dove stood in place, twitching, staring at the unicorn’s red blood sprinkle onto the waterlogged roof. She lifted her hooves, which shook, and touched her mask. Her wings hung limp, and she turned around a few times. Her head twitched slightly as the sirens began to decrease, some of the lights speeding away, while a voice below was repeating the same sentences through the loudspeaker. The mare’s hooves touched her chest, spreading some of the blood on her all over the uniform.

Her whole body turned around sharply, shaking, when a strong gust of wind nearly knocked her off her hooves. It came from where the other three gunners were, and she turned to find an awkward, crooked figure there, standing on top of three charred corpses. The dove’s beak bulged a little at the bottom as the mare’s mouth opened. Her head tilted sharply, first to one side, then to the other. Her ears flicked.

“This is a sad end, isn’t it?” asked the dark, awkward figure. its mouth not changing from its persistent grin.

She shook her head, squinting her eyes. Her nostrils flared under the mask as she huffed, and her bad eye managed to focus straight ahead.

“This doesn’t seem good, no? It never does in the end. But…” the figure spread its forelimbs, while the mare’s eyes were fixated on the grin. “...the sun goes down. It's what it does in this place. It takes the past with it.”

The pegasus issued a series of raspy, gurgling noises before shutting her eyes and pressing a wet hoof against her temple. She breathed noisily for a few seconds before opening her eyes again. The grinning figure was gone.

In front of her was an albatross griffon, who stood with a crooked posture, leaning on a lightning bolt-shaped cane, one of his hind legs made of ornate wood. One side of his face was obcured by plumage, a mess of burn scar tissue visible from behind the feathers. He squinted his own good eye at her. After clearing his throat, he waved a talon in front of her.

“Do you want answers?”

The dove continued to stare, her bad eye beginning to twitch harder. The griffon sighed and reached out to touch her shoulder. With a loud clap and a dark flash, they found themselves in a big, dimly lit room, water from their coats dripping onto the ooze-stained floor.

She gasped loudly, disoriented from the teleportation, and let out a wet noise. A stream of chunky, orange bile emerged from near her neck, leaking from inside the mask. She lay almost limp on her chest, staring ahead. In the dim room - an inner deck of a boat - there were dozens of changeling corpses on the floor, their body structures varied, with many of their parts missing. In the middle of the room, sitting on a large chair, was a massive minotaur in a leather cloak, his bare chest covered with trinkets hanging off his neck. Above the neck, there was no head to be found, a meaty crater of tough muscle and bone lacking any facial features. Pieces of beard and sunglasses were splashed all over the walls. An immense taurine gun lay on the floor next to him, while another was still gripped by his large, tattooed arm. The albatross stood on top of the blasted apart remains of a changeling resembling himself.

“The price of failure is something you choose yourself,” he said. "If you feel the failure cannot be rectified. Those are quite few, but a bigger heart sees when it is the case."

The mare just kept staring, huffing loudly as her nostrils worked away the vomit inside the mask. Her eyes were locked on a faint grin in the darkness, among the disfigured changeling bodies.

The repeated demands on the loudspeaker were still audible. Ever so slightly, the shapes of the apartment buildings could be seen through the small windows that let in bits of rain and the flashes of the thunderstorm.

“We all make decisions. Me and my accomplices made ours. Failures are very relative, you know,” the griffon spoke, his croaked, accented, aged voice echoing off the walls. He sighed. “You have been making the right decisions so far.”

“Have you?” The row of teeth in the dark continued to glare at the dove as she lay. It tilted with the slight motions of the boat.

“Don’t waste them rotting in a cell. There are wrongs to right, places to be and things to do,” he told her, bending to touch her shoulder, and thumping his cane against the floor. In another dark flash, the mare was gone from the corpse room.

"But what have you done?"

***

...from my experiences working with the police force, that the evidence I have collected in regards to this string of murders - yes, murders - is enough for a conviction. Senior officers of the CCPD know a lot of what I've come here to tell you, but the simple fact is, they won't have the public know. They want to weaponize ignorance. This has to come to light.

Would your move have anything to do with your recent demotion?

I don’t see how my rank in the police force has anything to do with the [UNPRINTABLE] media masquerade that’s been...

...

...Carol City’s law enforcement was key in stopping oceanside Equestrian riots during the Wedding War. What you're saying can be seen as a severe blemish on the honor of the force, don’t you agree?

I’m not gonna start discussing whether our cops are good or not, okay? Who did what years ago has nothing to do with this. Why do you think I came here, exactly? [Editor’s note: the interviewee was part of the now-rogue unit of Emergency Situation Assault Squads (ES/AS) that was performing its nefarious “riot control” during, and following, the Wedding War.]

Indeed, our readers have their...

...

...are just a few of the incidents that have been hushed up. I admit to following orders that lead to the fabrication of some of these events.

Does that mean that the CCPD believes our city is on the brink of revolt? Would you say that is why the ES/AS terrorists are here? Just how scandalous is this? Are we looking at another Packsmulle, or worse?

Yes, and no. I think perspective is important here; the political upheavals in our Yonaguni colonies came with a similar buildup, but resolved peacefully. Right now, though, pressure is building up because of the information blackout we've been helping facilitate. You have to understand that there are different degrees of public backlash possible...

...

...gang wars, however, we have seen them before. Carol City wasn't the most peaceful of places even before all this began. The gang violence that’s reported these past few weeks? Nothing like it. This is something entirely different. How do I put this... I've seen a lot in my time. I realize my anonymity does me no good, but I've been to a lot of places, and I've seen a lot of things. What I've seen here lately is not good news, and the way the actual news have been portraying it is... troubling. I've come here to say that there are animals among us in Carol City, and no, it is not the foreign fortune-seekers, and not even the changelings.

Sun Hearth Alley - 5:27 PM

Ditzy walked slowly through narrow alleyways, where raindrops tapped on the windowsills and fire escapes up above. She dragged the bag with her uniform and mask through the trash and mud of the murky, narrow confines. Shortly behind her, a timid unicorn filly was following close by, mouth scrunched looking at unfamiliar parts of town. Ditzy's good eye stared ahead, half-closed, while her bad eye stared upwards, static, blinking occasionally. She paused for a moment, looking at a sign at the end of the alley, a small barrel filled with short tongues of flame next to it. The words “Ocean Drive” could be seen on the sign, and behind it were palm trees and swiftly passing crystalline carts.

With a quick breath, the mare increased her pace. Her wet blonde mane obscured most of her bad eye. Her bloodshot good eye, as well as her sweat and rain-drenched snout, still covered in bits of vomit, kept pointing at the ground as her frame shuddered. The filly by her side followed up, glancing around worriedly. Her brisk pace turned into a limp just a few steps away from the sign. Ditzy leaned against a stained, poster-covered brick wall, huffing.

A figure emerged from the shadows up ahead. It had been standing by the barrel, invisible in the contrast of the dark night and the glow of the flames. It was a pale mare with a purple coat and blonde buzz-cut mane, wearing a dirty grey hoodie. Sheapproached Ditzy. Her horn was corroded and damaged, covered in bandages and patches. There were green spots near the corners of her snout.

Ditzy stared back at her. Instantly, a shaky wing shielded the filly to her side. Her bad eye crawled back into the middle of the orbit, slightly visible between clumped strands of hair.

“Hey!.. You don’t look too good there,” the mare told the pegasus. “Yknow, you should… do something about that, no?”

Ditzy stared back. The unicorn in front of her brushed her neck with a hoof and slightly opened the side of her hoodie, revealing a bundle of vials and pills strapped in there.

“Shit, y’know, you look like you need a fix… like, now. I’d normally make it seventy a pop and a hundred a glass, but looking at you… fifty and and eighty, eh? Twenty percent off if you buy a week’s worth, how’s that sound?”

Ditzy continued to stare, her mouth hanging open, with no noise coming out. Slowly, she dislodged herself from the wall and shook her head. One of her wings tensed up, and she kept her eyes firmly on the dealer.

“Really?” the unicorn said with a chuckle. “Come on, you’re not gonna get that shit anywhere else these days. Look at you, you don’t wanna get profiled, do you?” She pointed at the mare’s legs. Just above her hooves were patches of clotting blood. Ditzy glanced down, then back up at the dealer. “The big market ain’t gonna haggle with you, they're... heh... under pressure. It's this or bust, old lady.” The purple mare clinked her slightly shaky hoof against the vials on the inside of her hoodie.

Ditzy left the alleyway, letting herself get soaked by the rain, cleaning the blood off her chest and legs. She took a corner and headed home by the main road, which was all the way across the city from where she was. Dinky sighed, keeping close and quiet.

Chapter 12: Address

June 14th, 1013 AN - 6:37 PM

Carol City, Equestria

Ditzy sat on the bed in her room, her back resting against the wall. The bed sheets were crumpled and spread all around, mixing together with dozens of pages of text, part of a larger stack waiting in a folder that lay on the night stand. The wind seeped in through the half-open windows to the side of the bed, ruffling the discarded sheets slightly. The greyish, solidifying paper sheets, much of the text upon them crossed out with different markers, got stuck to the stained carpet or fluttered against the weights, wing-cables, and treadmill that took up most of the room.

040703, Sunlight Avenue. Public toilet found with mess of bodies (4ch2pn) during another monarchist riot. ES/AS cut everyone off and took media attention away. Forensics got no clue what this is, definitely not our riot control. Two detectives lost lunch. Press wants to insist it’s a serial killer now, too. Com let me handle the situation, so for now it's Efree wildlife smuggling gone wrong. Not sure if even a ling can do this? - VP

A dim reflection of the mare’s silhouette showed on the wooden cupboard by the door as the neon signs outside went dark, flickering and sparkling with crystalline electricity. The half-open door of the wardrobe croaked as it moved back and forth slowly, the sleeve of a postal outfit within peeking in and out of view. The reddish rays of the evening sun, dimmed by the thick clouds, just barely illuminated the page she held in front of herself.

060703, Puddinghead Square. Dozen corpses found at 4 AM, streetsweeper called us in. Still stuck at the shrink. Damn massacre, cant get used to this. Obvious gang activity? Local Galiceno group and displaced hoodlums, packs of illicit joy found on both. Easy to write off as gang crime, bad for mayor, good for press. Not sure, however. Firearms went off, but no crystal in bodies. Injuries also very different to gangs, like a feral ling, only much more aware. Either homebrew joy is getting this f'd, or Com's got a point. Ponies will lose their minds if this gets out... - VP

The mare sat almost completely still, good eye slowly browsing the text. Eventually, she reached for a marker and blacked out another large patch of text, scribbling over several pictures. Her marker made a long, trailing stroke, to pause when the sounds of changeling wings buzzing came from outside. After a few moments of immobility, the mare sprung up, ears perked, and got to the window, squinting her good eye.

Outside, a group of flying equines had gathered near the sparking sign on top of a nearby building. They circled around it, a pegasus in an orange jumpsuit pointing his hooves at certain parts of the sign. The neon light went out, after which the hovering pegasus glanced over his shoulder to meet Ditzy's gaze. He immediately turned away and spat on the ground, then smacked the worker next to him. The other equine’s wings paused and began flapping like regular pegasus wings, as opposed to staying static while blurry silhouettes of insectoid drone wings fluttered inbetween. The jumpsuit pegasus fixed his wings too, shaking his head and rubbing hooves against his temples.

The repair crew now acted like regular ponies, and after a few minutes, the mare took her eyes off them. Turning back, she glanced at the papers covering the floor and the mess on her bed. Closing her eyes, Ditzy approached the door, stretching out a forehoof. She missed the light switch and instead nudged a framed picture of a smiling tall, white mare with wings and a horn, whose multicolor mane went outside the frame. The picture was left tilted. Sighing, Ditzy put her forehoof down and nudged the door open with her shoulder.

She made her way into the kitchen. Dinky was curled up on the couch, watching the videodrome. The windows were all opened wide, sucking in as much wind from outside as possible, making the curtains swing and swivel constantly. The mare peeked at the screen and stared at the pitch blackness with a wide, long row of teeth in the middle. The sound of a news report could be faintly heard from the speakers.

“What are we turning into?” The blackness and the teeth went fuzzy, and the unicorn filly sighed, pressing her hoof against the remote several times, switching to other channels.

Taking slow, long steps, the mare approached the couch, her good eye alternating between the screen and the filly. Her bad eye twitched and moved at random. Dinky yawned and rubbed her face, lowering a hoof to look at her mother with one eye.

“Hey…” the filly said, stifling another yawn. “It’s so moody today. I dunno if I’m even awake… Uuugh… I thought it would get better in the summer.” She glanced at the screen lazily and chewed idly on her lower lip. “I’ll get milk later…”

Ditzy opened her mouth, letting out a short raspy sound, and raised her hoof, only to exhale and remain still. She hung her head and shook it, circling the couch with her eyes closed. The warm wind blew her mane back, casting some of the beads of sweat off her face.

“What is there left to do? Isn’t this all the same?” Ditzy grasped for the balcony door handle and pulled it open. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, putting her forehooves onto the railing. She watched the crystalline traffic speeding on the road below, as well as the rare pedestrians. There was commotion further up the beach, with a group of ponies holding up signs, illuminated by the spotlight of a news airship.

She turned her head to look at the equine figure standing next to her, also leaning over the railing. It jittered and flickered, turning its shifting head to meet her gaze. Her good eye stared into its two blank holes. Her bad eye followed suit, twitching rapidly. The figure bent its head to look at a stool under its rapidly shapeshifting belly, where a letter lay underneath a light-wisp vial, the top of which was directly inside the figure’s body.

“Dear Ditzy,” a voice said. “It’s been a real blast working you these past few months. Rest assured that your management skills are absolutely nonpareil - solid! Your skill, efficiency, and, most importantly, your discretion are all immensely appreciated. Sadly, this is not something we can say about all of our employees. This is why we would like you to pay a visit to our casino and restaurant at 17th Crescent Street, where your layoff bonus is waiting for you. Good things don’t last forever, and it seems we have run out of opportunities in this city. Give us one last good show for old times’ sake, and rest assured that we will put in a good word with any other business in the area that could use your help. We have paid attention to your interests as of late, so expect a little surprise. As for us, it is time to pass on to greener pastures. You’ve been a great help. Sincerely, Flim of the Flim-Flam Foundation.”

The videodrome back in the living room screeched with static, almost drowning out Dinky’s frustrated mumbling. The figure stared at Ditzy, oozing with red and green, its limbs occasionally snapping at various angles. It lifted its hooves and touched its shifting face a few times, occasionally pushing them right through the skull and somehow keeping balance on only its hind legs.

The mare remained on the balcony for half an hour, staring at the wide row of teeth that lingered beside her. When raindrops began to patter on the roof, she went back inside.

Ditzy patted Dinky on the head and gave her a brief nuzzle before gesturing to the filly’s room. She sighed and nodded, mumbling something incoherent in response. Ditzy went back to her own room, emerging a few minutes later in her blue postal uniform, a bag hanging by her flank. She left the apartment, the motion of air causing a pack of yellow bills slipping off a stool next to the front door. The door opened to reveal a large, colored piece of graffiti depicting a pink heart, dark blue crescent, and purple star within a yellow circle, whose limbs stretchedoutward. The symbol had been drawn over an older image of an armored hoof coming down on a cockroach. The mare left, letting the door swing shut on its own.

***

17th Crescent Street - 9:50 PM

Ditzy moved under the cover of darkness, avoiding the bright crystalline glow of the scarce streetlights. The street was wide and nearly empty, the lights out in the apartment buildings, and almost all the neon signs on the nearby businesses had been switched off. Tall, glassy shapes of illuminated office complexes loomed over the street, massive projectors displaying still images onto them.

The only neon light still on was perched on a two-story establishment right in the middle of a cul-de-sac, the bright letters of its name lighting up a portion of the street with a bright green. A police vehicle was parked next to it, with an officer standing by the entrance and talking to a tall white-and-brown hawk griffon covered in belts, wearing tinted goggles. A pair of bags lay on either side of the griffon, who occasionally articulated oddly and clicked her talons.

A pair of stallions in Tunnel Snakes hoodies, metal bars kept on their backs, stood by the reinforced door of the casino. One of them shook his head, looking away into the dark, not far from where the mare stood in the darkness between a pair of streetlights. She entered a small pathway between two buildings further down the road, while the stallion lowered his head and put a glowing smokestick in his mouth.

Ditzy scaled a short apartment building and hopped across three others via the rooftops. The narrow, lengthy pathways between the clumped structures were almost pitch black, making her narrow her eyes each time she looked down. Going from the city’s luminous multicolor skyline to the dark spaces below, she saw nothing except a dark, barely equine shape, whose teeth stretched from one wall to the other. The only other presence was a big, shuddering, horned figure that hid behind a dumpster, keeping a jagged limb against its mouth, which spat green sparks. It occasionally leaned forward to glance at the police cart, then immediately jerked back into its hiding spot. Ditzy looked upon the last building before the casino, and she made the jump once it was no longer visible behind the wobbling, unsteady dark shape and its teeth.

She ended up right next to the roof of the casino, the four-story apartment building she stood on top of towering over the other structure. Up there, moments after she looked down, a dull flash enveloped a dark equine figure holding onto a barrel-shaped object. A dim green vortex spiraled into the air above, dissipating before it got even to Ditzy’s level, as the figure was no longer there. Three goggled equines in hoodies stood by the corners of the roof, while another, a unicorn wearing a cheap black suit, jotted something into a notepad that floated in front of her. After he finished, she put the notepad back in her suit and clapped her hooves, alerting the rest. The three came up to the mare and started conversing.

The mare put her bag down and unzipped it. Ditzy slipped the dove mask over her head, and for a few moments she just stood still, breathless, eyes closed. With an exhale, she turned back, collected a few bricks that littered the roof, and filled her bag with them. Zipping it back and fastening it against her side, she spread her wings and made a dive toward the lengthy roof of the casino.

“The Crown Casino and Restaurant” - 10:12 PM

The dove landed hard onto one of the hoodlums, while her bag struck a glancing blow on the head of another. Blood splattered onto the fabric, while the pony dropped to the floor limply. The chains around his forehooves rattled as they fell beside his crushed face. The one she had landed on did not struggle much longer, as she smashed through its head with her forehoof, dousing it in sizzling green liquid as it tore through the changeling’s neural cortex, tossing up a cloud of green vapor. The unicorn in a cheap black suit stared at the violence with her jaw hanging, and she lit her horn while trying to exit through the doorframe that led to the building proper.

The dove spun around rapidly, launching the heavy bag right at the unicorn, causing a few loud cracks and sending her tumbling down the stairs. Green sparkles and faint fizzling followed the fallen unicorn as her disguise faded in and out, and her horn emitted one last bright green flash before it went dim. The broken glasses slid off her snout shortly before becoming green vapor as well, which then snaked further down and entered the casino proper on its own.

The third Tunnel Snake had backed away as soon as the killer landed on the roof, and he made his way to the opposite side of the lengthy roof, occasionally stumbling on the vents, and eventually he fell when a curved knife hit him right in the side. The pegasus made a wing-powered leap to get close and finish him as he tried to crawl away, bashing his head into the stonework. She then headed down the steps, hopping over the deceased synaptic along the way. The door had been left open, but the dove quickly reached out to pull it shut, after which she kicked it in with her hind legs. A thug with a short leg-mounted gun swore loudly as the door turned his snout into a leaking, bloody mess, and he was quickly silenced when the mare rammed his head into a sturdy pinball machine.

One floor below, all around the rhombus shape of bar stands surrounded by stools, were various relentlessly noisy, flashy, luminous slot machines and other gambling terminals. Among the intense contrast of colors, a contingent of hoodlums shuffled around, some groups gathered around non-functioning machines, kicking them apart and piling cash into bags. A few unicorns were present as well, breaking anything made of wood into proportionate pieces and having the lesser gang members pile it onto heaps of flammable trash, which the unicorns then doused with gasoline and set aflame with greenish sparks.

Several identical griffons were perched on a tall statue of a stylized gold and red crown, only their eyes moving to track the plunder. While these were caught up in their work, the rest of the Tunnel Snakes instantly turned their heads to where the pegasus had arrived, blinking at her for a few moments with distinctly green eyes. Avian screeches emerged first from near the entrance of the casino, far further away, after which the hawks on the crown sprung up. A low hum spread through the foundation of the building, rattling the empty bottles, glasses, and arcades on the second floor.

She continued down the bar areas that hung over the first floor like a catwalk, disposing of two thugs that attempted to attack her at once, swinging bars of metal held in their forehooves in her direction, and missing as the pegasus took a single step back. One of them shook his head, clanging the many piercings stuck through his face, and sped away backwards, dropping his bar - which the dove used to gorge the other’s throat in after he had been knocked on his back with a headbutt.

A griffon landed on the second floor by then, flying over from the tip of one of the tines of the crown, and immediately tore into the fleeing thug violently, pushing him down on the floor and turning most of his face into a brief shower of red over the duration of five seconds. That gave the mare enough time to crouch down and strain her legs. When the griffon squawked, hopping off the mutilated corpse and launching herself at her, the pegasus spun in place, smashing the heavy bag into the griffon, propelling her with a loud crack and a wisp of green vapor draining out of its crushed head. The body lost its plumage, belts and goggles halfway during flight, landing several meters behind the dove, who clung to a wall, as a twisted, black, jagged corpse with enlarged, bulging snake-like eyes. Leaving the bag where it lay, the mare used the time to get a grip on a large metal bar dropped by one of the thugs

Using both forelegs to hold the strapless weapon, she got on her hind legs, keeping balance with wings. Multiple groups of disheveled ponies in dirty dark grey hoodies, some of them copied over more than twice, were making their way up the stairs to her. They stood completely silent, swinging blunt weapons, chains and leg-strapped knives. Their formation was spread out, and they were all tensed up, their hind legs a step further back than usual. A dull green glow would occasionally flash in all of their eyes. After a single look, the dove swung into the air and moved, keeping herself vertical, with a grip on the bar, off the blockaded branch of the second floor, flying over the sunken in dance floors and gambling machines below.

Over a dozen green eyes followed her as she immediately maneuvered, a shriek alerting her to an airborne attack. One of the griffons on the first floor jetted upward, missing narrowly, after which she was joined by a clone, who attacked from another angle, missing as well, then another. By when there were four airborne combatants, several of the changelings from the formation jerked in place, quickly flashing to reveal their drone bodies, from the sides of which protruded their insectoid wings, with which they, changing back to their pony disguises, took into the air.

One of the thugs below aimed a stubby gun at the pegasus and fired, the sparkling bullet being instead successfully dodged by one of the griffons who had been continuously shifting in the air in rapid motions, chasing the mare. She was moving side to side in quick dashes, while the hawks were constantly in motion, trying to either come at her from the front or circle from behind, consistently being left a meter too short. The changelings that took off into the air tried to block off dodge paths, but instead were simply rammed into and rapidly bashed, falling down in a spill of green. The ones that weren’t fell as well, taken by more friendly fire.

The gunshot alerted more of the ranged hoodlums trashing the establishment, causing a much more sustained hail of fire, now including the sizzling green bolts fired by the unicorns, and it also drew away the griffon changeling that was nearly hit. When the gunner’s snout was mostly bone covered in jagged talon marks, and there was not a presence within ten meters of him on the floor, that griffon returned to air - where both of the remaining hawks had already been eliminated, sent downward, one with a cracked wing and a neck twisted on the top of a slot machine, another on a dancefloor with the stained piece of metal lodged in the chest. The impact of its body had turned on the disco lights and music, which were mostly overridden by the persistent hail of gunfire aimed at the dove, who remained dashing in the air.

The griffon hopped up on top of the rhombus of food stands and remained perched there, huffing in an echoed tone, glaring upward. The pegasus kept her eye on the hawk, continuing to shift in the air, evading constant gunfire. The changeling Tunnel Snakes had in the meantime spread all over the venue, two remaining on the side they had initially gathered at, three groups of three taking up points of the labyrinth of gambling machines on the first floor, and a team of five standing still on the other second floor branch. The dove turned her attention to them next as she leapt over to some distance away from them - in the meantime, the firing died down, one gun by one. Smacks, shouting, and eventual cracks were heard from the cluttering mass of gangsters, surrounded by piles of crystalline shell casings, and were overcast by a nearly ultrasonic shrill screech that came from the the entrance when another griffon walked in on the scene.

The screech caused the mare’s attack on the grouped up thugs to nearly fail, as her wings went stiff halfway through her ramming one of the unicorns. He kept his balance instead of toppling over, halting her advance as well, but giving her time to sweep back to avoid the remaining four who charged at her. The entire group of five soon began to advance, while the nine that were below started to line up anywhere that could have made for a landing zone, ignoring the fighting going on with the non-changeling contingent. One that came the closest to successfully swiping at her with a sleeve-bound switchblade was grabbed by the leg that was armed, and carried to the back of that branch of the floor with several flaps of the dove’s wings. He almost thrashed his leg out of the grip, evening himself, but was thrown to the floor and had his face stomped on half a dozen times, while the remaining four closed in steadily.

An inconspicuous pair of black doors near the end of the stairs that lead to that branch of the second floor clapped loudly, one of them covered in claw marks. A stream of Tunnel Snakes that had been thrashing the casino was now advancing to the second floor, avoiding multiple torn apart corpses, barely identifiable aside from the remnants of hoodies, chains and occasional multicolored mohawks, bangs and half-cuts.

As the dove’s hoof tore through the glowing cortex, a brief green flicker passed over every changeling in front of her, having them crouch momentarily. Just as their disguises came back on, they were scattered, as she torpedoed into their ranks, gutting two at once, crouching at her own knees to sink the wing knives deeper into their heads. A wooden bat carried by one of the remaining changelings nearly came down on her wing, missing narrowly, as the mare galloped toward the stairs that lead to the main floor. The backup from downstairs took up most of the stairs, and the three at the front already swung their heavy chains at the approaching mare - however, she skidded to a halt and threw herself down to the first floor just a few meters short of them. A moment later, flashing crystalline bullets hit the general area she used to be in, causing ruckus and screaming among the hooligan horde.

The nine changelings downstairs that had been tracking the dove’s movements formed up to surround her once she came down. The trio that had been standing the closest threw themselves to the side, causing the pegasus to land on hard tile. They quickly formed a ring, while the crowd at the stairs began to turn back. The ring began to close in, and the griffon that had been perched on the food stands leapt down, crouching on all fours, and squawked loudly, with an echo, her head twisting in several directions at once. As the killer looked over the gathering, she stayed in place for a moment.

In a swift, jolting move, she crouched and launched herself to the side, mere moments before a trio of green bolts blew a small crater where she stood. She rammed into one of the oncoming changelings, narrowly missing his crowbar, and she took down a pair from the backup descending nearby. Only the changeling was finished off with a rapid stab of a knife through its throat, the knife remaining stuck - the pegasus darted through the opened set of doors, disappearing down a narrow, dark corridor.

A cacophony of shouts and booming, breaking noises followed into the tight corridor, echoing off the walls as the mare cantered at high speed. A couple of thugs that managed their way into the doors, barely fitting in the tight space, nearly dropped their heavy melee weapons when the base of the establishment shook multiple times. The first quake saw a quickly disappearing green web speed over the walls, while the next five were all less powerful, but came in quick succession, and from the main hall. The music that came from the dance floor pads paused and then came back chewed up, slowed down, and distorted. Piling on each other from the tremors, the thugs were left behind - after a quick glance at them, and then a tilt of the head to the shaking main casino floor, the killer sped away down the corridors, while they tried their best to regain lost balance and follow her, mashing together between the narrow walls, no more than one and a half meters across.

The mare cantered down a long series of paths, all of them just as narrow, weak crystalline lights blinking from the disproportionately tall ceiling. Every now and again, there would be doors into rooms, but all of those rooms were emptied out, only plain office furniture left behind, bolted into the floor. She kept advancing through the labyrinth, ceasing to check every room at one point. The shuffling of thugs squeezing ended - it was exchanged for loud, wet, fleshy noises and brief yelps, after which there were more hoofsteps battering against the plain floor, further back behind the mare.

Her own pursuit halted shortly as well - she arrived to where the corridor lead to a single door, from behind which there was rapid talking. The door was open a crack, unveiling a spacious pool chamber, devoid of water, but illuminated brightly, with a large, horned shadow falling on the wall that could be seen through the door.

The dove’s beak butted the door open right when the shadow began to move, joined by another, which backed away and sped off. It was a unicorn mare in a cheap black suit, clumps of turquoise hair falling over a pair of taped-together glasses, from behind which two bloodshot eyes stared at the pegasus. The mare backed away and stumbled, falling on her rump. She dropped a notebook and her glasses, neither of which were picked up when her horn lit up brightly.

The bigger shape, however, was a bovine changeling that sat on its knees, shuddering in place, a syringe sticking out of one of its arms. Its hands were clenching its face, which flickered back and forth between asymmetrical chitin and a blurry visage of a minotaur. Before it rose and made a first uneven step toward the dove, she thrust her wing forward, dislodging a knife from its wingspace and sending it right into the minotaur’s chest. The chitin cracked and liquid synapse flowed, but the changeling continued to walk, getting quicker, more of the original visage’s features appearing.

She narrowly crouched under a fist, which had spiked knuckles form on top of it shortly afterward. Another knife flew into the changeling’s back, quickly getting thrown out as the bull spun in place even faster, rushing at her with a start. The mare ran to the side, sending another knife into the side of the changeling, then thrusting another wing in his direction, to no effect. Green ooze poured out of the changeling, whose appearance was barely like that of the original minotaur, only a subtle haze of granite grey and green covering the malformed chitin, under which more of the synapse flowed, pulsating and shining.

He moved swiftly, leading the dove on a chase around the pool, until another tremor shook the foundation. The mare, meters in front of him, spun to face away and flapped her wings forward, bucking her hind legs. A loud thud and a slight crack saw the carapace take the impact of one of the hooves, but the knife that had remained in the stomach from the start got pushed in much deeper. The changeling opened his mouth in silence, falling on one knee. He dropped to the floor as the masked mare bucked again, forcing most of her hind leg through an eye socket.

The unicorn, who had crept away to a corner, glared at the heaving shape of the postal mare, who twitched her leg, covered in sizzling liquid. The pony’s teeth chattered loudly, her breaths louder than the rasps that came from beneath the dove’s head. A small firearm dangled in front of her face, shaking in the dim telekinetic grip, the absent leg strap swinging in the air. Words tried to leave her mouth as the other mare approached, but all that came out was a squeak as the gun was swept aside with a wing, and the unicorn’s head was repeatedly bashed against the wall, untiil there were small pieces of glass stuck to the blue uniform, covered now in red more than green.

With more, heavier hoofsteps getting closer, the dove entered the next room through the only other door in the pool. As the door’s handle was pushed, it banged open, bashing the mare on the snout and forcing her backwards, a leg raising to shield her face. A powerful gust of wind emerged from the room, blowing out small folders, papers, pens, and other office equipment.

There was a long, narrow table in the room, on top of which stood a feminine synaptic, whose horn glowed brightly, forming a brightening green aura around her. The green magic wrapped over numerous bound folders and several canisters filled with a colorless liquid. The changeling was moving her mouth, shouting, but the voice was lost to the force of summoned wind. Wisps of green vapor were being sucked into the horn, each spreading the aura a little. The synaptic's partly singed mane swung in the wind, greenish strands beating against unevenly regenerated carapace on her face. Some of the many chairs in front of the table were sent flying, crashing into the banging door and causing the mare to roll.

The dove began to progress toward the door again, crouching and folding her wings, when another shape became visible in the dim, long room. The hawk that had ran down the labyrinth first stood closely behind the synaptic, also talking, spreading her arms and shuffling metal-clad talons. Her shadow covered up the large, blank presentation slider on the opposite side of the room. When the mare had to sink into the ground to avoid another chair, losing momentum to the wind, the griffon’s beak stayed open for a moment, goggled eyes giving the masked mare a look. The hawk stretched, swiping her tail, and shrieked loud enough to be audible behind the wind.

Her body collided with the synaptic's and she sunk her claws into her carapace, tearing out a whole chunk of the mid-section and leaving the head to hang limp off the side of the table.

The wind ceased, and Ditzy was thrown forward a few steps, having been making long, heavy steps toward the door. The green, vaporous aura disappeared, albeit with it went the cisterns and a small portion of the wood on the table. The griffon detached her claws from the dead body, wiping the steaming liquid synapse on her chest feathers.

Seeing the pegasus enter through the door, staring at her from behind the mask, she raised a hand, clattering the metal points put at the ends of her talons. An approaching sound of heavy hoofsteps had her tilt her head, after which the hawk’s curt beak contorted, and she sunk into the folders and papers that lay next to the dispatched changeling.

“Never liked you, Parallax,” she growled, scratching at her beak for a moment. “Shoulda just served my time instead of dealing with this shit. Changebugs... motherfucking dweebs.”

Ditzy stood and heaved, her good eye open wide and staring straight forward under the mask. The hawk breathed out, pulling out a select piece of paper, which she took in her hand and pushed against the beak of the dove mask. A raspy voice began to emerge from her own beak, but instead there was a loud bang. The door flew off the hinges. Ditzy grabbed the paper and rolled off to the side, while the hawk was downed onto her back, laying on the table. She propped herself upward with her large wings, and shouted:

“Alright, calm now! We’re—” The next moment, a pale blue flash spread through the room. When it was gone, the griffon was frozen in place, covered in thick ice.

Five figures had entered the room, all covered completely in armor. Two unicorns in sleek, rubbery purplish suits and long gas masks, one’s oculi glowing dark orange, another’s pale blue - his horn, wrapped around by wires, with a small light on top of it, was in afterglow. One earth pony in bulkier, segmented armor, with a quietly buzzing riot shield attached to one of his forelegs, one unicorn in a more crystalline set of white and red, also with a shield, a smaller one, which bore a red cross and had syringes and a green vial peeking from the bottom. Finally, a pegasus clad mostly in cloth, snout covered up by a balaclava, eyes shielded by pitch black weather-grade shades, was slowly approaching the mare, who remained on the floor, looking at the team. Each of them had the letters “ES/AS” on their breastplates, as well as the shields for the ones that bore them.

Her eye stared at the numerous razor-like attachments on both of the pegasus’ wings, which were quickly folded. They stopped several steps away from her, and a muffled, distorted, static-imbued voice spoke:

“It’s okay. We are not here to harm you.” After the pegasus said that, they slowly extended a hoof toward the mare. She lay still, staring.

“Shell shock?” came a similarly distorted voice from one of the remaining four.

“Not this one,” answered another voice, the red-and-white trooper’s glassy helmet turning.

“We won’t do anything to you. We know who you are.”

The mare began to get up, slowly. Her eye stuck to a dim corner, where a bulky, awkward, dark equine shape shook on unsteady legs, tilting its teeth at her. A file cabinet stood where the shape’s back side was meant to be.

“They do? Why not you?”

Head jerking, neck audibly cracking, Ditzy slowly turned to look at the pegasus with her bloodshot eye. Their hoof was still extended, covered entirely in thick cloth of random colors. The mare got up on her legs eventually, and continued to stare unevenly. The hoof drew away, and then waved in front of the dove’s beak. With a delay, the mare’s good eye followed.

“You’re not in trouble. Can you hear me?”

Ditzy nodded, huffing raspily. The dark shape in the corner fell over, its forelegs folding. Some of its head shifted into the wall, only the teeth facing the mare, the rest contorted and half submerged into the surroundings.

“Or yourself?”

“Okay... we just want your employers to know something.” the pegasus said. “If they think that you’re competition for us, or that you’re going to put an end to us, whatever they think - you aren’t. They took you, and like if you weren’t fucked in the head enough, they made you do this. Now that you did it… all you did was help us do our job.” He took a deep breath, voice buzzing slightly with radio static. He walked closer to the mare, the fabric on his snout touching the beak on her mask. “They should stop pretending. We all know exactly what we’re doing here. Look at what you can do - we have to work together. And we will. This whole country will. You’ll let them know that, okay?”

Slowly, the mare nodded. A distorted sigh came from the pegasus, who turned away and waved over the trooper in white and red.

“Lead her out of here.”

“Alright… after me, miss,” the pony in crystal gear told her. They moved to a set of doors that, upon opening, lead to a corridor similar to those in the labyrinth. Barely bending her legs, the mare followed them through the corridors.

They entered the main floor, emerging from the doors next to the stairs to the second floor opposite the ones where she entered the corridor system through. The casino had been completely destroyed, craters littering the floor, most of the machines having exploded, covering the floor with junk. Shreds of changeling carapace were left in some of the craters. The bodies that were left after the dove’s attack had been joined by those sliced in half, decapitated, or otherwise dismembered.

Some corpses were charred, others were bludgeoned and smoked. Bits of ice were spread all over. The food and drink rhombus in the middle had a huge dent in it, where a trooper in the same white and red crystal armor as the one Ditzy was following leaned over the bared foreleg of a gas-masked unicorn. Closer to the entrance, a group of five similar to the one that had arrived to the end of the labyrinth was gathered by the restroom doors. A pegasus trooper had his hoof on the shoulder of a shaking, pale Tunnel Snake, who knocked on the doors uneasily.

“C-come out. They’re— they got no beef with us,” the young pony said, his voice croaking.

She sidetracked for a few steps, going to where her discarded bag lay. A shieldbearer who stood there nodded as she approached, moving the bag closer to her with a hoof. The bricks had all been taken out.

Ditzy leaned forward and got the strap over her shoulder, and she continued after the trooper in red and white. The response from behind the restroom door was missed, as the mare was lead through to the entrance, going down a set of stairs, crossing a demolished face control area, and ascending up another set of stairs, through a blank space. She avoided the frozen bits of what used to be the thick armored door that covered the tile in front of the casino building.

“There you go,” said the trooper. They turned around and a section of their helmet lit up, a pouch on their flank opening up. Six curved knives were passed to her in a bunch. “This is yours. All we could find. You saved us a lot of time, so I guess we should save you the money. They'd rather pin this all on us, so your... discretion isn't under any threat.”

Ditzy’s forehoof rose and gently grasped the bundle of knives. They were dropped in the bag, and she turned around, making her way down the road she arrived on. The mare made her way past the police carriage, next to which stood two frozen police officers and a gasmask-wearing unicorn, whose oculi glowed orange. They were checking the watch on their hoof, tapping a hind leg.

The red-and-white trooper’s distorted voice sounded out again:

“We could get you help, you know. Your eye can’t be easy to deal with. And the—”

Ditzy’s walk turned into a canter. She disappeared around the block, taking her work clothes off and dumping them in the bag. On top of them, she gently placed the paper handed to her by the griffon. She sped through the darkness, head passing through the awkward blob and row of teeth that stood in front of her on the road, eventually getting into the neon lights of the next street.

***

...are everywhere, and there is no escaping that. What I am trying to say is… tensions have never really died down, especially not in Carol City. As part of our police department, I had access to sources for our monthly demographic relations graphs. To put it simply, the numbers are explicitly tweaked to end up somewhere in the harmonious zone.

So the cover-up is that wide? What other offices could be indicted as part…

...some good, all over the country. But in here? I will have to be frank, once again - Carol has never been a particularly peaceful place. When Equestria was only first extending its borders two thousand years ago, this place would pass from faction to faction, until the Princesses cracked down and took control. Even then, ponies from all corners of the world would end up here, and for one reason or another, they would not always have a peaceful occupation.

Plainly speaking, Carol City has a history of crime, long before crime was a plague on Equestria. I am not just talking history and numbers - I was born here, I've seen it all upfront. The numbers, however, did not change after the Prejudice Rock Pact - in fact, they died down. That was mostly due to the lasting impact of the methods employed by the ES/AS troops. What changed was the nature of crime. While investigations into highly suspicious companies - fronts, I would presume - are obviously lacking…

...that grim? What about all the Pact-citizen businesses and services provided in the city?

There are very few of them. The truth is, the number seems to have been inflated, as judging by personal, off-duty inspection, I have come to the conclusion that…

...while others, such as a casino on the southern side of the city, while widely considered to be pony-operated establishments, turn up changelings in various positions of the management hierarchy. Worse yet, those are not unintegrated, effectively rogue synaptics (Editor’s note: ES/AS slang for synapse-potent changelings) that many rabble-rousers are scaring ponies with. Those are first-wave changelings, many of which did not even actively partake in the Wedding War. I do value my safety enough to avoid disclosing names, but it's safe to say that anyone with authority knows about this. All of this is well-known to a lot of the city's officials, yet we're given…

...the ponies? How could such behavior be explained?

Yes, I am sure that it is the ponies. It is our own citizens. There is no point denying that starting with the long, terrifying slog that was the Wedding War, ponykind has changed. It's an inarguable fact. Shortly after the Emergency Situation Assistance Squads went rogue in 1009, I began to work closely with the seaside regional police. I have seen several crime scenes, had access to reports, and assisted in multiple investigations. Now, only a few of these stories slipped into the media, with one in particular being blown up and sensationalized more than others - the Seashore Killer, a story from very shortly after the breakout of the Wedding War and the Tragedy at the Crystal Empire. The truth is, there were many, many more, before 1009 and after. Back then, a similar tactic was employed, with any information being snuffed, but I find it hard to deny that the riots...

...consequences?

I don’t think there are any. Neither of the war, nor of the Princess’ efforts. I will be frank... The only benefit I have seen over the years was to the textile industry. Everyone’s already forgotten that just ten years ago, clothes were for fashion and for utility - now we continue to dress as cliques, even though we’re not trying to weed out changelings anymore. We think we’re back to how it used to be, or that we’re better, but we’re not. I fear I might sound like a homeless street-corner lunatic, but the Wedding War never ended, it stayed with us. I mean, we have homeless lunatics now, don't we? We continue to fight, to be afraid, despite all the activism and the propaganda. All of us. It's taking its tall on our people. But that is not all... Carol City in particular is becoming a centerpoint for this disorder. The ones that had cracked and warped, I have reason to believe they are being used by an external force to drive a campaign of terror across Equestria.

So you do agree with the public stance on the ES/AS?

Have you been listening?..

Crystal Square - 00:24 AM

Ditzy walked down by a wide plaza, passing under bright streetlights, crystalline carriages speeding past her. A row of palm trees that aligned with the path came to a stop when her hooves went from asphalt to tile, clopping several times against it. A flicker of the great light over one of the statues in the middle of the square caused her to turn her head. It came back on, illuminating the frazzled, heavily breathing mare. Her coat was a darker shade of grey from the sweat that was yet to dry away. A police siren blared close by.

Her good eye squinted, and she made a few steps in the direction of the statue. It sparkled in the light, devoid of stains or dust, shining with bright colors. Her eye stayed on the image of a pink alicorn mare and a white unicorn stallion, clad in a regal, pompous dress and suit, their forehooves wrapping around each other’s. A large necklace wrapped around both their necks, connecting in the middle with a large heart-shaped ruby hanging down. Below it lay twelve decayed, dessicated bodies, wearing greying pink palmtree shirts and baggy, dark street clothing. A small fountain bubbled behind the scene.

“You… you know… I get it now. All of this?”

Ditzy lowered her head and looked at the base of the statue. A vague griffon shape, covered in misshapen chitin, shook in a seizure. Drones in poor, baggy clothes, with beaten-in carapaces and dim eyes, lay shivering next to it. The big, wobbly foreleg made of darkness brushed against one of their backs, bending at the joint. It bared its teeth at the mare.

“Is not real… This just never happened. Look…” the avian said, clicking its talons. “Look… it’s over… it’s over… can I go now?..”

The mare stared at the pile of changelings cradling themselves, weeping in distorted tones, and left the plaza. A police carriage pulled up as she disappeared from view, officers rushing to the base of the statue.

Chapter 13: Found

-

May 25th, 1013 AN - 4:33 PM

Carol City, Equestria

15 Minuano Ave

Two mares lay under a blanked on a couch, spooned together, the rising wind blowing through their manes from the half-open window. A wide videodrome screen was flashing pictures and making noise in front of them, but neither pony paid attention. One of them, a yellow-coated grey-maned earth mare, was asleep, while the other, a thin, pale, purple unicorn with a messy stroke of blonde hair on top of her head and sunken in cheeks, lay with eyes half closed, staring at a shelf full of gilded and silvery cups and statuettes.

The palm trees shook outside the windows, rustling in the wind, some tapping rhythmically against the walls and windows of the second floor. They cast shadows into the room, obscuring the small amount of sunlight coming from the sun that hid behind a cover of clouds. The unicorn mare blinked and shook her head, then reached for the remote and fell short of grasping it, as it was on a short glass table some distance in front of the couch. She draped her foreleg over the other mare’s side, sighing, and closed her eyes with a yawn.

Two rapid, heavy knocks on the door sent her jolting upright, eyes wide. Her head turned to look at the earth pony, who only shuddered a little in her slumber, flicking an ear, noticeably lighter tinted than the rest of her coat. The unicorn held her hoof against the base of her horn, exhaling with a gurgle. She removed herself from under the blanket and folded it up to cover the other mare entirely, nuzzling her side before waddling over to the door, narrowly avoiding a coat rack and a drawer along the way. Her slouched posture straightened up, and her eyes moved into focus when she saw the figure behind the door through the compass-shaped ornate glass on the front door.

It was a tall, lean, bipedal minotaur, whose pair of sharp, stunty horns were just a bit out of view. She wore a buttoned-up black suit, tie and skirt, as well as a white shirt. Despite the color-shifting enchanted tint of the glass, the unicorn saw the minotaur’s glasses glinting in the sun, while the eyes behind them stared right at her.

“Fuck me,” the mare said. The minotaur raised a hand to knock on the door again, but the unicorn gripped the handle with a forehoof and pulled it open, rubbing the base of her horn with the other. “Uhhh… Hello? There a problem?..”

“I am coming in,” said the minotaur, She was a light bronze-coated female with a narrow snout and a short braid of blonde hair. She wore a buttoned-up black suit, tie and skirt, as well as a white shirt. In her right hand was a small metal briefcase. She stepped in, not making much noise despite her having to bend and side-step to bypass the short door and the mare, who continued to stand in the hallway, her mouth slightly ajar.

“O… kay. So… is there a problem?” the mare asked again, quietly, voice shaking.

“Is your fiancée asleep?” the minotaur asked, straightening her suit and tie. She blinked and glanced down, watching a fat orange cat brush past her legs and waddle down the corridor, disappearing around a corner.

“How the fuck do you know that’s my fiancée?” the pony whispered out loud, lifting a forehoof in the air.

“She is. Go to the reading room, let us not wake her up.” The minotaur pointed at the door of the room behind the couch. By the time the purple unicorn entered, she had taken a seat in a big yellow armchair, just narrowly fitting in. “Close the door.”

The unicorn glared at the tall bovine and groaned, quickly peeking out of the room and lighting her horn up, clicking the front door shut. She closed the reading room as well and stood in front of the minotaur, a redwood table with several books on them separating the two.

“Okay, so, what the fuck, Lock?” she asked, hissing slightly. “I’m on leave, I’m not ready to do anything yet. The hell does the Boss want from me? I thought we were settled.”

“He wants you in on the operation Blacktop had been preparing for since the start of the year,” the minotaur replied. “The business summit, when they should all be there. He is moving ahead with it, and he wants everyone there. I think you have already figured out why it has to be now. The rest are weak right now, so he expects to take over and leave a lasting impression. It appears this has been our endgame in Carol City for quite some time, not that investors such as myself were informed.” She picked up one of the books and immediately put it back down. “I am also not ‘Lock’. It is Lockvara to you, Nexus.”

The mare swung her head back and grit her teeth. With a sharp exhale, she lit up her horn, and in a dim flash, changed shape into a lanky skull-faced synaptic with a mop of seaweed green on top of his head.

“Right, whatever. So what? Do I have to do, uh, everything? Like always? And what, how does he think is Blacktop going to have enough to cap the business summit - with sticks and harsh language? I thought that… thing was just prattling when he talked about this.” Nexus walked in circles, his eyes shifting around the many bookshelves and pictures in the room, ending up in front of an enchanted fireplace wall piece. ”Like, I don’t… Fuck this... I don't want my synapse going into his maw when I kill myself trying to win him this shitty pony town. I don’t know... I don’t want to.”

“You are not going,” Lockvara said flatly.

“Um?..”

“You are going with me. You are my new bodyguard.” She picked up another book, then put it back as well. "We are leaving tomorrow at 6 PM."

“...”

“You have been trying to get out of Blacktop for months. You do not want this anymore. You wanted to marry your girlfriend half a year ago, but to this day you have not, ecause you are afraid that thing would have a problem with it.” She kept listing things while looking over the paintings. “You have not cared about his motivation at any point. You joined to keep a promise you made to Synth. You have never looked into your organization's activities. You have also been embezzling Blacktop funds and taking heavy euphorium from our stashes for over a year.”

“What.”

“Blacktop is over. The climate has changed. This operation has no chance of succeeding. The magpie knows it too, but he has played all his cards. There are forces at play he does not want to acknowledge. I did not sign up to fund, network and bind by identity the scheme of an overgrown monstrosity with delusions of grandeur.” Lockvara stopped for a few moments to wipe her glasses, while Nexus stood in place, jerking his head, jaw hanging. “Everyone else is either on board with that creature, or does not have an alibi like yours. You have potential, however, and your history suggests I can use your aid moving on. Either you come with me, or you die.”

The changeling placed his forehooves against the table, lowering his head and giving a loud, sharp hiss. His messy hair obscured his face.

“Your fiancée comes as well. I have booked the tickets at the North-West Air Harbor. Tomorrow, we’re leaving for the Griffon Empire, where we will stay for several weeks, planning the next move. Be there by 4 PM with your essentials. You’ll be signed as my bodyguard, so they’ll let you in on an employment permit.”

“Great… the cow’s got my life figured out, huh. Well, what about Synth then? I don't get to leave him behind, fuck. He’s got me out of shit worse than this right here! I owe him.”

As he spoke, the minotaur rose and walked to his side, standing tall over him. Straightening her tie, she said:

“Synth cannot come. Your Boss already has him involved. He will be tracked, whereas you are on leave.”

With a quick move of her free hand, she grabbed the changeling by the throat and hoisted him in the air. Her arm was long enough so that he couldn’t buck her in the face, despite trying to. Lockvara placed her suitcase on the floor and raised her right hand, putting her index finger and thumb together.

“I can crush your little cranial cortex by pressing two fingers against your forehead. That will kill you fast. I can strengthen my grip and crack your neck right now. That will kill you slightly slower. Your body will partially melt, before your synapse leaves for the creature you currently obey. I can tear your hind legs off in two seconds and leave you to disintegrate. Wanderlust will wake up and find a molten puddle of chitinous sludge, your Boss will consume your synaptic remnant, whereas she will be incarcerated for her old charges. If you call me another name, I am saving the money for the air yacht tickets. This endeavor has been enough of a disaster for my finances, Nexus.”

Nexus nodded rapidly, as much as he could in the grip of an arm that rivaled the size of his torso. Slowly, he was put down on the table and left to sit, regaining breath with an echoing gurgle.

“There is more,” she said quietly. “Yours is not the only business I have invested into in this city, and you are not the only ones that failed.” She looked up at a picture painted in warm tones, showing a tall purple alicorn with her hoof stretched out, her forehoof pointing one massive group of ponies at an identical one. The minotaur touched the frame for a moment, angling it so the slightly tilted picture hung completely straight. “We are coming to collect what is ours. In three hours, the office building at 66th Sun Hearth Road.”

“What do I do?” he asked, getting off the table and wincing. Lockvara turned her head, her glasses flashing in the faint sunlight.

“What you always do.”

“Look like shit and act like a prick?” the changeling muttered under his breath. He shrugged, blowing a piece of his mane out of his eyes. The minotaur reached into her suit and pulled out a small vial of green with a needle at one of its ends. She passed it to him and he formed a green aura around it, keeping it in the air.

“Yes.”

Without another word, the minotaur left the house, opening the doors by herself. Once she was gone, Nexus groaned and fell to the floor, pressing his hooves into his face. The vial still floated above him. He looked up at it and whispered to himself:

“Sorry, Synth… Guess it’s the easy road for me.”

Putting the vial on a shelf, he got to his hooves and walked up to the earth mare on the couch. Flashing his horn for a moment, he switched his visage to that of the pale purple mare. Her hoof nudged the sleeping pony, who opened her eyes slowly, yawning.

“Wander… I’ve got good news and bad news.”

66th Sun Hearth Road - 6:42 PM

Nexus followed his new employer through the rotating doors of a small one-story office building covered in old notice papers and graffiti. A pair of guards in white suits let them through, one of them turning his head to mumble into the black bead by his mouth. Nexus looked around upon entering, noticing how the aging interior was devoid of any office work going on. Instead, the halls and some of the cubicles were filled with other guards in white and blue. Farther in the distance, on the other side of the maze of cubicles and walls, there was an active videodrome on the wall.

Seeing the minotaur disappear around the corner within seconds of having entered the building, he cantered after her, black tie loosening from the vest and swinging in the air. He caught up when she reached the other side of the offices, where four guards in sat on an untidy couch. A towering, muscular, bluish grey minotaur in a white suit leaned against a wall by their side, yawning as he stared at the screen. An assortment of rings covered his fingers, making them look roughly half a regular pony’s size.

“So we’re here for him?” Nexus asked, scratching a hoof behind his neck.

“This is a changeling,” Lockvara replied. She touched a part of the wall with her free fist. “I am not the only one who made the mistake of binding contract by identity. Gaur will be digging himself out of this situation on his own.” The wall glimmered and disappeared, revealing a flight of stairs. “You are meant to be able to tell. You are synapse potent.”

The changeling took a deep breath and remained silent, following the female minotaur down the stairs, barely catching up despite her having to bend and watch her step. At the end of the flight, they found themselves inside a drafty underground space. A narrow stone corridor led past several pairs of empty rooms filled with boxes of firearms and barrels of liquid to the side, and it ended in a big room filled with filing cabinets.

Inside was a Major leader, sitting behind a desk in the middle of the room. It was a white unicorn in a dark blue suit, whose electric-blue mane was slicked back, revealing several greenish spots and scars on his forehead. He sat with his hooves against his face, shuddering briefly once he saw Lockvara and Nexus approach. His eyes shifted to a pair of doors to his side, behind which another flight of stairs was visible. The unicorn sighed and raised a hoof, but was interrupted by the minotaur:

“Article eight of our contract. Hazard pay for two individuals plus eight imposters. The notice was sent yesterday, and I expect the sum to be here now.”

Nexus blinked a few times, then shrugged and leaned against the wall, drilling his eyes into the unicorn. He still had his hoof in the air and began to speak, but was again interrupted by the sound of hoofsteps up the stairs to his side, and the doors opened moments later. Four Major guards walked in first, followed by a slender crane griffon in blue, who tilted her head to the side at the sight of the minotaur, almost hanging off her elongated neck.

“This… is kind of not really the most optimal time, Miss—” the unicorn began.

Lockvara’s eyes narrowed slightly. “No, it is. I arranged for the meeting here and now, and I am taking my money. Your scheduling conflicts are your own fault.” While she spoke, Nexus looked at the entering thugs, who headed straight to the corners, giving the ones in the middle their space. The griffon had a curved grin on her beak, and she leaned against the wall opposite his.

The Major gulped. “What I mean to say is—”

Another swing of the doors saw yet another group enter the room. The changeling cocked his head and stared at them - they were a group of Los Caballeros in dark pink suits, followed by a bulky raven griffon in a matte black jacket. The raven squinted at the sight of the minotaur and passed a talon across his beak, tracing his thin moustache.

“This is awkward,” the raven said, turning his head. The ponies that came in with him joined the ones in white and blue, still leaving space in the room. A bright pink mare with a long, thick, pitch black mane nudged Nexus, who returned the motion. The two stared at each other, and the mare mumbled under her breath in her language, joining another of the thugs off to the side, leaving Nexus’ corner free.

“Our business comes first,” Lockvara said. “This will not take long. We take our pay and go, while you continue use the same credentials to issue Gaur—” She looked first at the white unicorn, then at the raven. “—and Torero their monthly pay. I am departing the initiative, so my contribution percentage can be added to their joint. That should be fair.”

Nexus rubbed his temple and shook his head, grimacing and baring a fang, which he quickly hid back under his lip. He sighed as the exchange continued and kept his eyes firmly on the newcomers.

“Under… stood,” the raven mumbled. “Leaving. I see.” He narrowed his eyes at the changeling in the mostly empty corner. “And your follower?”

“Not in active duty as part of any relevant organization, as of this work day.”

The griffon tilted his head, scowling as Nexus scowled at him. The conversation was broken up as the unicorn at the desk lifted his forehooves and cleared his throat. The two non-equines turned to look at him, while the crane was occupied twirling a stiletto around with her talons.

“Okay, so!..” he said. “I think I can, ahm, interject with an, uh, relevant statement. That is, as to why we are finding some difficulty with ensuring the transaction for you, Miss.” He looked at Lockvara, then turned to the raven. “And with the exact details of our agreement, Monsieur. Also, I’m pretty sure that we have an NDA on what we’re… going to talk about. Miss, are you sure this changeling—”

“Yes, he is my bodyguard.”

“Good. So… To be brief.” The unicorn got off his chair and walked over to the door on his right. He opened it and lit up his horn. “This is the state of things... which is, uh…. terrible.”

Levitating in his telekinetic grip was a bloodstained postal uniform and a rubber mask in the shape of a penguin’s head. The Majors guards who were closest to the door cringed and drew their eyes away. Nexus arched his neck and saw the corpse of a large earth pony, bent and twisted on his side within the small tool cabinet. The sharp, bland smell of odor debilitation magic filled the air.

“We’re kind of under attack,” he said. “All of us. Especially us, Majority Solutions. Nobody is getting it easy, though, even if you’re trying to hide it.” He clenched his teeth at the end and nodded at one of the gangsters in dark pink. “This is a really big, bad fight that’s going on right now. Our fellow ponies have kinda decided to lose their damn minds en masse, and they unanimously decided they do not like... entrepreneurs... the likes of us. What we’ve got in this tool closet got ten drones, five actual, trained fucking Majors, and two syns. One of those was bound to Gaur, and if any of you have seen him…”

The unicorn sighed, the side of his mouth twitching, while everyone else stayed silent.

“Finally, we managed to knock him out,” he went on. “Brought him here… Trust me, we tried, he said nothing. We tried, but this fat fuck spat in our faces. He’s not the only one either, I’m sure our Los Caballeros friends can attest to that.” The addressed party of gangsters all glared at him. “I saw one of them myself. It’s like they got a cutie mark in murder or something. This is fucking insanity! I don’t get how ponies can do this, and I mean physically! I’m pretty sure if there weren’t two dozens of street trash in that bar, I’d not be talking to you either. That freak was a pigeon - and they took out a legit minotaur, too. Road Rage, he ran the Tunnel Snakes, you may have heard?”

A slight murmur went through the room. Nexus yawned and looked at his wrist, rolling his eyes once he saw the time. A sharp, high-pitched, voice spoke up with an accent:

“Nah, the pigeon didn’t. I did.” The crane griffon twirled her stiletto in her talons, and she stretched an arm out to show it off. “Bull wasn’t going to live after this. Though… he’s not bullshitting any of you. This is bad. I don’t want to have to see one of those pricks coming for me.” She tilted her head and the stiletto inside a sleeve. “I like living. I like making money, too. I’m pretty sure everyone else does. Especially when their job isn’t to be stuck in the body of a freaking crane for weeks on end, ugh,,.”

“Should have read your contract, drone-bud,” Nexus said. His remark earned him a momentary glare from his employer, after which he straightened up and kept silent.

“Fuck you,” the crane replied in a low-pitched, distorted, echoing voice.

“Well, I think you all see what’s going on here,” the Major unicorn said. “This is not a time to be off our guard, and least of all is it the time to pull out. We want to be extra sure about the terms of our… alliance, Monsieur Corvine, and we can’t really be very liberal with our money right now, Miss Lockvara.” He paused, placing the evidence back and closing the door, the guards next to him inhaling audibly. “And honestly, we can’t be taking these psychopaths lightly. I could, perhaps, arrange a meeting with Mister Flam for you, Miss? Your body certainly looks like you’d be more than a bit of help in a fight. We could spare the exact money you want for an identity bind contract.”

The minotaur was quiet, and she took a few steps toward the desk. Nexus cringed, baring a fang, when he saw her fingers tighten around the handle of her briefcase, the first motion of hers he had noticed in some time.

“I did not expect Majority Solutions Limited, or Inter-Continental Solutions Limited, or, in fact, any of the organizations I financed and networked for, to fail as massively as they have,” Lockvara narrated in a monotone. “The data you gave me indicated that all of you were reliable in the jobs you were given. You were not.” She straightened her suit and tie, while Nexus shook his head, wincing, his eyes shifting. “There was no option for me to predict what would happen. I had, and continue to have, my own plans and ventures. And unlike ponies, I cannot make my work easier through magic… yet I’d argue I’ve still done a better job.”

The raven had stepped closer to the door on the left by then, standing there on his hind legs, leaning against a black tube. The unicorn, in the meantime, shuffled in place, gritting his teeth. Nexus’ employer moved to stand right in front of his desk, nearly obscuring the light from the crystal lamps on the ceiling.

“I’m sure this is negotiable, we just need to—”

Lockvara interrupted again, though she did not raise her voice. “I am taking the money today, now, as we discussed.”

The unicorn’s blue suit crinkled loudly as he contorted, his forehoof lifting in the air, a high-pitched groan forming in his throat. With a long, languid sigh, he moaned out:

“Would you open your eyes? We’re being shat on at all fronts, we’re folding operations, moving offices, we’re getting lectured for the summit! Just a few Sun and Moon-damn days ago, I was sitting in a cushy office at our bank, and now it's a massacre site! That fat fuck and his friends are slaughtering - SLAUGHTERING! - everyone they don’t like! Ass stamps in grade-A murder! We have to band the hell up and take back our city!” He walked in circles behind the desk. “But no, just because you threw some cash our way, kick-started some other lowlives and hooked us up with these horned pricks, you get to come in like a fucking bulldozer?! Or is it cow-dozer in your case, huh?” The unicorn glared at her, banging his hooves on the desk. The shaking turned over a framed, signed picture of a toothpaste-maned white stallion with a grin that nearly reached from ear to ear. The two griffons smacked their faces with their taloned hands. Nexus covered his up as well, turning around and walking a little off, closer to the entrance to the room.

A high-pitched scream erupted in the room, then shortly devolved into gurgling and quiet sizzling. Nexus rolled his eyes with a smirk. Sighing, he wheeled around and looked into the entry corridor, to where the flight of stairs was. He turned his head around just as there was a soft thud. The unicorn fell on the floor, mouth agape, hooves grasping near his forehead, which was rabidly frothing with weak sparks. Lockvara opened her previously fisted hand and let a pile of jagged fragments fall to the floor.

“If you claim neither of us can do magic, I do not see what need you have for this appendage,” the minotaur said. “Let Mister Flam know.” With that, she turned away and headed off to the corridor. Nexus followed silently.

They left behind the room, which suddenly turned much noisier, and they ascended the stairs, where the four chopped up bodies of the guards they had seen before lay in a pile.

7:20 PM

Nexus barely grunted in time when a pony figure leaped out from behind a corner. It was a pegasus wearing a blue postal uniform and a rubber seagull mask. The pegasus looked at him, then at the minotaur, and they swiftly bent a foreleg at a peculiar angle before releasing it, springing it forward.

The changeling rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a large cleaver. Lockvara stayed in place, lifting her briefcase arm just enough so the knife hit the metal. The next second, she was right up against the seagull-masked pale pink pegasus and bashed his head with the same briefcase, driving the handle of his knife through his skull.

The changeling got back on his hooves, while the minotaur finished wiping her briefcase and flicked the knife away. She turned around to face him, ignoring the sounds of windows breaking, doors being bashed in, gunfire and screams.

“Deal with this,” Lockvara said. “Get the money. Do not get followed. Tomorrow, air harbor.” Moments later, she disappeared around the corner, Nexus barely catching a glimpse of her behind the window, already about to cross the street.

“Well, don’t I get the best fucking bosses…” he murmured to himself and looked at the dead killer under his hooves. He then glanced back to the stairs that led to the underground meeting room, the noise from there getting closer, and he turned back to the cubicle maze, full of the sounds of slaughter.

The synaptic took a deep breath, retrieved the bright green vial, and jabbed it into his foreleg. His pupils widened and gained a temporary glint of greenish teal, after which he gave a low groan, shuddering all over. His hoof rested against his horn he while stared at the dead pony underneath him.

A few seconds later, Nexus assumed the form of the seagull killer, complete with three knife holsters strapped to his left foreleg, and a similar blade attached to his right. Only one of the holsters was fit with a knife, the blood on which he did not replicate. He cracked his neck and took off, advancing through a transparent door and leaving the dead guards behind. “Fucking hell,” he muttered along the way. “How do you even breathe in this thing?”

Behind that door was a group of guards wearing blue and white rushing in. They did not raise their weapons when he entered through the door, instead pointing hooves at him.

“Okay, dude, great!” the frontmost one said. “Sneak up and kill the fuckers, we’re off to see the meeting through!” Moments later, he got a large knife halfway through his throat. The other two did not get to react, as Nexus swung the seagull’s cleaver into the chest of one and tried a knife throw at another. The blade missed, but the guard was dead within a moment, the cleaver slicing his snout in half. Nexus looked at the knife in the wall and shook his head, after which he lit his nonexistent horn up and materialized a replacement in the previously empty slot. He repeated the procedure for the other two, creating synaptic copies that filled his arsenal.

His next throw was more successful - he caught a copy of the currently de-horned unicorn on the run much farther down the corridor. The changeling dropped, clutching the blade with his hooves. Another postal pony brought a hind leg on his abdomen, crushing through it. The earth pony eagle looked at the pegasus seagull and nodded, continuing on his way, his hooves clanging due to sharp metal having been attached at the sides. Nexus was in pursuit, almost a blur as he moved past a series of cubicles that appeared empty. The changeling caught up to the eagle while he bashed two desperately hollering guards’ heads together, one bleeding red, another green. When two loud cracks finally rang out, the seagull’s cleaver went right into his neck, tearing through rubber and flesh equally well.

The corridor the changeling crossed was the middle of the maze, splitting it in two halves. From where he stood, he heard sounds of violence and various screams from both sides. Looking both ways, he headed forward, stepping over the other postal pony’s body. Out of a cubicle, a gun-wielding guard emerged, growling as he pulled his foreleg back to fire at Nexus. The changeling dashed toward him, swinging the cleaver as he went. A guttural yell and a light thud saw one half of the stallion’s gun leg fly off against the wall, covering the desk in blood. Nexus finished him off with a stomp on the face, as the dark blue pony had fallen over, squirting blood all over his white suit.

He continued through the cubicles, orientating by sound. Several empty office spaces in, he walked in on an ambush - two guards armed with heavy batons stood to each side of the door. The seagull mask’s beak barely brushed one of the guard’s suits as Nexus turned his head upon stepping in, so the changeling had time to roll forward, escaping two heavy blows. He turned around in time to send the cleaver into the chest of one guard, and to quickly chop open the abdomen of another, after sending him off his hooves with a headbutt. Breathing heavily through the mask, he lit the space above his forehead up again, two throwing knives reappearing in their holsters.

Another opened door led to a cubicle containing the mangled body of a guard, a beige mare in blue, whose face was torn up, the rest of her bones twisted, chain tracks on the suit. The door from that cubicle into the next opened by itself, as a very heavy thud shook the floor under Nexus’ hooves, sending the coffee cups on the nearby desks flying off. Two quiet puffs and a loud bovine shout, which quickly devolved into a distorted gurgle, had the changeling duck preemptively before entering the room through the open door.

Inside, on top of the bodies of a dead guard and three appropriately suited drones, was a black mass that was formerly in the shape of the minotaur Gaur. In front of it stood another postal pony, a crow, who had just put down a hoof with a snub-nosed gun strapped to it. A feminine wail came out of her as Nexus rushed her and slammed her to the floor. Her gun clicked empty as she attempted to fire at his head, while the changeling using the cleaver cleaver to chop her mask and face apart.

To the side of that cubicle was another door, leading to another corridor. Nexus stayed inside, listening in, and emerged with his throwing leg at the ready, immediately throwing a knife at the sound of galloping hooves. His aim proved true, as a blue, blonde unicorn in a white suit came rolling past him through inertia, dragging the back of the cleaver that halved his face over the linoleum carpet. The synaptic shuddered as a breeze of green vapor sucked itself into where his horn would have been. He blinked, eyes glowing green briefly, and he turned his head to the restrooms, which were in the middle of the passage. A door had clasped shut, after which two tattering volleys sounded out of the male room.

Looking both ways first, Nexus saw half a dozen corpses in white and blue suits on both sides, and he hurried into the room. Inside, he found a large unicorn wearing a honeybird mask, bringing his heavy hoof down on a drone’s back, tearing through the white fabric. The drone flickered into the visage of a teal earth mare several times, and the hoof pounded through its body, sending splatters of fizzling, shining green all over the restroom. One final stomp sent the drone’s wings peeking out of their sockets by inertia, tearing up the signature suit even more.

Nexus did nothing, as he noticed a pair of crystalline firearms floating above the grunting honeybird’s head. They were aimed at the door he just entered through. Both the honeybird and the seagull stood where they were, breathing heavily. Ravenous, shrill screams and animalistic growling sounded out from the other side of the offices, coupled with gunshots, but neither of them moved. The changeling glanced down at himself, the postal outfit obscuring the overwhelming majority of his body, and his pink wings were average size. Nexus shook slightly, closing his eyes, the space above his head lighting up a very dim green. Clearing his throat briefly, he spoke up in a female voice:

“Calm down. I’m with you. Seagull.” While he spoke, the changeling began to lift his throwing hoof.

“You’re not a mare, you shapeshifting son of a bitch,” the honeybird growled. His horn brightened.

Nexus quickly leaped at him, and the killer screamed, managing to lift one of his guns and fire several times, but the crystal bullets went wide, as his target was already too close. His hooves flailed and slammed into the changeling’s sides, even as the cleaver hacked away at his skull and neck. When the honeybird finally stopped moving, Nexus pulled back, spat into his mask, and hung his head as he left the restroom. His legs shook, and he kicked the door open with a grunt.

Continuing down the corridor, Nexus heard a noise in one of the rooms and, as it got closer, reacted by ramming at the door. The heavy wood smashed into a body, which he instantly sunk a cleaver into once he was on top. A pearly stallion with slick blue hair opened his mouth in a silent scream when he seagull’s cleaver got stuck in his guts, Nexus having to empty the pony’s stomach to liberate the weapon before he advanced further.

He walked down the corridor, stepping over torn up corpses. Nothing was in his immediate vicinity, all of the sounds of carnage having shifted to a section of the office further away. The changeling stopped, raising the foreleg with the empty knife holsters, and materialized three new cleavers. They slid into place, their previous incarnations hissing as they evaporated. Nexus’ nonexistent horn, however, continued to send off vibrations through the seagull killer’s skull, causing him to turn around.

Although there was nothing behind him, he still backed away a few steps - right in time to evade a sharp stiletto that was aimed for his neck. The crane griffon appeared out of thin air, their own nonexistent horn glowing a little as the cloaking magic dispersed. The crane's eyes stared at him for a scant moment, after which the bird’s beak curved, and, despite the lanky, oversized build, the griffon sprinted back down the corpse-filled corridor, cloaking out of view at the far end again. Nexus flung two cleavers down where the other changeling was running, but the griffon crouched to avoid them.

He looked around and hung his head, taking off toward the loud commotion on the other side. It had moved up by then, to the corridor where the eagle killer lay dead on top of another changeling - Nexus found nothing but battered, torn apart corpses as he sped along the section of the offices that was closest to the street, and, as such, was the entry point for the attack. Far more bodies piled up there than he had noted when they entered - some riddled with holes, some with precise shots to the head, some mashed into the floor. In total they numbered a dozen drones, several synaptics and around ten pony guards. He came across several corpses with the seagull’s cleaver marks, and having looked around, he quickly plucked a genuine cleaver out of a white-suited guard’s chest, by which he had been pinned to the wall of a cubicle.

The changeling’s attention passed to a whole clump of bodies that were barely identifiable, drones and ponies alike, entire chunks of flesh missing, the rest of their bodies covered in haphazard marks. They were lined up against the wall, covered in blood, liquid synapse, and dents. His attention switched shortly - heavy steps signaled another enemy coming from behind a corner. Nexus slowed his pace, preemptively raising the throwing leg, unfolding his wings to keep balance. A distorted bovine shout was followed by a loud crack, then a wet thud. Several meters ahead, a disfigured pony in a blue uniform was thrown out the window, hitting the frame with their head, dropping behind a torn-up cormorant mask. Purplish pieces of the pony’s brain dropped into the empty mask, slipping off the frame.

A massive bluish-grey minotaur emerged from around that corner shortly afterward, already staring at Nexus. He swung a knife at the towering bull, but the approaching, thundering steps threw his aim off, causing the knife to plant into a wall. As the bull’s bloodstained, ring-covered hand flew towards him in a punch, he barely dodged to the side. He then struck with the cleaver, but the blow was deflected by the minotaur’s other hand - the sharp edge slid off the thick cover of rings. The floor quaked as that same hand planted into it, narrowly missing the hind quarters of the seagull killer. It struck hard enough to sink into the concrete beneath the linoleum, and while the minotaur was busy liberating his hand, Nexus turned around and launched another knife, this time hitting the mark.

The cleaver struck the bull right between the shoulder blades, and as he struggled to free himself, it lodged deeper, the wound oozing green, steaming blood. Eventually, as the minotaur’s likeness slipped from the large synaptic, he added another knife lower down his back to finish him off. The emerging green vapor passed right into his mouth, causing him to quickly shake his head.

He opened his eyes with his head turned to his side, limbs spasming with newfound vigor as his horn consumed the essence of the other changeling. Moments later, he found himself face to face with the crane, whose claw was about to stab him. He rushed in quickly, toppling the avian over, and he jabbed his melee cleaver into the long neck. The plumage faded away, and the misshapen changeling behind the disguise stared at him with his own snake-like eyes.

“Fuck… you…” the synaptic gurgled before his eyes lost the greenish hue. Nexus’ horn vibrated again from another ingestion, but he was already off. The remaining sounds of slaughter had moved, now coming from where the hidden door was.

He backtracked, flapping the pegasus’ wings, speeding himself over the bodies of the ones he had already seen or left behind himself. He stopped at the stairwell - there lay another pile of twisted, torn apart corpses. A pair of guards in Majors blue and white, the rest wearing Los Caballeros brown and pink. The changeling tilted his head, the pegasus’ eyes open wide at the roadblock of bodies and body parts. He lifted his right hoof and recreated the missing knives, then headed down the stairs, back to the room where they began.

At the end of the stairs, leaning against the railing, was the pink, black-maned mare he dissed during the meeting. Her left foreleg was completely missing, together with the shoulder and parts of the stomach. The pony’s head rested against the railing, eyes gazing into nothing, mouth gaping sideways.

Nexus took slow, steady steps, hiding behind the corner and peeking into the room. The desk had been broken in half and most of the filing cabinets had toppled over. Two figures were circling each other, a pony and a griffon. The raven wielded a long rapier, but was kept at bay by the pony, a unicorn, who was making all of the identifiable noise. In front of them, they were levitating a huge wooden club roughly the size of their own body, punctured all over with nails, needles, pieces of rail, slabs of metal, wooden stakes, and dim crystals. Multiple chunks of flesh and chitin were attached to the sharp implements, dangling and swinging. A part of someone’s face stared at Nexus as he observed the fight. The egregious weapon was being kept in the air meters in front of its wielder, cutting the griffon off from any angle of attack.

Finally, the griffon leapt into the air with his wings, jumping over the club and going into a dive, rapier pointed at the killer. Mid-flight, the club righted itself vertically and swung upwards, smashing into him and sending his body into the top of a wall. The griffon’s arm remained on the club, still clinging to the rapier, squirting bright red.

Nexus got behind the wall for a moment and closed his eyes tight. Then, he hopped out and headed straight for the room. The pony was looking away, staring at where the raven ended up landing. The changeling cleared his throat, and spoke in a male voice:

“That’s the last of them. The rest is cleared out.” Slowly, the other killer turned to face him.

A pair of wide, bloodshot, jittering green eyes stared at him from behind a battered, bloody vulture mask. The masked pony began to side-step, picking up their weapon again. Their horn sparkled and fizzled, a faint greenish aura keeping the large club in the air nonetheless.

“You’re dead…” a shrill, raspy, androgynous voice said from behind the mask.

“Got better,” Nexus said, doing away with the voice, and quickly flung a cleaver at them. It glanced off the club and embedded into the wall behind the masked figure. The vulture’s head tilted and shook, and they roared:

“MEAT!”

He jumped back, still having to duck to avoid the weapon's long reach. The unicorn continued to side-step, driving him to do the same. There was only one knife remaining in his holster. Backpedaling from another swing and rolling to the side to escape a vertical followup, he threw it in the vulture’s direction. It was another miss - the cleaver landed somewhere in the corridor.

Nexus’ head turned toward the pair of doors that lead to stairs further down, but he had to leap back from them as a sharp piece of metal swung right by him. Looking back, he saw the vulture having wrestled the rapier from the griffon’s talons, leaving the club in a weaker aura. The rapier, however, did not aim at him - it rammed right through the thick push bar, and as he tried to operate it, the lock got jammed by the blade. The vulture swung their head back to screech, loosening the grip on the rapier and bolstering the aura around the club.

He rushed forward, spreading the pegasus’ wings and slicing with the melee knife in front of him. Another scream sounded out, and the unicorn bucked hard, blowing him back with their forehooves. The pegasus’ postal uniform received a few tears from bits of metal wrapped around the vulture’s forehooves, but on the vulture, there was a deep cut along their chest.

The other killer regained control of their weapon before Nexus struck again. The two of them circled each other again, the vulture puffing, growling and muttering. The seagull pegasus’ body evaded two more swings of the club, shifting from one side of the room to another. The broken desk in the middle served as a barrier between the two until advantage was gained. He attempted to pull out a knife stuck in the folding cabinet as he was passing by, but barely dodged another swipe that came as soon as he stopped. The cabinet toppled over, banging loudly on the floor.

Nexus switched directions, nearly coming too close in contact with the floating club. It got closer to him than it did to the griffon. He switched to a run to get to the other side before it isolated him in a corner, but had to skid to a halt as the other end of it was already in place. He unfolded his wings for a moment, and then folded them back, eyes passing over the curled up body of the raven in the opposite corner. The changeling stared at the unblinking vulture as they moved closer in, while he walked back until the pegasus’ flanks touched the walls.

“Rip.” The vulture gurgled, swinging the flesh-covered club at him. He fell to the floor, crumpling up the seagull mask’s beak. With a wet, squeaking, heavy noise, the club rammed into the wall. The screeching unicorn pulled their head back, their horn sparkling profusely, working to pull their weapon out of the wall. Nexus rose and raised the melee cleaver leg, swinging at the vulture’s neck. His hoof was stopped halfway, however, as a thin, inconsistent aura of green formed around it.

The unicorn’s pinprick, bloodshot eyes glared right into his, and Nexus felt the peagsus leg being pulled further and further back, carried by the knife fastened to it. He flapped the pegasus’ wings, but was kept in place by the magical grip. Another screech left the vulture’s throat as the foreleg started to bend even further. Hissing and spitting, Nexus ceased moving his wings. Instead, he lit up the space above seagull's forehead.

With a green flash, the knife dematerialized, as did the wings and the rest of the pink pegasus seagull. Nexus lunged at the vulture, whose eyes stayed unblinking even despite the flash, and screamed as his gallop carried both of them to the other side of the room. He landed snout-first into the remnants of the table upon tripping on it, wiping a grimace off his face. The unicorn was flung further back by inertia, crashing into the tool cabinet door. It swung open, and the other killer landed in there, groaning, grabbing their head with their hooves.

The synaptic got up, growling, and looked back. A bright green light encased the monstrous club, which flew by him. He winced, lowering and raising it in the air, and turned to the unicorn. With a distorted, echoing yell, he brought it down on the vulture’s body, which rested on top of the large corpse that still lay inside the cabinet.

Hissing sharply, he tore the club off the killer’s body and levitated it out of the tiny room. It dropped on the floor with a meaty, slippery sound.

Gasping and spitting, the changeling walked up to the unicorn. His eyes widened as he heard raspy, spastic breathing. Despite massive holes covering their body, the uniform having been torn to shreds, and a huge reddish mess where their left eye used to stare out the shredded vulture mask, the killer was alive.

“That’s it,” Nexus said, huffing. He entered the cabinet, avoiding the unicorn’s weak attempt at bucking him. “Who the fuck are you?”

His lips curved as he pulled the remnants of the mask off the pony’s face. Under the mask, there was little not pulverized by the vulture’s own weapon. It was a pale, white unicorn with greenish joy spots over parts of their surviving skin. Only some of the right half of their face remained. The pony’s cheeks were sunken in, snout curved, exposed bones showing signs of having been broken prior. They were nearly bald, a very short layer of pinkish fuzz covering their head. They were covered in piercings and tattoos, further misshaping their face.

The piercings sunk inside their disfigured flesh and the tattoos were hard to distinguish among all the holes left in their head. Nexus only saw a drawing of four teardrops under the surviving eye, one of them colored up in black ink.

“I… I can’t… so…” the unicorn gurgled, coughing blood. Their remaining eye stared right at the changeling. “So close…”

“Street trash,” he mumbled. They locked eyes for a few seconds, after which he closed his. Raising his head, Nexus shut his mouth tight, and then spat hard at the pulverized part of the pony’s face. Despite the synapse sizzling in the fresh wounds, the surviving side of their mouth curved upwards. A coughing chuckle left their throat.

“Ch— Change… lings. Bugs. All the… fucking same…” they said, staring into his eyes and trying to grin. For a couple of seconds, the pony just wheezed, and their eye lost focus. “I w-went for a walk… watched the cars go by… the sun w-was high— I th-thought of yooou…”

The changeling blinked as his opponent kept going, trying to force a strained melody into their mangled voice. “I went f-for a walk…” They coughed, hacking up a mouthful of blood. “The moon was glowin’.,, It sure w-was high… I thought of you…”

Nexus closed his eyes and jabbed the sharp end of one of his forehooves into the bludgeoned mess. The body thrashed one last time and went limp, the half-grin still stuck to its face. It wasn't silent in the room, however.

The changeling raised his head at the audible sounds of whimpering and gagging. They came from behind the wall of the tiny cabinet. Shaking his head, he banged on it, his hoof leaving slight ripples on the surface.

“It’s me. Lockvara’s bodyguard.” Vomiting could be heard from behind the wall after he said his employer’s name. “I’ve dealt with the lunatic. Open the fuck up.”

The wall rippled out of existence, revealing the hornless white unicorn huddled in a corner of a featureless room, far bigger than the size of the cabinet would have implied. Nexus looked around it with his mouth hanging open.

“All the magical bells and whistles, and you’re still getting fucked…” he drew out, before thumping a hoof against his temple and heading toward the stallion in blue. A long breath left his chest as he saw the pony was clinging to a safe.

The gangster’s hooves twirled the disc on the front of it before the changeling even spoke, causing him to shrug and wait. The door clicked open, revealing a big briefcase inside.

“T-take it,” the stallion blurted out. “Money from this joint. This is two... two months of joy peddling along the river underground. I don’t care. I was... I was gonna retire, anyway... Have better things to do now.” He cradled the remains of his horn, which still sparkled subtly. “Let me go. I just want to go home. I just want to go home…”

Nexus levitated the heavy briefcase and placed it on his back, locking the straps under his belly.

“And what do you think you’ll do like this?” he asked the stallion. “Think they’ll stop coming or something? Your pony friends have lost their fucking minds. Pretty sure they don’t give a rat's ass whether you’re a ‘bug’ like me or not anymore.”

The Major leader lowered his hooves and glared at the changeling.

“I’m gonna make this fucking personal once I’m better again,” he whispered through gritted teeth. The synaptic’s horn lit up slightly and he showed his fangs, taking a step closer to the pony, only to notice that he was gesturing with his foreleg. The hornless unicorn’s leg and eyes, both unsteady and spastic, were pointed at the two dead killers.

Nexus sighed and turned around, stepping over the bodies of the vulture and the decaying penguin.

“Just don’t take it out on the cow,” the changeling replied. He made his way back through the corridor and hastened once he heard police sirens in the distance. “Like you’d ever find us...”

***

Commissioner Vice Point,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, though I doubt it'll do so. If and when it does reach you, there’ll be no point looking for me, so don’t bother. There’s only so much jurisdiction you have. You probably want me court-martialed, which I understand. There’s a lot I wanted to tell you in this letter, but by this point, anger and frustration have kind of lived themselves out.

You’ll find that I’ve brought everything you’ve been hiding to the public. It wasn’t easy, but The Daily Carol is filled with enough nuts to actually publish it. I'm surprised they did so. You clearly have your pull over Willow Wings. Maybe they're not as loyal as you think. Maybe they're not patient enough to really cause the bombshell event you so clearly want. Maybe I did succeed at what I wanted to do, and this will raise a massive stink, but you won't be able to sow chaos. Maybe they'll edit it beyond recognition. It doesn't matter.

I get your motivation, Vice. We talked enough. I was along for the ride for years, but I have my limits - it’s got to stop. If you think that getting me to call in that favor of mine would get rid of both me and this little problem our city is having, I’m sure you’ve already thought again. I’ve done all I could, bad and good. I know you know what I know, though, and I doubt you were ever this naive. There's much I've seen in my life, but this is scaring me. Your plan. This city. Things in general.

There’s no fixing this. You’re curing dragon cough with a dose of the pendulum plague. Hear me out one last time, then. I won't moralize and accuse you of hiding things from me, things you'd never have thought of if not for me. Instead, humor me on a tactics advice: the city has to go. Total evacuation. Send in the cavalry. Scorched earth. ES/AS style. There is no salvation. Whoever wins, we lose. We do not win, Vice, and I hope I know you well enough to believe you want a good ending.

Call up Vellum and the rest of the pencil pushers and order immediate evacuation. Everyone has to run, run away, scream at New Canterlot so they’ll look at what Carol turns into and never let it happen again. And you know why, Vice, you know damn well, and you didn't want me to know you knew. But you're too smart not to have figured it out back in 1009.

At best, this is something in the pony psyche that’s just gotten loose after the “war”. I wouldn’t be surprised. Hiding out in communes, dealing with changelings you could trust and changelings you couldn’t, going on bug hunts, going insane while Sparkle pretended a council could rule us. Losing all we had. I won’t lie, I haven’t been the same since then either.

At worst, this is 1009 all over again. There’s something off about the changelings, too. Do you remember, they were feral, but not? This isn't that. This is different... It makes no sense, but it’s all connected. I think they may have missed one during the Purge, and I believe it might be here. I don't agree with you, but I hope you still have your wits about you. Everyone has to run. Assume this is another Packsmulle on our hooves, and we’ll settle back in about ten years.

Expect San Fran all over again.

Stay safe, maintain order,

Thorn Coat

15 Minuano Ave - 9:15 PM

A strong wind blew in Nexus’ face as he stepped along the walkway to his house. The palmtrees lining the ascending road creaked and rustled, swinging rhythmically. Patches of light from the crystal streetlights illuminated the pavement, changing color every half minute. A news air yacht buzzed far in the distance, around where the office building was. The changeling stopped, raised his head and spat several times into the roadside sewer grates. His horn lit up momentarily and went dim, becoming slightly darker than the rest of his body.

On getting closer, he stopped and adjusted the briefcase strapped to his back. The carriage stop next to the house wasn’t empty - an old griffon sat on the bench, leaning against a tall, narrow, dark plastic case. Nexus made a few more steps before looking at the stocky magpie again. His brows furrowed and he sped up, walking past his house and to the stop, tapping a hoof against the bench to alert the griffon.

“Uh, hello?”

The bird turned his head and looked at him, sighing and giving a smile.

“Ah, hello, Nexus. You… have been busy, I see,” the muscular griffon said. His uniform black tie thrashed in the wind, while his vest was partly buttoned, the edges flapping about as well. “Dangerous days. Anyway, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Engels... “ the changeling muttered, raising his eye ridges.

“Don’t worry, it’s Gabe to you if you’d like,” the griffon said. “As of today, we’ve got lots more in common.” He stared at the asphalt and placed his beak against the plastic case. “You’re luckier, I guess. You got bailed out. I think I’m stuck in this mess.”

Nexus rubbed the back of his neck. The grey-feathered magpie turned his head, looking at the faint colors of the sun, barely visible behind the thick clouds. The changeling righted the heavy briefcase on his back once again.

“So… I’m gonna guess the Boss isn’t happy about something. Again.”

“No, he is not… Would you mind terribly if I come in?” The magpie turned around and pointed at the changeling’s house. “I’ve been sitting here for an hour. Didn’t want to disturb your girl in case she was resting, or something like that.”

“You knew I wasn’t here,” Nexus stated. Engels tilted his head.

“Nexus, please. Our precious bovine accountant didn’t exactly operate alone. Who do you think hooked her up with contacts in the Empire, huh?” The old bird smirked and chuckled raspily. “I’m sure you’ll like the place I’ve looked up for you. Well, if she hasn’t already sold it off planning to put you and your girl in some hovel. I won’t be around to monitor that.” Engels sighed. “I’m gonna fix the mess that I’ve started…”

“And you need what from me, exactly?” Nexus said. “I’d be glad to pass this thing over if that’s what she sent you out for, my back is gonna break the fuck in half.” He bent a hoof to point at the metal briefcase on his back.

“No, sorry, I think I’ve got enough weight on my shoulders. It’s just… There’s something I need to tell you, and as of recent times…" Engels looked around. "Perhaps inside is safer. I think Wander may want to know as well.”

“Okay, fine, get up, just… try to fit in the door.” The changeling tapped on the bench again. The stocky griffon caught up quickly, walking by the trudging changeling, nearly double his size on all fours.

Nexus banged his hoof on his horn a few times to get it to light up. A spark sipped into the crystalline lock mechanism at the front, and the door clicked. He pushed it open, letting himself in, while Engels struggled to squeeze through for a few moments. There was no sign of Nexus' fiancée on the first floor. Pointing at the door to the reading room, Nexus bent over, unfastening the case, leaving it in the hallway. He heard the griffon grunt as he got himself through the doorway, and the changeling quickly locked the door from inside.

“Wander?” Nexus called out. “I’m home. I got guests from work for a bit, I’ll be up there soon. Don’t bother getting down, they don’t eat what we eat.”

“I’m a vegetarian, actually,” came Engels’ voice from the reading room. Nexus rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” the synaptic said. Walking in, he found the griffon in the same armchair Lockvara sat in a few hours earlier. “Alright, tell me, what’s so important?”

The magpie sulked in the seat, talons gripping the feline knees. There was a frown on his beak, and he stared at the pictures lining the walls.

“What in Inferno is this place turning into?..” the griffon muttered. “You’ve lived here longer than I have. Is this normal?” His eyes turned to Nexus for a moment.

“Eh… I dunno. Aren’t you the freaking… relations… whatever… expert?” The changeling shrugged, grabbing a glass off the table and splashing the contents in his mouth, setting off a brief fizzling.

“That’s politics, Nexus,” the old magpie said. “Not reality. Besides, it’s just to cover my assets. I’m amazed those loons hired me.” He touched a claw against the significant amount of muscle all over his upper half, visible even from under the black vest and white shirt. “Looks like realpolitik to you, does it?”

“Well, shit,” Nexus said with a small chuckle. “I guess. Me, I dunno if it’s my place to speak. Only taken to so much identity brainwashing, you know. Hard to say where I’m looking at all this from.”

“Whose brainwashing? The Queen’s?”

“Nah, the ponies. You know, being hypnotized under drugs and told that you’re an individual now. When you lived the entire, uh, five years of your life already being one, and only, like, occasionally had your brain scrambled by the Queen-bitch. Yeah, that was nice.” The synaptic growled, his fangs showing. He rested his forehooves against the table. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“My apologies,” Engels said. “You’ve got to have a clearer view on this, though. You’ve been through the Wedding War. Do you think there really are maniacs running around in masks, killing changelings willy-nilly?” He perched his beak on top of his crossed talons. Nexus glared at him for a few seconds, forcefully taking a deep breath before speaking.

“You— Okay, yeah, there are. There fucking are. I..." Nexus stopped himself, looking sideways for a moment. "Look, ponies went nuts after the “war”. Fuck it, there wasn’t a war! You should know. When the network went boom, we went feral for a bit, and then we scrambled together under different synaptics, the bigger gangs used Proxies... whatever. You can’t freaking blame us for doing what we were meant to do. But the ponies, though, fuck me, what excuse have they—” He stopped, cupping his face in his hooves and hissing. “You get me.”

“I see. Do you think these masked ponies are problem for the Boss and his plans?”

“Uhuh," Nexus mumbled through his hooves, head still resting on the table. “A bunch of pony fanatics who rip and tear anything they don’t like. I’ve seen them, you know. This is, like… I’d say bullshit, but I got more experience than I want. Rumors are true. They’re out there." He shrugged and cleared his throat, slowly banging his head against the table. "Fuck, maybe your guys are training these lunatics in your army camps, then they come here, rough Equestria up, and then you step in, saying this place crossed the line and you'd like to take over cause the Princess clearly ain't planning on doing anything. Like, shit, they got no rules, they got no… equinity, or whatever. I'm rambling, but we're in Equestria, it's as likely as anything else.”

“Yeah… as likely as anything else," Engels muttered, cupping his beak in his talons and sighing. "Gnarly, isn’t it? Someone’s going to have to clean up this entire mess.”

The griffon rose from the seat, standing on his hind legs. Nexus' eyes shot open. His head snapped up and he gave a sharp hiss.

The industrial hammer Engels bore in his talons smashed right into Nexus’ raised head, crushing through the horn and flattening the snout. A crinkle of gears and a loud whistle saw the remnants of the changeling’s pulsating cerebral cortex boil, erasing the wave of green that had begun to seep away from his head.

“Miss Wanderlust, we’ve had an accident here. I think we need an ambulance. Would you mind coming down?..”

This is Dr. Triage's personal network pager. In case you wish to set up an appointment, I'm sorry to say that I am no longer in business. Please realign your phonocrystal to—

Hey, Synth... Nexus here. I hope this piece of trash works, it's making my cortex shit itself. Yeah, I can't do this by letter. They'll track this, but they'd have tracked a paper too... It's fine as long as the Boss doesn't know you bought these fancy phonocrystals. Okay, not a word of this to anyone else, though. Not a fucking peep, you hear? I'm not worried about myself, I'm worried about you.

I'm going to be gone for a while. Can't say where or for how long, but I won't be in Carol. It'll stay that way for a long time. I know what the Boss has planned for you, he wants me in on it, too... Well, I won't be around. Business came up, I'm sure you'll see. Look, fuck, I really can't be specific, these cocksuckers probably copied the way they work from our fucking brains, they're gonna listen in.

So, basically... Sorry, but I guess you won't get to be at our wedding. I don't want to wait anymore, once shit is even remotely stable, I'm marrying Wander and setting the fuck down. As far down as I can set.

Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'll have a job, it'll suck, but it's something I'm used to. It's not gonna be as much of a clusterfuck as being under the Boss. What I want is... Look out for yourself, dude. You know I know I owe you for life. You're the reason I lived long enough to find a way out of here. I feel like a cheap mule whore leaving you like this, but that thing has its slimy limbs all over you, and you're gonna have to figure your own way out of this - you know I couldn't have helped. I'm not guilting you, Synth, but you're right - I am a fucked up cadaver, and all I ever do is leave a mess.

This shit, it just, like, it was random, you know? Like a brick falls on your head, only in a good way. And I have to take this, and I have to do it now. Blacktop has lasted us long enough, but there's no living like this anymore.

I'll find a way to contact you once I'm all set up at the new place. I'm sure you'll find your way out of this shit, you always have. You'll outlive me yet, and my chances of having something that's... that's like a... fucking life, yknow? They just jumped a thousand points, yeah? Remember when we talked, when you agreed with me for once? Just make it through, Synth.

See you on the other side. Whoever's listening to this, suck a minotaur cock.

***

...

-

June 15th, 1013 AN - 2:14 PM

Carol City, Equestria

15th Minuano Ave

Ditzy stood in front of the door with a compass-shaped window. Dinky stood to her side, shuffling in place nervously. The grey mare looked through the window, seeing equines move around in the house, but she remained still. Light rain was falling down, and the mare kept an umbrella tucked between her chest and left leg, mostly covering the unicorn filly.

“Mom… I don’t think we should be here,” she said, nudging her foreleg. Ditzy looked down at her, forcing her bad eye in place. The filly looked away, continuing to tap her hooves on the grass.

The mare glanced at the paper peeking out of the front pocket of an old, torn orange rainjacket she wore. Bending it back with a hoof, she looked closely at a specific line marked with red pen, after which the paper was cut off.

...Nexus|fmr. Roadrunner, now Parasol: 15th Minuano Ave, multiple counts of embezzling and theft. Likely to disobey final order. Cadaver bound. Blackmail?

Synth|fmr. Dr. Pillbox, now Dr. Triage...

Above the marked line was a pair of photos - a skull-faced, snake-eyed synaptic with a messy mop of greenish hair on his head, and a lanky, pale pink unicorn mare with strands of unkempt blonde hair fallen on her swollen eyes. Ditzy hyperventilated, eventually gulping. She turned her head, looking at the number marker on the right side of the door. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

Her hoof hammered on the door until somebody ran up to take it. The equine behind the door spent a few seconds looking on the mare before slowly unlocking it. Standing in front of Ditzy was a light blue old earth mare with a grey beehive mane. She squinted at her through a pair of half-piece glasses.

“Hello, ma’am,” she said. “Can I help you with something? Or do you need Woody?” She looked up at the rain-soaked pegasus in front of her. Ditzy's hoof rose to her throat and made a few gestures. After a short pause, the elderly pony nodded. “Oh, alright…”

Ditzy furrowed her brow, getting the paper out of her pocket and crumpling it up so only the pictures were at the front. She then held it up in front of the mare. As she did so, she rolled her good eye, seeing Dinky having run off to stand under the palmtrees, holding on to one nervously.

Next to the older mare sat a puffy, orange cat, staring at Ditzy while its tail swung back and forth. Its eyes moved to the photograph, and stayed attached there while the animal itself went completely still.

“Just give me a second…” the old mare croaked, leaning in to squint at the pictures. Ditzy tensed up, her wings nearly spreading open. In their brief shuffle, the knives clanged against the hanging zipper blades of the jacket, but the rain drowned out the noise. “Oh… Oh dear. Ohhh dear… This, um, changeling - was he a friend of yours?”

The pegasus stared at the elderly earth pony for a few seconds, causing her to back down and look back, where another pony was carefully stepping down the stairs from the second floor, a pile of boxes fastened to his back. She turned around to see Ditzy nod rigidly.

“So you don’t know… Oh, dear. Your friend… He was killed, right about a month ago. Him and his girlfriend. It happened in here... They didn’t even touch their things… The kitty is his, we took him in. Woody is still taking their other things out. We only just settled in... It was cheap, because of the murder, but we— Oh, I'm sorry to be insensitive. They told us he didn’t even have any friends…” The purple mare covered her mouth up, sniffling. “I’m so sorry about this. He may have been a changeling, but I’m sure he wasn’t one of the bad ones. If you’d like, you can look through his things, they’re—”

The mare was cut off by Ditzy slamming the door shut from outside and storming off, losing the umbrella and letting it fly off. Dinky’s hoofsteps approached her when she had already crossed the carriage stop, and it took her tugging on her mother’s tail to get her to stop.

“I… I guess I said we shouldn’t have come here,” the filly said, grasping the runaway umbrella. “Come on, mom… Let’s take the bus home. I don’t feel good around here…”

The mare sat on the bench. A few minutes later, a public transport carriage stopped by and they entered, taking the route back home.

Chapter 14: Keyline

***

...

June 16th, 1013 AN - 11:55 AM

Carol City, Equestria

The wing weights swished through the air as the mare’s wings lifted them up and down, again and again. The plastic poles they were attached to shook from each rash impact. A still, cool wind slipped in through the open window, brushing against her flank. The treadmill’s crystalline display shone a red light. She continued to work the weights until a quiet, raspy cough left her throat. Her wings drooped, sending the bars bouncing up and down a few more times.

Breathing heavily, Ditzy fell to the floor and rolled onto her back. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, where the fan, recently turned off, still rotated its blades a few centimeters a second. Her good eye was bloodshot and twitching, while her bad eye glared straight ahead, unmoving. A low, deep blare of a horn came from the ocean. She raised her hooves to cover her ears and rolled in place, struggling to shut her eyes.

Ditzy got up slowly and left the room. Strands of her wet mane drooped into her good eye, causing her to shake her head. As she did so, she nearly fell over, having to take a deep breath. Both her eyes twitched. With slow, short steps, she reached the shower room door. Her head butted it open, and the mare fell in face first.

Wet sand and rotted pieces of debris met her snout and body. The strong, salty wind blew against her hide for a few seconds, until her hooves slowly elevated the mare off the beach. She raised her head, gazing at the dim, cloudy sky with a colorless blot looking down from the side. Lispy, harsh noises left her as she moved her mouth. Strewn all over the sand were bird heads and rubber masks. One, a grey pigeon, peeked out upright, looking at her with two empty eyeholes.

To her right was the ocean, its dark waves splashing closer and closer to her with the rising tide. To her left, a high cobbled rock wall with ornate railings at the top. Behind those railings stood, just barely rising above the edge, a tall, bulky figure with oblong, bouncing wings and a stubby, wide horn. It threatened to tumble over with each gust of wind, but the wide row of teeth on its snout remained in place.

“Is this it?”

Ditzy stepped toward the sink and mirror in front of her, turned the tap on, and lowered her snout under it. The water spread all over the rubber that encased her head. The light orange dove’s visage raised a minute later, a pair of twitching eyes looking into the mirror. Her hooves grasped the sink as the tide came crashing in. A grey pegasus mare’s face stared back, both eyes shrunken and bloodshot, mouth open wide, ears folded back. Her long, blonde mane stuck haphazardly to her sweaty hide. Splatters of red covered her snout. Ditzy blinked a few times, lowering her head, breathing stiff through the mask, while the mare in the mirror opened her mouth even wider.

“Why come so far? Why do this? Isn’t it so much simpler? Has it got to be so difficult?”

The mare coughed, droplets of water rolling down the mask. She turned away, her wings drawing lines in the sand as they hung down. She paused at a stack of wet papers, half-buried in the sand.

010603, Sandy Shores. Resident ferrier, tax dodger from our files, dead on shore, boat stolen. Head smashed in. No witnesses, forensics say half a week old. Burying under riot cases, it's enough work as is. ES/AS say may be same thing as other ones all over Flora Shores. It's oddly specific, someone wanted to get in? Best if Com and the media both stay zip. City full of rotted fish as it is. -VP

A heavy thunk to her side got the mare’s attention for a moment. An empty boat was tumbling on the waves. Behind it, in the ocean, rock-perched towers were awash with dark orange flames. Ditzy hung her head, holding against another heavy gust of wind.

160703, Cadence Memorial Rehabilitation Center. Hello promotion. Com went down in flames over this. Entire rehab center a wreck, over twenty dead... Like the others, quick, efficient. Definitely not an animal. Ten armed guards plus owner dead. Two survivors, a syn and an earth mare. Mare tenderized, lost ear plus massive gut wound, roach is fine. First description of killer. Matches previous reports. Witnesses blabbed to the media, so we'll have to work on suppression. Passing this to ES/AS. Once we calm things down, I'll be in touch again through different channels as per my new position. - VP

The mare’s eyes rolled back and she rushed back to the sink, leaning her head back, a low, guttural sound escaping her throat. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Breathing loudly, she tore her eyes open. Her wet face, complete with a slight bruise on her forehead, stared back from the darkness. Her wings dug into the shower room carpet, one of them having slipped into the empty bath. The only light coming in was out the creak of the door.

She thrashed her head and pressed her hooves against her temples. Having looked around, she entered the hallway. In front of the door sat a fat, brown minotaur, wearing an unbuttoned pink palmtree shirt, dozens of trinkets hanging off his neck. He cupped his face in his hands, covering up a bullet hole.

“Hello?” came from further down the hallway. Ditzy turned her head and saw the body of a schangeling stretched out on his belly. The back of his head was crushed in, glowing green. “Can I help you?”

The pegasus closed the door and made a few steps up the hallway, folding her wings. In front of her, she saw a great number of figures occupying the kitchen. A concrete grey unicorn mare wearing broken glasses leaned against the wall of the corridor, covering it with brain matter, her jaw trembling. A blue blonde unicorn stallion in Majors clothes lay with his head on the coffee table, the lava lamp peeking through one of the gaping holes in his face.

“Hello?” sounded the faint, distorted voice from the hallway. It continued, repeating over and over. Ditzy looked back and saw the two corpses there consumed by darkness, only the wide row of teeth staring back. “Can I help you?”

The mare continued to move, unsteadily clutching the couch with a hoof. On the couch sat two auburn-maned unicorns in shining silver suits, one’s head lying on the other’s shoulder. Their eyes darted from side to side. Ditzy followed their gaze, staring for a moment at the screen of the videodrome. It was stuck on a color test image with the screen’s menu options floating over the colorful bars. Each option read “Help”.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

Directly below the screen was the body of a bluish grey minotaur in a stained white suit. As Ditzy walked behind the couch, clinging with to her chest with a hoof, he raised his head and looked at her. It fell back down immediately after, producing no noise.

Behind the couch, in front of rows of bookshelves, two chairs and a potted fern plant, several purple unicorns stood, staring at a half dozen decaying bodies. Some of the mares were kicking the ones that were cracked, jagged and black. The filly among them stood directly inside a mutilated, dismembered, gored, scorched body of a magenta pegasus stallion, whose blonde-dyed mane and broken aviator shades sunk halfway into the floor. Ditzy backed away slowly, staring at her.

There was a half-piece red and orange phoenix mask on her face, covering the eyes and the top of the snout, a string wrapping around the back of her head. The filly looked at her with worried, fearful eyes, and raised a hoof, moving her jaw.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

As she walked back, Ditzy found herself inside a hospital bed. The mare stood still for some time, looking at the bed cutting her body in half. She then turned around, coming face to face with the big, grinning face of a changeling who wheezed loudly. Tight bandages kept the synaptic’s eyes shut, and the slight initial echo of the breathing got stronger with time. Eyes bulging, Ditzy continued to move, straight through the bed, until she passed the column to which the videodrome was attached. A gust of wind met her from the open window by the kitchen.

In front of her was the slumped, headless body of a brown, bare-chested minotaur in a leather cape. Beyond the stump of his neck, next to the kitchen sink, was a cutting board. Dozens of tiny jagged, black bodies lay on it, chopped into bits with the curved, sharp knife embedded into the wood. The mare shuddered as a huge presence waddled through her - a large minotaur with a sharp green mohawk, wearing a skull-and-chain ornamented vest. He stumbled through the kitchen and the living room, disappearing into the darkness in the hallway.

“Hello?”

On top of the kitchen table, several bodies were piled up. A brown unicorn stallion with a sharp goatee, whose pink suit was splattered with blood; a shredded feminine synaptic in a vest and tie, with blisters covering her face; a braided, half-shaven Yonaguni unicorn mare, whose bludgeoned head sunk into the hole of the changeling’s chest. On the chairs to either side of the table were a raven and an albatross, both of them having their talons crossed on the table. The albatross turned his head toward Ditzy and smirked with the intact half of his scarred beak. The raven’s beak was moving, but the same distorted words rang out from nowhere in particular.

“Can I help you?”

Beneath the table was a contorted, long-necked avian shape. The crane’s broken neck snaked to the side so her dead eye could stare into the mare’s. After a few moments, it looked away.

Ditzy hung her head, making shaky steps toward the opposite side of the kitchen. Tapping, knocking noises came from the window. Covering up the dim blot of the sun was a griffon covered in ice, mashing her beak rigidly against the window. Small raindrops trickled down the glass.

The mare stopped next to the coldbox. There, backed into the corner, were two brightly glowing synaptics. The green light emerging from their eyes, mouths and wounds shot into her face, while the corner itself remained in darkness. She rubbed a hoof into both her eyes. Opening them, she saw in front of herself a snarling, scarred, long-maned changeling standing over the body of the other, huddled in the corner. Half of the standing changeling’s body was mashed into bits and fragments, melting into goop that dripped through the floor. He glared at her, although one of his eyes was mostly liquified, while his neck was missing entire chunks of carapace. He stood on three legs, two of which were mutilated, and pointed at her with a stump. The changeling below him, in the corner, sat in a fetal position, grasping his elongated, sunken in snout with his hooves and rocking in place. His body was shifting proportions, going from foal-sized to overly tall and slim.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

Ditzy grabbed her head with her hooves and stumbled backwards, spreading her wings to avoid tripping. Her breathing was stifled and heavy. She made a few steps, just about reaching the couch. Nearly there, she fell over on her side. Her chest heaved, all of her limbs shook.

While she lay on the carpet, Dinky slowly approached her. It took her standing over the mare’s shaking body and grabbing her with her own hooves for Ditzy to open her eyes, both staring through the filly.

“Hello?.. Mom?!..”

The mare’s eyes continued to stare. The filly stepped back and slowly took off the half-mask and beak from her face. She tossed it into the hallway and rushed toward her mother, seeing that her gaze had lightened.

“I’m… I’m sorry. They were handing these out on the streets… I thought you’d like it if I got one. I mean…”

Ditzy’s eyes halted again and looked directly into Dinky’s. The filly put a hoof over her mouth and backed off a little. The mare got up on her hooves, twitching. She hung her head with a deep sigh and coughed.

“I… I thought I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… Mom. I’m sorry. This, all of this…” The filly stammered and gulped. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea anymore. I thought I knew, but… I don’t like it here anymore. We should leave. I don’t like what’s happening.”

The pegasus looked over the room. Her eyes went over the other fillies that stood over the broken bodies by the chairs. Behind Dinky, the two islander unicorns still stared at the screen. The hallway remained a grinning darkness, at the far end of which stood faint armored shapes, parts of their apparel glowing weakly.

“Mom… You’ve done so much… But I think it’s best if we just leave. You’ve been looking so… off. You don’t like it here, do you?”

“Hello?”

“I thought I’d like it here, but I don’t… I really don’t. I know you have the money. You have… a lot of money.” Dinky gulped. “Mom, I don’t like what we’re doing. We could go. You’ll get better. It’ll all get better.”

Ditzy closed her eyes and stumbled forward. Kneeling on one hoof, she took Dinky in her other one and held her close as tears poured out of her unblinking eyes. Her body trembled, while quiet, rasping noises left her throat. Soon enough, the filly began to cry as well.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

On the coffee table lay an open envelope. The mare’s eyes finally blinked as they caught it, torn open and slightly crumpled. A blue stamp was visible on its side.

“I’m sorry…”

Dear Ditzy Doo,

The coffin you have ordered is in stock at the Floral Falls Mall. For quick delivery, we suggest you visit us on short notice so we can arrange terms of service. A mare of your age should not have to carry weights on her own. In case you cannot, our crew will make do with your apartment.

Do not worry about the current policing issues in your area. Your decision to spend the funds on stable future investments instead of appealing to the occupation is admirable. We employ highly discrete specialists to carry out deliverance. You can surely relate.

We are expecting you at 85 Starling Ave. We advise you bring the assigned payment with you. Come as you will.

Yours,
Amethyst Star.

“They know, Mom.”

Ditzy finally let go of her daughter and turned around, opening the balcony. The charred, lacerated body of a yellow unicorn in blue and white lay below. As his dislodged jaw moved, so did his blood-caked moustache. After casting a brief look to her side, right at the towering, formless, distorted figure with two green searchlight eyes, the mare dropped down off the balcony.

85 Starling Ave - 11:30 AM

The downward momentum carried the mare up, out of the cover of water. Her body shot out of the ocean, splashing two ponies that stood at the small pier in front of the shopping center. Before she could land where they stood, the two retreated, racing up the straight path into the mall. The doors were slammed inward as the pair entered and disappeared down a wide entry hall. Her wings carried her a few meters into the building proper, where she landed, dripping with water. The heavy oceanside wind carried the dense rain into the four-story building through the open doors and many busted windows.

The two thugs’ wet tracks led her down to the lower floor, which was empty, excluding some chairs and machinery covered with tarp. A defunct ice rink was in the middle, the floor full of cracks and holes. In front of it stood the pair she was chasing. One of them flickered out of the shape of a bangy brown earth stallion in dark pink into a radiant synaptic. The other, a white stallion in a tight blue hoodie, pointed a hoof at her, shouted, and ran off.

The changeling and Ditzy stared at each other, both tilting their heads, until she heard steps to her side. She turned and sent her forehooves, locked together, speeding in that direction, elevating herself with her wings. A chitinous crunch sounded out, obscured by many more hoofsteps, and a wet splash stained her forelegs. A buck followed immediately, covering her hind hooves in green ooze.

Fallen on the ground in front of her was a grey pegasus in a blue postal outfit with a pigeon mask on her head. Green crackles covered the body shortly, but by then, three more had surrounded the mare. They twitched, the empty eyeholes of their masks occasionally lighting up green. Their wings were spread, flexing in place, stiff, distorted breaths coming from behind the masks. Her forehead collided with the rubber on the head of the one on her left, throwing him to the side. A steady green light came from the changeling’s eyes as they slid on the floor, hitting a step with their head. The other two leapt ahead, avoiding the living projectile. One immediately turned and made a stabbing motion with a wing, which was intercepted by the mare’s locked forehooves. A wet, fizzling crack rang out, and with a distorted, raspy breath, Ditzy went for the third one. The pigeonhead charged for her, only to pause from a gust of air she sent with a wing, and they fell on the dusty floor, a pair of hooves clinched around their throat. A single push saw the hooves collide inside the flickering throat, covered in fizzling synapse.

The one that was thrown had recuperated and was standing again when the mare was done. Without further delay, they swung their wings toward her, launching short, curved blades. She side-stepped the familiar knives without losing speed and wrestled the pigeonhead to the floor before another was thrown. Her bad eye stared into an eyehole, while the good one darted to the side for a second. The changeling contorted as a hoof stomped through a wing and grabbed a freshly formed knife, which was jabbed into an eyehole. With sparks spitting out of the nonexistent horn, the flickering body twisted one last time and fell limp. The blade evaporated before Ditzy could take it.

The last one alive - the synaptic with two cracks in his head, who rolled on the ground, spreading around green ooze - went still after the mare’s forehoof crashed right through the chest carapace. She stood there, the fizzling synapse singing her coat and the skin slightly. The leg began to jerk, widening the wound, and the rest of her followed, convulsing in a short seizure. She opened her eyes, both twitching, both irises shrunk, and let out a loud breath.

The mare went around the abandoned premises, while more and more faint hoofsteps and light buzzing came from all over the building. Having made a U-turn around the defunct rink, she ended up in front of the second set of stairs, down which came more of the pigeonheads. Her body torpedoed into them, cracking one’s neck in half with the initial impact. The other two were only halfway through raising their own wings, one of which she grabbed with her mouth. A harsh tug sent the changeling headfirst into a wall. The last one, having darted forward and unfolded the wings so as to strike, had the mare directly in front of their beak within moments, out of reach for the knives. She toppled the changeling, stomping on both wings once it was down, and glared at the grey pigeon’s head. Her teeth sunk into the changeling’s snout, around the beak, and pulled, until the mare was thrown back with a piece of chitin clenched in her teeth. The changeling writhed silently at first, but quickly gained a distorted, haphazard noise library as the pigeon’s visage evaporated off its body. Ditzy ascended the stairs, delivering one last bash against the stairs to a still conscious shapeshifter. Her mouth kept moving, and faint, hoarse sounds were coming out, while her eyes remained fixed directly in front of herself.

The dim sun behind the clouds shone right at her once she made it to the top. Tiny ash particles blew against her snout, half-illuminated by the orange flame spreading over the walls. She approached a swarm of pigeonheads, four on the ground near a broken stairway, several more perched on snarling stone statues on the tall walls and columns. The identical pegasi spread around her, isolating the mare with narrowly missing wing stabs, but she continued toward the closest on stiff legs. Within the moment their wing was retracted, she took their head in her forehooves and rigidly spread her own wings. The changeling was quickly lifted a few meters into the air and thrown onto their back, pieces of them cracking under the weight and impact. Another crack shortly followed as the mare’s stained forehooves came together inside their head, previously pressing against and into the blackness beyond the eyeholes. On landing, her wings spread again, letting the mare turn toward the nearest one. While the changeling dashed to the side the moment Ditzy’s head turned to aim her fixed gaze onto them, the mare homed in, half-floating toward them despite the zig-zag series of side-steps they performed, unable to use their wings on the retreat. Her grey hoof thwacked the armed wing once it passed close enough, and within the moment of imbalance, she was in front of the changeling, crashing her green-stained head against the mask repeatedly. The body fell over and flickered. She turned around at the ones that remained behind, and on the statues above.

The mare’s unmoving eyes saw nothing either on the floor or directly above. Her neck angled a little, the head twitching. Her hind leg shot out behind her, bucking right into a mass of rubber that instantly gave way to rubber and steaming goop. Convulsing and folding her ears back, she flapped her wings mechanically, righting herself to do the same to another, who came from the side. A stiff, simultaneous motion of her wings sent her back a short distance, hooves gliding along the floor. Two more pigeons landed there where she was moments ago, their eyeholes fixed on he. She stood unmoving until another whole-body twitch saw her step to the side and raise her wing, offsetting the third one, who was nearly on the mark. The changeling was thrown slightly to the side, failing to land on her. Ditzy was still yet again, even as they approached her - only her head moved slightly, tilting to the side and then righting itself at a rapid pace. Her deep breaths and the crackling of fire were, for a few moments, the only sounds in the hall, as the pigeonheads vanished silently.

Slowly, the mare looked around behind herself. Her head moved her still eyes from one beaten, oozing body to the next, one’s snout smashed into the floor, one’s wing half-torn from the carcass, one’s forehoof broken and one eye gouged out. Ditzy’s eyes were moved to look at the remaining snake-like iris, after which the mare advanced up the broken stairs, making a short jump over some broken steps.

The pegasus went through the narrow, shadowy, once pearly white alley with her rigid wings brushing against the smooth stone. Screeching, shouting, and an overpowering crackling of fire and lightning emerged from all around her. More of the pigeonheads descended in front of her, falling quickly. Their necks cracked and twisted, their forehooves broke, their wings split apart, and their snouts turned to chitinous rubble. She continued to walk on stilted legs, more and more liquid covering her grey coat after each one. She stopped for a second each time one appeared in front of her, dropping from the orange, smoke-covered sky, or rolled in from inside the walls. Occasionally, gusts of air blew from her and to the walls, her wings hanging off in a new angle. Several times, she stopped and leaned forward - more liquid covered her hind legs, and light thuds came from behind. One time, her body stopped for good, moving again only after a minute, dripping and steaming. The mare’s head moved to look down, and her eyes stared through another pigeonhead’s eyeholes. The changeling underneath her moved erratically, as if skipping a few seconds ahead, and with each skip, their face was mutilated more and more. A green flickering light overtook it, turning the hollows into dim green eyes with slit irises, into which some of the congested ooze from her face drooped. The eyes sunk inside the melting maw.

Ditzy’s head turned to where the fine stone alley broke off into a paved road with stunty shops and apartment complexes, covered in neon lights, glowing under the featureless bright moon. Her body trudged there, while many more of the pigeonheads stared at her from the tops of those buildings. They landed in front of her on the road. The mare’s body and wings spasmed. She then stood where they used to, her wings spread wide, broken changeling bodies all around her. A few more came into view slightly in front of her, frozen still mid-gallop, but with each step her body took, one of them dropped on the ground, melting and leaking green out of whichever body parts were mutilated or outright missing.

Inside the shops and houses, however, groups of equine shapes began to move. They walked out onto the road one by one. Her static yellow eyes met many identical pairs of eyes as they glared at her. A dozen grey blonde pegasi moved toward Ditzy, to which her body convulsed once again, and her head rose sharply, ears perking up.

Her body catapulted itself into the wide mass of grey mares, stomping on one of them with its hind hooves. Her forelegs spun around, knocking down three more. A metal chain that one of them had wrapped around their forehoof was swiftly unwound and ended up on the mare’s own. The remaining ones gathered around her, most of them forced back by gusts of air created by her wings, which avoided blows from the many spiked wooden bars, mounted batons, strapped knives and pipes, as their owner hopped and thrashed around violently. One of the grey pegasi leaned in for a strike, and her neck twisted from the heavy impact of the swinging chain. Two more had their forelegs crack as the metal continued to twist and arc around at the disparate thrashing of the pony in the middle. Ditzy’s body jolted and squirmed, angling the chain at more and more of the remaining mares. Fragments of fabric of differing colors flew around as the metal continued to leave bloody, mangled tracks on the bodies of the mares. Droplets entered her silently open mouth as the weapon collided with another’s snout, and further spatters caused her motionless eyes to finally blink. She arched her back as her eyes opened back up, the right one pulling back, twitching. Her mouth shut with a loud clack.

A score of broken bodies lay around her, and one last equine was pushing itself along the road to get away. Ditzy’s good eye darted around, then fixated on a pair of shapes far down the road. A tall, misshapen dark figure with oblong wings and a stumpy horn, and a purple unicorn filly holding its foreleg. The assymetrical row of teeth on the dark figure’s snout reflected on all the glossed windows around her. The mare’s bad eye threw itself around before getting itself back in the middle. She plunged her hooves in the back of the one that crawled away, emitting a sharp, quiet gurgle as her mouth opened wide again.

She ran forward, leaving behind green hoofprints. Her head lowered itself to ram the dark shape. Ditzy’s body flew straight through a door and smashed into another grey mare, pinning her to the wall. The pegasus twisted around, and another mare fell down in a splatter of red, head colliding with the restroom sink. Ditzy’s hind leg stomped violently on the floor, creating a wide hole in the head of the first mare. At the other end of the blandly lit, spacious restroom, three more of the mares were backing toward the walls, pairs of yellow eyes staring at Ditzy while her good one stared through them. Her wings propelled her body toward one, carrying her into a cabin, and with a single thrust of her forelegs, she cracked the pegasus’ head against the toilet. The other two, nearly at the exit, fell over as she caught up to them in the same manner. Her hind leg tore through one’s neck bones, and the other was caught before she could get back up. Ditzy bit into the mare’s ear and pulled her toward the row of sinks and mirrors, brought her up, and then launched her face-first into the mirror multiple times. The mare fell over limply, and Ditzy looked at an intact mirror.

A young grey pegasus mare with a long blonde fringe stood, holding a young light purple unicorn filly to her side with a hoof. Ditzy leaned in, smudging the liquid on her snout against the mirror, breath from her still-open mouth covering a part of it. The pair backed off for a few steps, until abruptly appearing on the floor, with a ragged, shorter-maned, blood and synapse-stained mare smashing herself into the floor. The unicorn stood to the side, looking at Ditzy through the eyeholes of the half-piece phoenix mask.

Ditzy got up from the body and left the restroom, her bad eye twitching to stare at the mare that mashed her face against the mirror. She disappeared once the door swung open. Her path went through a small yard connecting a series of tiny, rural houses. The mare froze, staring at the playground in the middle of it. A single, incoherent, flickering tiny body lay on the bright yellow sand, patches of which were red. Her neck twisted violently, and she appeared in front of the body. Dinky sat huddled in the corner of the sandbox, hugging herself, eyes enormously wide, all covered in splatters of blood. The mare kept looking at the filly while her hooves pummeled the small shape in the middle. Her body turned around on its own and wrestled three equines that had ran up to the scene down to the ground. She crushed their faces, tore one’s jaws open, and bit through the last one’s neck. Her eyes were set directly on the huddled, shaking filly, who stared back - along with a multitude of blurred, backpedaling equine shapes of various sizes in the distance behind her. She got up and released a stream of liquid on the ground, which trailed as she walked off, wobbling. Her eyes both rolled back once the filly was out of her line of sight, and reset to be fixed in the middle once she opened them again.

Ditzy cantered up a rising, curving, cobbled street covered in bird corpses, occasionally running herself into more of the mares, who disappeared as soon as their bodies hit the walls, or the pavement. The pegasus continued up the curving street in the shade of the many balconies above, while thunder crackled in the distance. A pigeon head awaited her around another curve, but fell over when a flower pot landed on their head. Ditzy’s forehoof quickly turned their face into green mush.

Further down the road stood two more ponies, behind whom rose a blinding, scorching orange sun. Her eyes stayed open as she walked up to them and tore the mare off the ground, grabbing her by the neck and getting in the air. She spun around and rushed downward, throwing the pale, uncombed, sweating mare with large bags under her bloodshot yellow eyes at the cobbled pavement, following up with her own hind hoof that crushed her chest, tearing through a stained apron. Ditzy looked to the side, and saw the other figure dead already, nearly invisible in the light of the rising sun. Their masculine features oozed green after her forehooves bashed against their body a few times.

She threw herself down the sheer drop at the end of the climbing street, gliding up to meet the rising sun. Her wings folded, and Ditzy had to take the landing on her hooves. They crashed hard into the wet sand, forcing the wings to spread so she could right herself. They remained clamped to her sides. Her good eye looked to the far end of the barren beach. She headed for a wooden hut and a pier with a boat. The tide came washing in, but the water barely smeared the stains on her legs a little. There was a body on the pier, a slowly melting changeling, the back of its head crushed in, glowing green. She tore into the strands of clumped up seaweed green mane and turned the body over, staring into the distorted, asymmetrical maw. A bright orange light swept over from the far shore, and the mare’s raised forehooves came crashing down on a pigeonhead’s motionless visage.

She looked around and spotted more of them, standing still in the wide, tall hall, casting shadows on the orange walls. The paint on them peeled away more with each step she took as the fire spread further. The changelings melted in the flame, and the mare twitched and squirmed. They mimicked her motions. One remained at the entrance to a long, dark corridor. Ditzy blinked with her good eye, looking at the figure’s pinkish orange dove head.

The dove thrust a wing forward and pierced the mare’s chest with a curved blade. She looked around, finding even more of them, standing still in the wide, tall hall, casting shadows on the orange walls. The paint on them peeled more with each of her steps, as the fire spread further. The changelings melted in the flame, twitching and squirming, while the mare rushed directly at the dove at the far end. She skidded to a halt, head passing under a thrusted wing, and tumbled the dove over into the fire. Her hind legs broke the postal pony’s own, and she sped down the corridor.

She stepped over dismembered, scorched, punctured, steaming bodies. The walls got narrower with each pile. Ditzy only emerged out the other end after her wings had been touching the padded surfaces for a number of seconds. She looked around, the dove mask on her face wobbling, as parts of it had stuck to the liquids that covered her snout. A large red carpet led down a hallway lined with large pictures of nature. She followed it, stomping on slowly melting bodies of changelings. Having gotten to the end, the mare pressed her masked head against the heavy door, squinting her good eye to look into a narrow opening. The door swung open and she went for the hunched over griffon inside, a grey pigeon with an orange beak and yellow eyes. The blades in her wings pierced through it, and she bashed the avian’s head against his own desk until the eyes were gone.

Ditzy inhaled and exhaled, puffing through her mask, each breath bringing her several meters forward, back down the carpeted hallway. Bodies of changelings and splashes of red covered the floor. Her advance stopped halfway up a stairway, coming across a grey pegasus mare with a twitching, defunct, rolled up eye, a short blonde fringe, and sharp wrinkles at the sides of her snout and by her nose. She pointed a flickering, rectangular object at Ditzy. Her jaw shook and she tried to jab the leg-strapped object forward, which let out electric sparks with each attempted swing, but Ditzy made slow steps toward her, and was bashing her head into the floor soon enough. She rose from the mare’s body and swung forward, by a pool table, evading two loud shots. Her wings jabbed to the sides, resulting in two meaty slices.

The mare turned around sharply and stared at a group of pigeon griffons that had gathered behind her. Another quick twist saw her hind legs meet one griffon as it rushed ahead of the rest, talons reaching out. She broke their arm and twisted the neck before she ducked and slipped ahead to dodge the stab of another, quickly rebounding to plunge a knife into their side and kick it in with a hoof. The last one was crouching far back, by the stairs, over where the mare’s body used to be, clenching a sharp, thin stiletto in its talons. Neither the dove nor the pigeon moved. Finally, the dove took a few steps forward, prompting the pigeon to dart forward along the wall. The griffon’s wing stretched out to smash into the pegasus’ neck, but she raised her forehooves a moment before impact, tumbling the pigeon over. The same forehooves sunk into its neck, emitting a crunchy, wet noise.

Ditzy turned around and continued through the building, walking into an empty room full of chairs. The sun shone brightly beyond a rickety window. She broke through it and plummeted several stories down. A series of dull pops rang out as she flew. The mare landed on the carpet of a hallway, right in front of another pony, and she stood still. She took a step toward the mare, hanging her head.

“...fucking monster! I’m done! I’m fucking done!” the mare yelled in a badly distorted, low, masculine voice, sobbing. “Do it. Fucking do it! I know you want to. Come on, you've made your point. If I'm the same species as you, I don't even wanna be here anymore!”

Ditzy’s head nodded repeatedly, and her hind legs kicked sporadically.

“What?” she screamed. “What the FUCK are you waiting for?! What, did it occur to you that I’m a fucking pony, huh? Not fun to make up excuses for why you’re doing this shit anymore? What, it ain't so simple now, huh? Figured out that we didn't start doing this just 'cause we felt like it, unlike you crazy fucks?! Or are you just thinking how to kill me creatively, you cunt? What have you got on your flanks, a fucking skull?” The mare’s foreleg rose, pressing a strapped gun to her lower jaw. Her leg twitched and a soft click rang out. She began to laugh through her tears.

“Or… or do you have anything there at all?”

Ditzy stood face to face with the mare in the blue hoodie, who leaked a stream of tears onto the floor of her apartment. Small drops started to roll out the neck of the mask.

Thunder rang out and a bright flash consumed the area. She pounced the mare and twisted her neck in an awkward, stiff motion. Afterwards, she collapsed on top of the corpse of the white stallion with a messy, electric-blue mane, and a stump on top of his head.

Lightning flashed through the broken windows of the abandoned, dusty, dim-lit mall. Ditzy’s body jerked. Her loud, raspy breathing echoed throughout the large empty space. Her and the unicorn lay near the railing, the ice rink below. Directly behind her were the doors she had been led through.

A blue body in a plain white shirt lay nearby. Next to it, a pair of mutilated ponies in shredded pink palmtree shirts. Several changelings were slowly melting on the ground, the most intact ones flickering in and out of the visage with the mask of the pigeon. Overhead, on the fourth floor, the windows of the shop that overlooked the entrance were broken through. Off the very edge hung off the slowly dissipating remains of an avian changeling.

Ditzy blinked, shuddering. She had to raise a jittering forehoof to force her bad eye to blink as well. Its pupil nearly disappeared in the back of her head. The pegasus began to slowly get up, forcing her wings to fold. Lightning flashed a few more times, and the strengthening wind cast a sparse stream of raindrops on her blood and green-stained coat from the broken windows.

The mare took a few steps to the side, there where the rain was stronger. Water gathered on her coat, running down in lines of mixed color. She turned her head to her wing and then covered her face up with a forehoof. Ditzy left the showering stream and walked stiffly to a nearby corpse, a mare in tattered silver, whose hooves still clung to the bloody mush that her throat had become. The pegasus leaned and pulled the lengthy switchblade attached to a bracer on one of the mare’s hooves out of its slot. She then raised her foreleg and slid the blade from the shoulder to the ulna. Her good eye darted from patch of blood to patch of green to where the two mixed, only rarely finding parts of her coat that remained fully grey.

As the mare looked at the cut, a loud knocking noise sounded out from behind. She continued to stare at the line, blinking occasionally. The sound slowly got closer, eventually joined by quiet huffing. A short, croaky fit of coughing with laughter mixed in echoed throughout the building.

Ditzy continued to look at the thin, rare streaks of water slowly dripping down her foreleg as the albatross next to her spoke up:

“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” he asked, looking around the demolished mall. “Where you go, what you do, and why you do it.”

The mare put her foreleg down and rubbed the cut with the other one. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, the bad one struggling against the descending eyelid.

“You knew, didn’t you? You hide a lot. But that’s not what this is all about, is it?”

Ditzy opened her eyes and immediately closed them back, seeing the wide row of teeth stare her right in the eyes. The switchblade clinked against the floor.

“This feels right, doesn’t it? That’s what you do. You’re a very special one.” The albatross’ cane scratched on the dusty tiles. Sirens sounded in the distance. “Quite a nasty piece of work you’ve managed over there. I am impressed. Ponykind… as it seems… has limitless potential.”

The mare turned around and began to walk toward the doors. She stiffened up when a set of talons landed on her shoulder, softly.

“You’ve proved yourself a decisive mare. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble deciding what to do,” the old albatross said, grinning as Ditzy’s eye finally turned to him.

The burned side of his mouth twitched, which he covered up with a talon. Before she could move again, the cane struck the dusty floor, producing a lightning flash and a deafening crack of thunder. A small piece of tile hit the mare’s chest, while the clawed hand left her shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked at the front door of her apartment, surrounded by graffiti. Painted on top of it was an orange circle containing a heart, a star and a crescent moon.

“As I think you’ve elaborated to this… unfortunate stallion,” the albatross said. He stood off to the side of the rippling image, leaning on his cane with one hand and pointing at the hooded, hornless unicorn with another. “There is not much one can ask of you. But I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. You have had a stellar run so far.”

The albatross made a courteous nod and bowed to her. As her head, limbs, and eyes twisted and convulsed harshly, she saw, with her bulging eyes, his shape be thrown into the dim corners of the abandoned mall. The next moment, the mare fell headfirst into her own door, sliding down with a long sigh. Her snout hit a small package, stamped with the same symbol that was on her door, only in red.

Ditzy hurled a ball of spit off to the side and got herself up, clicking the lock of the door open. She kicked the package in without looking at it, missing the box a few times, and tumbled into the shower room as soon as the door was locked again.

***

...would rather not put myself in this situation, but this must be understood. Nothing has been done to address this, even though we know about it. Instead, measures are taken to pretend things are fine, or that the problem lies elsewhere. Simply put, our unity is a dream, a very bad dream. It does not work. The statistics that I saw buried month after month are terrifying. It was bad during the war, for obvious reasons, but after it? Don't you remember what we had to do to the drones, just so they could live among us?

So you are against Pact citizens having an identity?..

…

…a lie. There have been lots of lies, and in hindsight, I don’t understand how any of us could have been so complacent. Many of us remember the events of the War and what it did to us - while time has passed, we simply have not mended. And considering the sheer implications of what I’ve found out, we likely never will. There is a conspiracy, the root of which I cannot discern, but there are ponies among us that are dauntless murderers. Nearly every gang crime and at least one third of the ES/AS attacks that have been reported this year are the work of this group.

What would this group be called? Where do they operate from? What are their goals?

There seem to be many methods, and their goals are obscure. They operate discreetly, but I've had time to trace some leads. “Equestria Delivery”, a recently founded package delivery service, is…

...

...if all this is true, how is it physically possible that a small group of ponies could do these things? Doesn’t this seem more likely to be the work of ES/AS? As you have been saying, organized crime in this city can’t be expected to simply roll over and die at the sight of a masked maniac.

Mr. Wings, that is the thing I have been talking about this entire time. This IS what is happening, and that is a massive problem, one that needs counter-measures, solutions. We don't need to play blame games. Don't blame Princess Twilight for using what remained of the Crystal Empire to defend our country during the years of the war, don't blame the High Council for establishing the ES/AS, don't blame the decreasing potency of our sun and moon. In fact, even I can't blame her for putting her hoof down and ordering that Equestria and all therein unite together, or for the measures that were taken to try and make that a reality. The fact is what it is - some of us have lost our special talents. Their cutie marks now shine when they sow entropy, chaos, disorder, death; when they unmake Equestria's very core. I do not know what caused this, but there are individuals among us that, at their core, are hard to consider ponies. They themselves feel that way deep down inside, I can tell you that. All of us have had our talents detected and sustained by our cutie marks. Now, however... Now some of them simply don't function. Now they channel death. We are a broken people.

…

...solution? Can we have any names of those murderers, anything to help stop these sprees?

This will never work, I’m afraid. The Wedding War has shown us how well paranoia and lynching solve issues - they do not. There is only thing that came to my mind as I researched all this and connected the dots. Either us or the changelings have to go, and quick. Them and us are physically and mentally incompatible, no matter how hard we try to pretend otherwise. Both sides have failed in their attempts to communicate. Now we are losing our minds, and the changelings may well be losing their patience.

What do you mean?

As I said before, I can’t be sure. “Equestria Delivery” is merely a single tendril of this massive, sprawling conspiracy. In fact, it’s massive enough that I’m not sure in whose favor it is designed to work, or whether it’s a singular plan at all. There is little more for me to say, aside from one last thing. I was there in 1004 when the changeling resurgence read by the surviving Proxies was beaten. Later, I was at San Fran. I have personally seen how changelings turn feral, and what mere drones can do, let alone synaptics. I've seen Centurions created by seemingly inert, mindless hives. The changelings are more than we assume. And while that was an unparallelled aberration… back then, I had the same gut feeling I do now. I suggest that citizens of Carol City should evacuate, as soon and as far away as they can.

101 Ocean View Street, “Mended Moods” - 4:50 PM

The mare opened the wooden door, halting for a second as she entered. She rubbed her eyes and brushed back her uncombed, short mane, after which she made her way to the counter and examined the menu for a few minutes. The bartender, a bearded, vanilla-coated unicorn stallion with a long, red mane, bound in a bun on the back of his head, glanced at her with his green eyes, to which she lowered her head. The mare pointed her hoof at multiple items in the menu and went off to find a seat.

Her good eye lingered on the elderly stallion in an expensive suit, who sat on one of the stools. The suit went over a badly damaged body, with some of the limbs missing, the lower jaw hanging off, one of the eyes overflowing with blood. The old earth pony grasped a drink, pouring it into his wide open mouth. He hacked and wheezed, pushing a wad of Equestrian bills to a thin, bruised brown earth pony stallion, who sat on a stool to the other side of the bar stand, looking into an empty glass. The unkempt pony shook, accidentally knocking the glass off the table, and looked at the mare together with the old, mangled stallion. A motion of air made some of the bills fly off onto the floor. A low, raspy chuckle left the elderly stallion's throat as Ditzy stared back, slowly walking away.

She went past multiple occupied booths and tables. A group of ponies in white and blue were cheering as a similarly dressed synaptic changeling downed an entire bottle in one go. A blue unicorn shuddered as a black bead next to his ear buzzed loudly, and he pressed down on it with a hoof, laughing. Another group, three brown ponies in unbuttoned palmtree shirts and a pink one in a brown suit glared at the severe rainfall outside. A brown mare, who cupped her face in her hooves, stared at Ditzy as she walked past, mumbling something in a foreign language. At the next table, a group of mares and stallions with short manes, scarred faces and small metal tags hanging off their necks sat staring into their drinks. A couple of bodies in trashed, black and grey hoodies and leather lay under the table, unmoving. One of the silver-clad stallions sat at the table next to them kept his narrow-slit eyes on them, while the rest were examining the contents of a briefcase, opened with its back to the rest of the bar.

The quiet, slow music blended in with the noise of the patrons and the drumming of the rain. A fuzzy broadcast came from the radio speaker by the stand. She found herself a seat in the far corner of the bar, where the windows faced the tumultuous ocean. Ditzy tucked herself into the corner, leaning her head against the cool glass. Some seats ahead of her, she could see two blonde, green-coated ponies. They were a unicorn and an earth mare, talking to one another, painting a sign on a large piece of paper that took up their entire table. The mare hung her head when her eyes met those of a figure in the far corner of the bar, only the bloodshot, greenish eyes visible in the dark.

She sat there, breathing in sync with the waves of rain pattering against the window, until the sound of hoofsteps made her raise her head. Ditzy opened her good eye and watched as an orange earth stallion with short, faded, yellow hair sat opposite her. He pulled a wallet out of a pocket of his brown varsity jacket, passing several bills to a tall, slender changeling waiter, who cantered off after giving the mare a brief glance. The stallion pushed a tray with multiple bottles and a single sandwich toward Ditzy. He kept a single glass to himself. Ditzy grasped one of the bottles, opened it with her mouth, waited for the fumes and bubbles to fizzle out, and poured his glass full first, followed by her own.

The mare downed the liquid in one go, arching her back before leaning into the seat.

“Everything has become so clear, has it?”

She shut her eye and took a deep breath before pouring two more glasses and downing hers.

“We had a good dream, didn’t we?” The stallion coughed and rubbed his throat.

After another glass, the mare took a bite of the sandwich, wincing at the fizzling and steaming inside her throat.

“It’s all going to be fine,” she heard. “It’s not as scary as it seems.”

"Soon this will all be over."

FINAL CHAPTER: Expiration. END OF PART 3.

June 20th, 1013 AN - 9:05 AM

Carol City, Equestria

Strong, cool gusts of air blew at Ditzy out the half-open kitchen windows. The whistling of the wind was consistently joined by the crackling of thunder, the hammering of rain, and a loud crowd of voices down on the street. Her short mane swung a little as she stood in front of a boiling pan of water. The mare shook her head and closed her eyes, walking up to the window and away from the rising steam. Her bad eye twitched toward the corner by the refrigerator as she approached.

The street below was filled with ponies holding up signs, a small news air yacht hovering over the gathering. The crowd spread from the tall steps of the building she was in and to the very ocean. Shapes of pegasi coursed above them, spreading intensely raining clouds apart and away from the crowd, casting a sun ray spotlight on them. Multiple armored equines were among the crowd, entire groups coming together near them, pointing their hooves and waving the signs at the air yacht. One of the ponies from the crowd climbed on the back of a trooper and shouted from there. It was an unkempt purple, blonde unicorn in baggy clothes. Ditzy saw her thin, spotted face from where she stood.

The pegasus hung her head low and spread her wings subtly, while her hooves cupped her snout. She made low, hacking noises. After a few seconds, she pressed deep against her eyes and released her snout, looking out the window, at the crowd. The mare pushed the window shut, turning away from the sea of yellow and purple.

Ditzy stumbled out of the kitchen area and into the living room, keeping her eyes closed. She made her way to one of the chairs behind the couch. Her hooves covered up her face as she leaned in and slid down a little. They dropped down limply and the mare looked at the ceiling with her good eye, while the other stared off to the side. After several repeated cracks of thunder, she turned her head in that direction. Bending forward, the mare grasped one of the many thick, wide, colorful darts that lay on the glass table between the two chairs, and flung it straight at a sheet that was pinned to the section of the wall between the bookshelves.

It hit the side of a pony’s face, one of multiple drawn on the sheet. There were three lines of pencil sketches, full face and profile. Notes and incomplete words written in pen filled the empty spaces between the pictures, some leading into the pages that this one had been torn out of. Ditzy threw two more darts, hitting another profile in the cheek and a full-face sketch in the snout.

“Was it good here?” A bulky, stubby shape trembled on the floor, lying on its side. Its wide row of white teeth with blurred black lines between them formed a straight, vertical line.

Two more darts went in. One of them hit the side of a full-face’s mouth, another hit it right in the right eye. It narrowly missed the pupil of that eye, which was rolled back and to the side. The sketch’s other eye stared right at her. The mare’s gaze prevailed over the picture’s, as a particularly strong wind had the sheet dangling in place despite the darts keeping it attached to the wall.

“Was it a good decision?”

Ditzy got up from the chair, her short blonde mane being split in halves at the neck by the wind. She walked up to the sketches, looking at them with a deep breath. Her hoof tore the darts out of the ones in the top row, which depicted a scowling mare with a shoulder-length, flowing mane and a scar over her right eye.

“Did she want to be here?”

The mare slowly turned her head around, drilling through the idly tumbling shape and its grin with her left, good eye. It began to twitch, whereas the bad eye centered itself.

“Really? How so?”

Ditzy pulled the rest of the darts out, save for the one at the top that kept the sheet on the wall. Holes covered up a sketch of an unkempt mare with a pair of unfocused eyes, a thick snout and a slightly open mouth. A hole left by a dart tore a little further as the sheet flapped in another strong wind current.

“Then what next? Where to now?”

The pegasus scowled, spreading one of her wings and pointing it at a box that lay on the coffee table by the couch. The corners of her mouth twitched, and her teeth clattered.

“Why?”

She turned around, kneeling a little to pull a dart out of the full-face sketch in the last row. A plain-faced mare with her right eye rolled up and to the side, a long blonde mane and a scar on her neck looked back at her. There was an aged, dried circle scribbled in pen around it, several arrows pointing at bits of her face. Half a dozen check marks lined up over the two sketches. A line of cursive was still discernible to its side.

Our perp. Original sketch, copies in trash. Keep this safe. Worse if they have a face. Send to G. or I. Leverage if leaked. Stick to story. - VP.

“Isn’t this about her?”

Ditzy’s head shot up. Her hind legs kicked. She began to hyperventilate, both her eyes darting around. Beads of sweat perspired all over her face despite the cool wind.

“Why stop? They hid it. No one ever came. It worked. Why did I stop?”

She lifted a hoof to her face, sliding it around, pressing her increasingly dampening coat in. Her legs backpedaled slowly out of the living room and into the hallway, while both her eyes remained glued to the sketches. The bad eye shot up to where the words “SEASHORE KILLER SKETCH COMPILATION” were printed at the very top of the paper, going limp and sliding upward as soon as the paper was no longer in view.

“Why am I here? Who was he?”

Ditzy walked over the huge, black, awkward, grinning lump that had spread on its back in the hallway. Her head turned, slowly, with occasional stops, to the door of Dinky’s room. The mare’s breath got deeper and sparser. Her forehoof reached out and rigidly pushed the door in.

“Why?”

The pegasus stumbled into the filly’s room. Her eyes were bulging, her mouth hung open. She shook her head, her breath getting faster and faster.

“Why don’t I see? Why take the long road?”

The room was almost entirely filled with toys, pictures and colorful ornaments. A neon-tube colored small bicycle stood in the corner, surrounded by a large mass of striking, expensive plush toys. Rows of youngster edition bows, crossbows and throwing discs lined up the walls. Multiple high fidelity posters of pegasi in skintight blue outfits dashing through the sky covered up the wall to the side of the door. Above the big, luxuriously cushioned bed were stacked bookshelves and a couple of colorful book cover posters. Over a dozen sizable, well-painted ceramic figurines lined up on a drawer cabinet next to the bed. Stickers were plastered all over the drawer. A wide, long wide night hung over the bed, its complex crystalline construction dim in the sun. An orange lamp decorated with glitter and more stickers stood on the drawer’s very edge. By the window, surrounded by another army of toys, smaller ones, all similarly colorful and shapeful, was a writing desk. On it was a tower of textbooks, neighbored by a stack of notebooks. Several purple boxes with metal balls of various sizes, cups and miniature pony shapes took up the center of the desk. A couple of targets with a similar purplish color palette hung on the walls as well, where there was space. A slightly glowing crystalline pen holder glittered in the sun, casting subtle rainbow spots on the ceiling, the walls, and the static, hyperventilating mare. A pink school bag lined with tubes of consistently coursing, color-shifting luid leaned against the desk.

All over the room there were variably sized framed pictures of alicorn mares, one pearl white and one dark blue. A figurine of the dark blue one stood on top of the night light. A similar one, made of plush, was tucked into the bed, smiling face peeking from under the covers. A particularly big picture of her on a moonlit sky background, floating in the air with her forehooves and wings spread and smiling was directly in front of the bed. There was a crescent moon-shaped blue halo over her head, and her eyes glowed in the dark. The pearl white one’s face looked over the room from a poster near the big wardrobe, and several figurines of her were among the line on the drawer, almost doubling the other ones in size.

In the corner, by the window, opposite the desk, a large, bulky, awkward figure stood. Ditzy’s eye met its grin.

“Where is she?”

There were price tags on most of the toys. The bows and discs that lined one of the walls still had their wrappings on. Among the legion of toys, there were some gift-wrapped boxes, covered by a layer of dust. The thickest layer of dust covered the awkward figure.

A large, nearly life-sized, inflated image of a light purple unicorn with an unkempt blonde mane stared back at Ditzy with its painted-on faint yellow eyes.

The mare’s neck twisted and she hacked loudly, expelling a lump from her throat. Her head rose back slowly. Her eyes blinked incessantly. As they met the inflated vinyl figure again, the bad eye drifted back away and the good eye remained in the center. Coughing and sobbing, Ditzy shook her head and approached it again.

The large figure was a pearl white alicorn, just as tainted and tattered. The paint that made up her facial features on the smooth vinyl had gotten muddled and warped, leaving at best only the row of white rectangles and black lines that composed its asymmetrically large smiling mouth. The multicolor mane’s tints had spread over the white body, forming together a darker tone. Stains and spots covered its sides and hooves. Protrusions and depressions surrounded its head near the partly deflated, nubby horn. The wings, off-size and pointing at awkward angles, moved slightly as the air coursed through the doll.

Princess Celestia’s shape stood in its corner, put up against the wall, bobbing slightly due to the wind coursing through the apartment. There was a mass of candle stubs near and under it.

“Why did I forget? What happens now? Why did it have to be this way? Why did I do this?”

A tiny picture cut out with scissors lay under Celestia’s inflated mascot on a small plastic pedestal. Ditzy stepped towards it, dripping with sweat, knocking over multiple plush toys, one of her wings making a bow fall off the wall. She leaned in.

Ditzy looked at the light purple blonde unicorn filly’s happy face on the picture. She wore a school uniform, and bits of other foals to her sides were left in, as the picture was cut in jagged lines. The color on it was faded, it lacked the fidelity of modern crystalline camera photos. Her yellow eyes, wide open, were almost grey.

“How?..”

The pegasus fell over on her side.

“Why? Why? Why?”

Her forehooves moved up slowly to her face, gripping it tight.

“Would she?..”

She rolled over slowly, emitting a low, raspy noise.

“Again?.. What have I done?”

“How could she?”

“What did I do wrong?”

“How could I?”

“What now?”

“He had to die.”

“I had to keep her.”

“She wasn’t there.”

“It’s cold out here…”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“There is nothing left.”

44 Ocean View Street, “Ocean View Hotel”, Room 302 - 11:17 AM

Carol City, Equestria

1013 AN

Ditzy left the room, the many toys and items of furniture within it covered in tiny shreds of aged vinyl, her hooves leaving behind prints of paint dust and crumbling, stiff candle wax. She made her way to the kitchen and turned on the videodrome, standing behind the couch as the screen lit up. The shouting and chanting of the crowd outside drowned out the speakers. She stared at the newscast for a minute before turning her attention to the box on the coffee table. The big red stamp in the shape of a circle containing the usual crescent, star and heart was broken apart, as the box had already been opened.

The mare sat on the couch and turned it on its side. A tight wad of banknotes dropped out. Also inside was a glossy postcard depicting a flock of birds flying over a pinkish-orange setting sun. It lay on top of a small plastic bag and a pair of slightly glittering, crystalline photographs. One appeared to be a document-issue photo of a somewhat aged magpie griffon with a short set of platform-styled greying plumage on his head, and considerably sized shoulders. The other was a split mugshot of a skull-faced synaptic with a seaweed green mane, and a thin, light purple, blonde unicorn mare with sunken in cheeks and dim yellow eyes, with the same open-mouthed expression the synaptic had on. Added in pen was an arrow that started on the side of the griffon’s photo and ended on the changeling’s.

Ditzy stared at the unicorn half of the photo for a few seconds, and then let her head drop right on the table, her hooves going limp. After a few minutes, she got up and walked, shakily, to the balcony. The mare stood there, breathing deep, while the heavy wind blew back her cropped dark yellow mane. She looked down at the rioting crowd, rife with colors, only a few purples or blondes. Only the few wearing blue uniforms, wearing mock rubber bird masks, had any consistent color to them. The street was clear, outside of the sprawling riot. Ditzy’s eye only came across one other pony - the mare from the laundromat stood outside her business, looking at the crowd. The pegasus stared at the bright red old mare and went back inside.

Returning to the table, she flipped the postcard over. The plastic bag underneath it contained a couple of tiny white balls The mare blinked at it, her bad eye centering itself temporarily and then rolling back. The good eye passed over the back side of the postcard, finding there a message in cursive:

“Dear Ditzy,

I know I can trust you as a mare that knows right from wrong. As you have seen from the attached materials, we have a mutual interest. The work you’ve done, the inspiration you’ve provided, the voices you’ve granted volume to are in jeopardy because of this bird. That changeling caused you great trauma. I feel sorry for the assault it must have taken on your composure. But now you have been denied vengeance. I will not speculate if that was why you took justice into your own hooves all these years ago, I simply know you did the right thing reemerging under our banners after the long silence.

Remember that with ponies like you, Equestria is a wholesome unity of wonderful individuals, and nothing can change that. Thanks to you, they know how to deliver this country from the terror it lives with. You are more than regular ponies.

The Golden Touch spa centre at 12 Starshine Street in New Canterlot. It is time for the showdown you’ve been waiting for. Just add water.

Sincerely,

Red Stamp”

Her shaking forehooves untied the wad of bills. From inside the stack, a small blue paper slid out - a train ticket from Carol City to New Canterlot. Ditzy sat still, while the crowd outside chanted on, and the videodrome blared its loud advertisements at her. Eventually, she left for her room. She emerged with the duffel bag from under the bed and a pen in her mouth. There was a full set of thick, grey coveralls on her, with light orange lines along the curves. It was crumpled and wrinkled, the belt around her chest was empty, and the many front pockets were vacant as well. The top clung tight, but the pants, the sides of which bore old marks of a picture of bubbles, hung slightly baggily.

Quickly marking the boxes for “Pact”, “Adults”, “Children”, “Drones”, “Animals”, “Everfree Animals” and “Baggage notes” with “None”, “1”, “0”, “0”, “0”, “0” and “Sentimental value” respectively, she put the ticket and the money in her front pocket.

The postcards and photographs went in the trash can next to the stove in the kitchen. Ditzy looked at the three faces for a few seconds before turning back and picking up the plastic bag. The mare leaned over the duffel bag, finding a set of eight knives and the pinkish dove mask all lying within, and she nodded to herself.

She then returned to the filly’s room, spending several minutes in front of the door, breathing heavily, and quickly emerged with several items in her mouth and tucked under her wings. The dim picture of the filly, a small plush figure of Princess Luna and a framed icon of Princess Celestia went in the bag. Ditzy breathed deep and closed her eyes, swiftly rushing back to the room and leaving it with several stacks of books, which took up enough space for the bag to look full.

The mare grunted, sliding her neck under the bag strap. She looked the apartment around. Thunder cracked a few more times in the distance. A shaky breath left her throat. She gulped and approached the table one last time.

Ditzy picked up the plastic bag, opened it, and dropped all the white pellets into the still boiling pan on the stove. Breathing deep, she galloped out the door, down the graffiti-covered walls of the hotel, past the armored trooper guards who nodded at her before rearing their heads at the increasingly louder and louder sounds that came from the third floor, and out to the street, where she cut through the crowd and headed for the train station.

A loud, whistling sound that turned into a rumbling boom overtook the clamoring of the crowd, which went from chanting to screaming.

June 21st, 1013 AN - 3:15 PM

Empire Station

New Canterlot, Equestria

The mare walked out the large shining gates out the glittering, crystal-framed train station. In the cloudless sky above, the bright sun shone down on the road, amplifying the crystalline outline of the station. The thick line of trees planted along the sides of the road which lead to the city proper offered little shadow. Carriages whirred back and forth on the road, while pedestrians used the sidewalks by the trees.

There was no one else around where Ditzy walked, having made her way to where the dusty road and the green trees merged into a sprawling, colorful city, the road slipping directly into blacktop. Pinks, blues, yellows and greens covered nearly every building, most of which were unique in design, tall, covered in hearts and signs pertaining to their purpose. The city was clean, with no trash of any kind littering the sidewalk she followed. The street sign on the side of a cafe glowed with bouncing letters which were projected outwards by the holographic display. The mare’s good eye followed the letters for some time, after which she exhaled and continued down the new street.

She walked past the tall, cleanly structures, towering into the sky as near perfect geometric shapes. Some distant skyscrapers were an exception, curving on the sides, more circular. Faint lodge music emitted from speakers placed on some buildings, drowning out the quiet, distant whirring of carriages. Bright green potted plants of various types spliced the city up with more green, some covering up alleys in between the various buildings - alleys that were lit up softly, and appeared cleaned and dusted as well.

Patches of shadow passed over the glossed pavements, cast by mechanically floating billboards in the absence of clouds. A series of gargantuan posters covered the walls of distant skyscrapers, looking down on the capital city with the eyes of posing movie stars. The mare stopped, having reached a sun-sheltered transport stop. The corners of her lips curled and her good eye rolled back after seeing a changeling’s face gaze down at her from one of the posters.

She remained at the stop for a few minutes, having put her bag on the bench. The sidewalks and roads were almost absent, the only sounds in the air were the beeping of the carriage timer to the side of the bench, the distant chinking of the trains, the mild hum coming from within the city, and the lounge music seeping quietly from all around. Done in hologram instead of neon tube, the counter listed the upcoming carriages and their destinations, a centimeter short of going through Ditzy’s cheek. She sat, having turned her head, watching the bus that had Starshine Street listed next to it.

The mare stared down an empty, cleanly alleyway until it was covered up by a tall, wheel-less carriage that floated a few centimeters in the air, covered in multicolor neon tubing, displaying streets of destination on a holographic display placed at the intersection of its two floors. Ditzy got up, dragging the bag after herself, and walked through the automatic doors. She made her way through the softly glowing interior, finding a seat in the far corner of the nearly empty coach. The mare tucked herself closer to the window, putting her left cheek against the glass, which hummed for a second in response before cooling itself to counteract the summer heat.

The bus got into motion, gliding down the road in silence, while its two nearly vacant floors were filled with slow, synthetic music. Ditzy shut her eye for a second, putting her chin on the bag she held to her chest. She shook it open as there came an approaching sound of hooves on the coach’s soft carpet, and pulled a bill out of her front pocket, passing it over to the conductor. The pegasus breathed deep, keeping her wings folded as they shook in place, as the curt-maned blonde conductor checked the bill and nodded at the mare, smiling at her. Ditzy blinked her good eye a few times and exhaled, seeing the puce blonde earth stallion sit down onto his seat amidst empty rows.

She looked back out the window, pressing her cheek to it again, and placed her chin on the bag again. Her eyes shut for a few minutes, while she continued to take deep breaths. A sudden, slight nudge forward got her eyes open again, as the carriage stopped at a traffic light.

The mare looked out the window at the city. The small, homely-looking houses stood next to one another, surrounded by small gardens. The cobbled road snaked up from where they stood at the dusty crossroads, into where slightly bigger houses formed curvy lines together. A small fountain stood in the middle of the tiny square surrounded by the houses, amidst which was a big, decorated candy store that towered over the rest. She watched the foals running around while the adults stood around, walked around, pulled carts and looked over the foals. Tiny clouds dotted the sky, and a slight wind shook the trees growing beyond the hills. Through the spaces between the houses, the shape of the dark forest beyond the small town moved and twisted on its own, against the window.

The carriage rattled onwards, the wooden frame creaking with each small bump as they passed the intersection and headed down the dusty roads. The stunty houses glowed bright orange out their windows as dusk set in. Pudgy lightbugs swarmed around, obscuring the view of the grand city leaning against the mountain far in the distance, already an outline with the sun setting behind it. The coach stopped again at a small square. Firefly streetlights cast orange spotlights down at the flowers and grass in front of a big, bright green, pillared building. A wooden statue of a pair of ponies holding a small wrapped object nearly covered up the sign on the building, turning it into “MATERN” and “NIC”. The carriage got in motion, and she saw a teenager, a grey pegasus mare lying on a bench under one of the streetlights, tearing into her long, blonde mane, shuddering. Her bloodshot yellow eyes glared into Ditzy’s good eye until the carriage rode along through the twilight.

The mare continued to breathe in deep. She looked down, examining her forehooves. She rubbed them against one another and pressed them hard against her eyes. Having shaken her head, she put her cheek back against the glass.

The carriage passed by many more stunty houses. Ponies peeked out of their heart-shaped windows, looking somewhere to the side. Others did their lawns, pegasi flew over the roofs, a post pony cantered along the sidewalk, throwing newspapers over to the doorsteps. The sun was high up, rays almost piercing through the thick foliage of the dark forest behind the curving rows of small houses. The hills around the small town cast thick shadows. One house in the hillshade had some illumination - a small group of ponies in bulky grey clothes stood in front of a door as their cart’s headlights shone on the house. One of the ponies was just leaving the cart, pulling several tanks with hoses attached to them out of the trunk and piling them up next to the mops and brushes placed on the ground in front of the house. A passerby stallion stopped and raised a hoof, saying something to the pony, to which she rashly fluttered her wings, dropping one of the tanks, sending a stream of soapy, bubbling water spraying out onto the street. She spun around and dashed at the stallion, pushing him onto the ground, after which she began to smash his head with her forehooves. Her yellow eyes, open wide behind the plastic house cleaner goggles, stared into Ditzy’s as the carriage trod on.

Ditzy held the bag close, rubbing her snout against it, breathing shakily. Her bad eye vibrated violently in its socket, and she had to put a hoof against it so it wouldn’t push the eyelid open. The mare breathed for half a minute, waiting out another traffic stop, and opened her eyes again.

As the carriage’s wheels rumbled against the road, driving it up through the snaking street, she tracked the passerby. A big red earth stallion carried a huge cart up the road, everyone else making way for him. Three young fillies - an orange pegasus, a white unicorn and a yellow earth pony - were discussing something by a bush, gesturing all over the place. A blue blur dashed through the sky, just barely in view, landing on a cloud and turning around to shout down at something below. The carriage continued up to the square and through the fountain in the middle, bypassing the small gathering of ponies in front of the confectionary, where a purple unicorn and a pink earth pony stood in front of the door. They froze in place shortly before going out of sight. She gazed into the heart-shaped windows of the houses slowly crawling by, watching ponies peek out. Another street passed her vision, after which the carriage turned in place and slipped into an alleyway between two rows of houses. It stopped, leaving Ditzy staring at the quirky, stunty house by the window. She wriggled in her seat, angling her neck to look at the road ahead.

The carriage had stopped in front of a playground, encased by a row of picturesque houses. Shaking treetops were visible above the roofs, only a few hills away. There was an adult pegasus in the sand pit, around whom lay several other adult pony shapes. The pegasus bashed one’s head against the wooden corner of the sand pit, while the others lay still on the ground. Also in the playground was a smaller shape, similarly still, and another one its size, huddled in the corner, staring at the pegasus. As another group of adults approached the pegasus, the carriage went into motion with another sudden start, shaking the mare’s head. She exhaled loudly, emitting a raspy gasp, and she coughed, pushing her snout into the bag.

As her throat cleared, Ditzy raised her head and immediately pushed it against the glass, which hummed coolly in response. Tall, colorful buildings that glittered and sparkled, covered in holographic advertisements, were on the other side of the glass, as well as an occasional finely trimmed plant growing along the sidewalk. Shapes of dark trees convulsed in the distance, located behind a tall, gilded fence. The mare jolted to the side when the conductor had approached her, touching her shoulder.

She gulped and, seeing the street name on the glowing display, stumbled out of the coach, pulling out several bright yellow bills and dropping them on the floor. The automatic doors shut behind her, the conductor’s voice getting drowned out. The coach floated away shortly afterward, and the mare sat down on the bench. After rubbing her face against the bag once again, she got up, getting her neck under the strap and looking around.

A big, castle-like building stood right behind the transport stop, complete with a filled parking lot and a bright yellow logo, which read: “GOLDEN TOUCH SPA AND RELAXATION CENTER”. Among a multitude of ornaments and symbols covering it, a massive crown stood out, placed directly over the sign, above the stylized entry gates. Ditzy hung her head for a moment and then cantered over to the gates. She closed her good eye, taking controlled breaths while trotting past the rows of carriages and other transport.

She was halted by a hacking, coughing sound. Her ears folded back and she opened her eye. Leaning against one of the pillars lining the entrance to the spa was an old albatross griffon, who stood on his hind legs, a wooden prosthetic digging slightly into the soil, and supported his top half with a tall walking cane. The griffon stood halfway in the shade, and his dark trenchcoat reflected the piercing rays of sun on the left. He chuckled raspily, turning to face her.

“Good to see you,” he said, smiling. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

Ditzy stared at him. The old albatross made slight chewing motions with the left side of his beak, where most of his face consisted of scar tissue, what little stringy, silver plumage he had dangling over the right. They stood in silence for a moment, until he chuckled again.

“I should probably introduce myself…” He shifted his weight, leaving only one hand on the cane, leaning towards her with the other outstretched. “Red Stamp. At least, that’s where I think it’s best to be kept…”

The mare continued to stare at the griffon and his outstretched talons.

“You don’t seem concerned… puzzled… confused. No… no, you’re better than that, aren’t you? Yes, yes you are. You’re a great pony who has already done great things. Great things that have been misrepresented, misappropriated, misused… but great things nonetheless. You’re about to do more, much more.” He grinned. “But you don’t care, do you?”

Ditzy blinked.

“Yes! This is exactly what we need, yes. Trust me, Ditzy. This is going to work out just fine. It always has. You know what you want, you know what to do, and you do it. This...” The albatross coughed, spitting on the ground, the spit casting a few crackles and leaving a smell of ozone in the air. “...is what it’s all about! A true individual.”

She turned away from him, slowly ascending the steps that led to the gates, eventually getting to the same level the albatross stood at. He stretched his talons out to her still, grinning widely.

“Life was better before, wasn’t it? None of this. Everything was simple. But they took your life away from you,” he spoke slowly, staring into her eye. “They made it be like this. It wasn’t meant to be like this. They took the ones who knew best, away. They ruined everything. Didn’t they?”

Ditzy tilted her head and stopped, putting down the bag. She reached in and put on the dove’s image, rubbing her hooves over it after it stuck to her face. While the griffon continued, she inserted the knives into their slots. The mare remained kneeling, looking at the dim photo at the bottom, pushing away the books to have the sun shine on it.

“I know you can do this. You will deliver Equestria from this madness… and we’ll make sure it’s all fine again.” The albatross broke eye contact, turning around to glance at the parking lot. Right to his side was a long, narrow, two-wheeled vehicle, covered in a fresh coat of pitch black paint, underneath which metallic cuts and welding sears all over the chassis were still faintly visible. “So let us cut to the chase. He’s there.” The griffon’s croaking voice turned into an aged growl, while he continued to grin. “He made this go wrong. Do what you do best. Make things right.”

Ditzy stopped. The albatross puffed air out his beak, his claws scratching against the glassy

surface of the cane. She turned around to face him, looking at the outstretched hand. The griffon smiled, chuckling and clearing his throat. He exhaled as he saw the mare nodded.

She pulled down at the offered hand, abruptly plunging the albatross on the ground. Within a moment, his eyes and talons turned radiant, the cane lighting up from inside, but the mare’s hind hoof came down on his head and beak five times in quick succession, eventually crushing through the skull. The unformed lightning fizzled out within the cane, and a passerby’s scream came echoing from the sidewalk, but by then, the mare had already stepped inside.

12 Starshine Street, “Golden Touch Spa and Relaxation Center” - 12:45 PM

The gates were pulled open in front of her, letting her come in. Two identical ushers stood on each side. They spoke a greeting in unison, one of them being cut off halfway through, as the mare grabbed one of them and smashed his head against a fine wood column that stood between the receptionist’s desk and the gates. The usher’s neck cracked softly, and he collapsed into a black, jagged body, whose brightly glowing blank eyes flickered out swiftly, and a green wisp sped away from the emergent nubs on the forehead. The other usher remained where he stood, looking right at her with a pair of spotlight green eyes, smiling.

The pegasus shoved the changeling’s head through nearly the whole length of a gilded handle that decorated the gate. The receptionist was already a faintly radiant drone, sitting motionless at the desk, only moving its head to track her movements as she approached it and kicked it off its chair. It moved its head as it fell, aiming at the desk, so that another soft crack of the neck was heard. Its radiant eyes flickered and went dark. One more faint wisp of green sped away down one of the many corridors that webbed through the massive center.

The dove followed, leaving wet hoofprints on the fine red and gold carpet. Streams of cool air washed over her body, brushing against her snout as they entered through the eye holes. The ornate, wooden door opened on its own in front of her, and a dressed up teal mare dropped her disguise a moment before she was bucked into the wall and quickly finished off with a hind hoof. The wide corridor, illuminated by several colorful lamps, had three more changelings to offer. Each stared at her with the same overwhelmingly glowing eyes and pulled the simple, jagged drone mouths into a smile, and each was quickly felled at the mare’s hooves, her wings staying tucked to her body.

The dove examined the treatment rooms, one on each side of the corridor, separated by tall arches with pinkish, humming barriers. They both would flicker green and vanish as she approached. With a slight pause, she looked through one of the arches.

The room contained several massage tables and various apparatuses, it smelled of burning incense, and a tiny speaker in the corner played a soft, droning tune. Everywhere else was filled with motionless changelings - some of them drones, some of them synaptics, some nearly featureless, some dressed in various uniforms or street clothes. They were completely still, heads hung, a nearly transparent glow around their limbs preventing them from falling over. The mare backed away slowly, letting the barrier form up again, and she checked the other room. The contents were nearly identical, filled with unmoving changelings. She looked over the rows of defunct equine figures, and her eye lingered on one wearing a slightly dirty white suit. There were a couple more in similar clothes, then some in blue. Several in the crowd wore pink palmtree shirts, or dark pink suits. One of the changelings at the very front, a synaptic with a particularly long horn, had a black vest, tie and white shirt on, the tie swinging slightly in the cool air.

The dove took a step inside, and the moment her hoof touched the fluffy pink carpet, every changeling jolted, turning their heads to look at her, stretching their mouths into smiles, and opening their eyes wide, all of them shining the same overbearing green light. They remained entirely still, only tracking her movements. She approached slowly, to no reaction. Her hind hoof cracked the forehoof of the synaptic in the black vest, and the body struggled to remain still, eventually toppling over. She crushed the changeling’s throat with the same hoof, and a substantial orb of green vapor emerged, speeding away out the arch and down the hallway.

The mare tried a couple more changelings, each of them trying to stay still as their legs were broken apart, and they emitted green wisps once they were dealt a lethal wound. The mare went through ten changelings this way, eliminating the first row. For the next line, she sped up, shoving her forehooves through the glowing eye sockets, snapping necks and pulling them down on the ground to immediately stomp through their heads. Eventually she got to the row that was thinner due to the massage tables placed in between every three changelings, and, having gotten to the first table, the killer stopped. She squinted at the remaining bodies, covering her eye up with a hoof. Their searchlight eyes washed her and the two dozen bodies in a sharp green light.

Shaking her head, the mare turned around and walked out of the room. Synchronized, marching steps sounded out from inside as soon as she moved. The remaining bodies stepped after her. Her ears twitched, brushing against the mask. As the absent changelings neared the door, they reorganized into two long lines and began to seep into the corridor. She dispatched of six as they came through, bashing each of them head against head. Even her bad eye squinted - having attempted to pause, she only saw the next pair wait in front of her. They were taken down the same way as the rest, and whoever remained continued to march.

The other barrier hummed, vanishing, as the mare backed into it, causing the same reaction as in the first room - the changelings all opened their eyes and smiled. She immediately turned around and stepped out into the corridor, and the room’s contingent did the same, causing the mare to look back repeatedly. Despite her having made her way halfway down the corridor, the barrier did not reemerge, and by when she was to the pair of doors at the end of it, she was being followed by four long columns of catatonic changelings.

The doors were opened by another pair of ushers that had already dropped their disguises and lined up in front of the killer. They fell on their sides as she shoved them away. The hall contained a large fountain, stylized to appear to be a natural waterfall, circled by lush flora and composed of unchiseled rocks. The water rushed down into a barred-off pool, which reflected the intense green light of the marching changelings.

Inside the pool were ten towering bovine changelings, similarly static and staring. The sharp pairs of horns on top of each their head only barely pierced water level. They tracked her as she began to circle around the pool, and as she nearly left the line of sight of the green searchlights, the ones closest to the railing put their palms against them, pressing their snouts against the glass. As a loud rumble and screech began to build, the mare spread her wings and raised herself above ground, which the horde of changelings behind her mimicked, pulling out their insectoid wings and humming upwards after her. The minotaurs shattered the glass, flooding the chamber with water. They then remained completely still, only turning their necks to follow her in the air. The buzzing swarm around her spread out, away from the transformed synaptics.

She blinked a couple of times. Her eyes closed and her wing jolted, sending a curved knife into one of the minotaurs. It sunk into the massive body, which twitched and angled, seeming to send the knife deeper in, toward a more vital inner section. Finally, it shuddered and, after a few seconds, fell on its knees. Its hand reached, rigidly, for the knife, tearing into its own body, and pulled it out, after which the changeling fell face down on the flooded floor. It left a brightly glowing wisp to shimmer down another pair of doors at the opposite end of the chamber. The pegasus landed in the water, washing away the stains of green on her hooves, and took the goop-covered knife.

The remaining minotaurs were of five distinct shapes - a thin, feminine one, a tendrilous one with unformed nubs in his hands, a large, rotund one, and a tall, muscular one. She repeated the procedure two more times, each going the same way. The third one had the knife go in his back, to which the body fell much faster, stretching itself less to speed itself along. As she reinserted the knife back into her wing slot, the killer shook her head intensely.

“You’re slow, that’s my saving grace,” an oddly-pitched, loud, crotchety voice rang out from all around her. “You think killing those useless busybodies will cause me trouble?”

Ditzy’s head snapped up, and her gaze darted back and forth, gazing over the drones that followed her - they were the source, talking in unison. There was a distinct accented twang to the voice, but despite that, the tone permeating through the words saw her shudder a little.

“I was ready to do the job myself before you came along. Now that you’re here though, keep doing me this favor. Better when some googly-faced cunt offs these walking piss jugs. I get to have more.”

Breathing deep, she cantered on the flooded tile to where the wisps were slipping into, and the march of the changelings behind her was joined by loud, thumping hoofsteps. The mare switched to a gallop as she saw that a number of the bodies that followed her were already by the door, lining up around it. By the time she made it to the doorway, ten equines stood directly in front of it, barring entry.

The pegasus looked away and saw that the ones that stuck to marching behind her had formed a solid line behind her as well. The minotaurs remained as the second line between the equines, three standing behind the mare on her side of the room, three standing behind the line that had already formed on the other side. The fountain chamber had been split in half, sealing her in. A single movement of her wing had the entirety of the equine bodies stick out their membranous wings as well. Similarly, they followed her in the air, inevitably creating a thick cocoon around her with an inner radius of a few meters. As soon as she folded her wings, so did they, retreating to their stations in moments, before she could make it behind their barring lines.

“What?” Their mouths moved as one, the voice coming from every one of them, making the air vibrate. “Bored already, mail mule? I know you’re an idiot, but are you lazy too, for fuck’s sake? You shoved a hundred bleeding drones down my throat in that coastal cunthole. Didn’t have a problem then, did you?”

Ditzy tried to shove past them, but every time she applied enough force, a faint green glow enveloped the body, allowing it to remain still. Dozens of overbearing green eyes stared at her, and each of the changelings smiled. She hung her head, looking around the flooded natural chamber one more time. As her hoof went through a random changeling’s eye socket, she saw the entire horde nod.

“I thought you galloping gits like it when you don’t have to use your brains. Just straight lines, simple words, and an easy job. No wonder they need crazy cunts like you to step in when things go south. ”

A drawn out, raspy sigh left her throat. Having made a few steps back, she weighed a piece of the gilded railing that used to surround the pool in her hooves. The mare stood on her hind legs, spreading her wings, and went for the door. The broken, sharp piece of metal toppled five changelings in one swing, all of them lying motionlessly for a second until their eyes gave out and their green vapors slipped through the door. The pegasus flapped her wings, lowering her head and aiming at the door, but instead hit a new group of changelings that had already replaced the fallen ones. The one she collided with knelt, shaking, before lying down. The replacements died the same way as she got rid of them with a single swing. By when the one that went down was finished with a quick stomp, there was another replacement group.

The dove’s head tilted to both sides several times, twitching. Inside the eyeholes, her eyelids shut hard. She began to swing the piece of metal rhythmically side to side, each new swing finding a row of bodies to collide with and break. Her rapid breathing began to calm down as more and more changelings piled up near and around the door. While she was almost completely illuminated green at the start, fewer and fewer eyes stared at her.

“I’m glad you’re taking care of this instead of me. This is like weeding the garden. After the dogs pissed and shat all over. They taste about as good, too.”

When the piece of railing failed to swing all the way, only making a dent in a harder carapace, the mare discarded it. Her eyes opened and blinked closed instantly, faced with twelve glaring green lights coming from the minotaurs, who were the last to line up in front of the doors. As she stepped back, flexed her wings and got them into throwing position, the entire line made a kicking motion. They did that again and again, in sync, one less each time, as they fell over a few seconds after a curved knife would hit them in the chest. Some of the throws were missed on the thin, tall ones, requiring the dove to turn the fallen minotaurs over to pluck the knives out of their bodies, dunking them in the stained water before putting them back into her wings. The remaining minotaurs continued to kick, decreasing the pile of regular changeling bodies every second, throwing them, in bits and halves, all over the flooded room.

Each of them fell as soon as the killer’s wing stabbed a knife through their abdomens. The last one’s stomach chitin began to melt and dissolve before it even hit the water. The rest were decomposing as well - most of the equine changelings, thrown around the chamber, were degrading to puddles of goop that melded into the water, while the minotaurs still had the outer carapace, adding in cracks by the moment.

“These degenerates, they know how to be polite, don’t they? Melt into smoke, no more mess. Your cops liked it too, not having to clean up after crime scenes. The bastards liked to make a few of their own, after all. Thank your eggheads, back in the day, it'd take a year for a drone to melt!”

The doors were pulled open by a faint green aura before the killer approached them. Warm wind flowed from out of the next corridor, which was much the same as the previous, decorated with plants and pictures of nature. The barriers at the arches were missing, however. Both treatment rooms were filled with large amounts of slowly diminishing green goop.

“I sampled a few myself. Tasted like shit, which proves they were full of it. The ones you offed had a better kick though. Ponies, you’re like salad dressing. Chrysalis, the whore, she’s had her hive eating nothing but that for decades, so it’s only half their fault they got rotten piss for brains.”

The mare stepped slowly down the corridor, puffing breaths coming from beneath the mask. The next set of doors did not open on their own as she approached - instead, the green glow rushed over the entire surface of the corridor, flowing over her as well. She swiveled and stumbled, side-stepping to lean against a wall. As she did so, a low hum and a rumble came from beneath her. The floor shook, and the quakes gained power before stopping abruptly. Detaching herself from the wall, the pegasus shook her head and flexed her wings, going through the doors on her own.

It was another circular chamber, lined with hairdressing machinery. Pillows and carpets were laid out in front of each chair and apparatus, as well as angular, glowing vials with hoses going in and out of them. In some of the chairs were slouched, unconscious equine figures, clad in the red and gold colors of the establishment - spa staff, among which were the usher and the receptionist. The mare stared at the one closest to her, looking away once she saw the pony’s chest rise slowly.

Like in the previous chamber, this one had railed off decorations in the middle - a big, flattened rock, about five meters high, surrounded by short trees and grass. On top of it sat five changelings, each of them a griffon.

“This is what happens when no one can understand what ‘being on time’ means. These idiots showed up for their usual pampering while we waited for you to show up. Feel free to snap their necks too, do us both a favor.”

From their high pedestal and the sun-like shining of the lamps on the ceiling, their green eyes were less prominent, only somewhat tinting the dove’s pinkish-orange mask as they followed every move. In the middle of their circle, there was a small pile of pony bodies, just barely visible.

She walked around the room, circling the rock, keeping her eye on the changelings. Their heads still turned to always face her as they sat still. After a short pause, the pegasus broke into a gallop, covering the circle again in nearly ten seconds, and then again with the use of her wings. She spiraled up to the rock that way, landing down by the pile, all of it ponies, drooling and unconscious, lacking any consistent uniform. Four of the five avians were flat on their chests, their necks leaking enough synapse for the green wisps to turn into corporeal blobs, which still sped away. The mare was looking at the last one - a distorted, asymmetrical body with a large top half and a short, almost stubby beak. It stood on its hind legs, supporting itself with a jagged, black object.

The changeling’s beak twisted into a grin and the booming, piercing voice emitted a winding, groaning laugh. The griffon’s wings spread, clanging and grinding against the rough carapace, and the curved talons rose to the misshapen head, grasping it and pushing it hard to the side. Its neck was cracked as well, and it fell over backward, diving head first into the pile.

The mare hopped off the rock and spent several seconds mashing a hoof against one of her temples. She went trotting in time to follow the green blob that emerged from the last griffon, making her way to a solid wall halfway across from the next set of doors.

“Well, let’s not stand on ceremony.”

Once the blob seeped through the wall, the green glow highlighted a massive, tall section, which dissolved as the glow became piercingly bright for a split second. She cantered down the long, flat path, all plain cement with no decorations. It introduced a humid, stale smell to that of the ozone-like stench of dissipating changeling corpses and the incense burning throughout the spa. The mare made her way down three flights before stepping on solid ground, head hung low, eye staring forward. It was warm inside the vast, expansive space - a natural cave, drilled wider over time.

She shrugged, having lifted her head to look around. It stretched far, being almost as big as the entire spa center itself. Her hoof lifted to shield her eye as soon as a hint of the glaring green light appeared in the far distance. That light was less blinding, still a massive spotlight, but not as piercing, coming from only a single pair of eyes. Instead, it was behind her that a green flash went off - a huge, humming, plastic-bound, crystalline cargo elevator clinked its doors shut, changing the indicator light from red to green.

"Let’s walk and talk, pony. You earned yourself an invitation, so now that you bothered to show up, do please abide. And don’t get killed along the way. Fuck if anyone else makes for a good conversation partner these days.”

More glitter and light was cast down on the dove’s pinkish head as she took slow steps through the cave, moving toward the glaring eyes that stared at her from above at the far end. The ground became spongy and wet, nearly bouncing under her like a trampoline. Tall columns rose from the webbed, faceted surface and met the ceiling, pulsating, bulging, lighting up and dying down every few seconds, producing a sickly green light. Large crystals were stuck inside them, glowing and humming loud enough to create a melody underlying the crotchety, booming voice. At around twenty meters into the cave, the shapes at the end got no clearer, but the floor began to descend. The columns got taller and thinner, now less frequent. The eyes staring her down were now much higher up, sluggishly rising and falling the height of an apartment building story every minute.

Shallow pools of liquid surrounded her. Most were transparent, bubbling idly, while others radiated a soft green. During one of the nods that the eyes at the end continued to make, one of the transparent pools foamed viciously, turning green and still. The voice emitted a long sigh, which grew into a sharp, short, comparatively quiet laugh.

The floor righted itself again. Now the eyes looked down at her from the height of a four-story building. They were massive, clearly bigger than she was even from the distance she had yet to cover. Despite the persistent lamplight and overall green glow of the vast cave, the figure was surrounded by complete darkness.

“Not too impressed, are you? I can live with it. You certainly put on a fucking show to keep things interesting. Isn't it funny, you shouldn't even be here, pony. Carol City had everything set up, but then some cunt lost her marbles and went around smashing things. And then, ten years later… ehh-hah.”

She looked around. The spongy ground rose up in nubs and hills all around. Out of the biggest ones, cocoon shapes poked out, hollow and sunken in. Far by the walls, rows of dry, empty cocoons poked out of craggy holes. Pits the size of the pools that spread throughout the rest of the cave littered the floor. The mare spread her wings to get over one, but the eyes flashed brightly, encompassing the entire area in their light, making her budge. A chitinous barrier grew over the shallow hole. Her hoof pressed against the dove’s mask, rubbing all around, while the pegasus shook in place. Having shaken her head and blinked, she leaped over the hole.

“Feeling nauseous? Serves you right, mail mule. It’s not like you’re supposed to be here in the first place. Nobody is, to be fair. You were a cute little pony janitor who got fucked in the head, and now here you are, shining that picture on your butt, cleaning undesirables out of places. We got things in common, pony. I used to be a glorified radio tower, now I’m strapped here, getting fat, eating shitlings all day. We both should expect some payoff in the end, right? You’d love to have your dead royalty back?” There was a short pause, followed by an icy cackle. “Sometimes, I want mine back as well. Cause then I’d… never have to do this. I’d bleep and bloop. Simple, straightforward, no questions. None of this.”

The mare kept eye contact with the towering eyes, while her legs carried her around the bulging cocoon hills and pillars, with chitin covering the pits. The melody of the rattling devices, humming columns and her own breath under the mask was now joined by rare, loud, sighing breaths. They coincided with the eyes’ shifts in altitude. At one point as she stared into them, they sank again, and without the cover of the massive distance, it was clear that they got dimmer each time. This time, however, they did not rise. The pegasus stopped, flexing her wings. There was a short, concrete barrier strewn out in front of her, creating an impromptu wall that barely got up to her chin.

The eyes reawakened with a bright green flash. Underneath her hooves, the soft surface squirmed, spasmed and shook. Once her eye opened again, there were two dull, blank, motionless changeling drones in front of her. Their eyes were pitch black. Moving her eye to the pair that hung far above, she folded her wings and stepped ahead, pushing the drones apart.

“I’m really impressed. You ponies feed on cotton candy and shit rainbows all day, you’ll move mountains just to keep your lives simple. But not you, huh? Got a goal in mind, do you? Fascinating…”

Another flash washed over her, just as she knocked the first drone to the ground. It got up and stared at her with its partner. Their black eyes lit up with the green searchlights, which quickly simmered down to a regular bright glow. The one she knocked over stared at her, now shaped as a synaptic changeling, grinning from behind a long, green mane, a long scar over one of his eyes. The other was a much thinner, slightly taller drone, facial carapace deformed and twisted to almost resemble an equine skull with chitin layered on top, slightly obscured by a seaweed green mop mane on his head.

“Something goes wrong, and the whole herd goes running and screaming. How did you survive natural selection? Was that even a thing in your parts? You’d be way better off as our cattle. Yeah, you will.”

She lifted a hoof, gasping sharply. After a brief pause, she threw herself at the skull-faced changeling, mashing the gnarly snout with her forehooves. She barely got to the neural cortex before another flash and quake washed over the room. Now she sat on top of the remains of a pony - a dark pink unicorn with the makings of a dual blue and pink mane. It was barely a newborn, mashed into a chitinous mess under her hooves.

“I can’t read pony minds well anymore. Not since the latest queen bitch got fried. But then, why the fuck would I want to poke around in your nog? I won’t stick my tendrils into the cage of a psycho bird.”

Her heat rotated stiffly to the drone that stood to the side. A light purple blonde unicorn filly stared back, her lips twisting into a smile, while her shape flickered all over. The red drops covering her face and chest exchanged with steaming green, and at every blink of the pegasus, she changed to a bigger shape, a young adult, the same pony, but blurry and transparent. The injuries, wear and tear, and sickly look on the unicorn kept getting worse each time the masked mare blinked.

“You're not so special as you think. We all have our dreams. The luckier bastards get to live them too. It's just that everyone else has gotten so much worse with time. You're interesting is because your dreams are as fucked as life itself. And you’re aware of it, too. Can’t really polish a turd, but you’ll do it anyway.”

Her stiff, rigid hooves grasped the dove’s beak. With a struggle, the mask was torn off the mare’s face, leaving her exposed to the humid, distantly acrid air. Her jaw was hanging, and her good eye stared into the distance. Her bad eye shot to its corner, unmoving, stuck in a half-blink. Scarcely coordinating her limbs, she got over the fence, leaving the other drone behind. It collapsed and began to melt as soon as she departed, overtaken by a faint green aura.

“A mourning dove. How fitting. You birds like dressing for the occasion. Did you know a flock of crows is called a murder?”

The pegasus stumbled through the uneven terrain. The drop after the wall was higher than the wall itself, creating another elevated spot. The same wall formed a rectangle, the ends of which could now be seen. Within that rectangle, alongside a few more hills and mounds, as well as large dried out former pools, was another wall. Upon reaching it, she leaned against the cold stone, rubbing her forehead against it, while her hooves sank a few centimeters into the pores on the ground.

“We had someone to mourn too, after you fuckers blew her up. I should know... because her dying scream, that was my newborn wail, alright. Oh she was a whore, but she made us love her. And that was something that mattered... to all the deadbeats that got fed into my cortex. Now, Miss Birdy Bubbles, since we’ve introduced ourselves so thoroughly, I think it’s time we shook hooves.”

She pushed herself away from the wall, flexing her neck and rolling her eyes back before getting them centered again. Her limbs pulled themselves out of the small suctions in the floor, and her wings flexed. The inner walls of the cave’s ultimate depression segregated a big pool of still, green synapse, reeking of ozone. At the very end of the cave, where the organic floor gave way to the bedrock the city stood on again, was an entire complex of idly whirring, blinking crystalline machinery, with videodromes lining the conical end of the cave.

In front of the screens stood a desk and a big chair, the surface around them carpeted. On the desk, on top of several papers, was a big hammer, more than half her own size. The chair was turned to be facing her, and after a few seconds, she made out a large magpie griffon sitting on it, looking somewhere ahead, propping his beak up with a fist. Their eyes met, and they stared at each other long enough for the avian to cover his beak up with one of his hands and point the other diagonally forward.

Ditzy followed the gesture. The owner of the eyes was now visible in the glow of the synapse. Just as she made eye contact with the luminous, green bulges, they flashed once more. Her wings flapped swiftly and got her off the ground, preventing her hoof from stepping into a suction pore again. She touched down and finally got a good look at the creature straight ahead of her. The persistent, palpable, channeling darkness that shrouded it was gone, rags of it still spreading upwards to the ceiling.

“Tired of the theatrics? Blame our dear friend Engels. That worm-digging, back-stabbing, birdshit-brained bastard still thinks he can call the shots. He always said I should be ‘as discreet as I can’. Well, fucking finally, the time is right - now, how about he goes and fucks himself? Cause me and you have had it with this beakfucked shindig.”

The pony flapped her wings idly, head thrown back. Her jaw dropped again, moving up and down slightly. Her good eye stared at the abomination, motionless, and the bad one, with a spastic jerk, twisted itself to stare blindly at it as well.

It was an immensely tall, gargantuan, vaguely equine creature. It sat kneeling in the pool, which was barely big enough for it to fit in. The liquid receded with every passing second second, dripping away. Green wisps came into view in the absence of the shroud, sinking into the pool, just barely keeping it from drying out. The creature’s six bent legs took it up, but in comparison to the rest of the creature’s body, they were little more than nubs.

The massive figure that extended above the legs was a long, rising shape of something distantly resembling a man o’ war. Hundreds of bulging, pumping tendrils dangled between its legs, sinking into the bubbling green fluid. The thin, almost transparent grey chitin that covered the bulbous body burst in places, making way for greenish, veiny blobs. Other veins, like tubes, broke out of its body in one place and fed back in another, forming a cover akin to a series of spines on its back. The synapse, bubbling and steaming, coursed through those veins. Faintly visible behind the carapace were faint remnants of solids, some resembling equine, avian, or bovine organs.

The man o’ war corpus was at most five meters long, however. The rest of the creature’s height was due to its colossal neck. Veins spiraled around it, carrying fluids to the very top. Despite the sheer height, it was quite thin compared to the bottom half. The creature’s body rose and fell slightly as it processed the synapse within the pool, but the neck was shaking, occasionally lowering itself. That was the only time the stubby legs would move - the neck was nearly straight, and to lower it, the whole body had to lean forward. This was the process that made the glaring eyes bob up and down.

Those eyes took up most of the creature’s head. Only a thin ridge separated them, while the veins culminated in the back of its head, merging into a fat, spread-out cluster on the asymmetrical back of its skull. On top of its head were two enormous, pale green, wrinkly nubs. The creature made eye contact with the pegasus only due to her direction of approach - it was unable to look left or right, the glaring spotlights of its eyes planted owl-like, straight forward. It had no mouth, the sharp rising angle from its neck connected to the ridge of its snout and to the thick lines of chitin under its eyes. That rising angle, however, was filled with limply hanging, fat trunks of tendrils. They wriggled and writhed, rubbing each other, visibly damp and slick even from where she stood.

As she stared at the creature, the ground quaked and spasmed, releasing dozens of changelings, wet and smudged in synapse. They jittering and squirming as they emerged, only to go still as soon as they got out. Their damp, sharp shapes made creeping hoof and pawsteps. The mare’s wings brought her a few meters higher, while the entire horde spoke in unison:

“Oh, this? Not for you. This is for our fuckbeak friend. No, you don’t like shit easy, I gotta come up with something new for your twisted ass. Him? He’s probably mad that I wasted so much juice making an army to finally rip his obnoxious, tattling head off. Too bad for him, cause it only gets better from here.”

The chitinous bodies gained more flexibility and stride with each step, glittering with a stained, dirty green all over. Crackles of it bounced off the creature’s tendrils, the liquid in its pumping veins glowing a little brighter, and then stopped for a second before continuing their work. Still tucked away in his corner, the griffon stepped back slowly on his paws, picking up the hammer from the desk, while the ever rising horde began to obscure him entirely. Ditzy began to retreat as well, glaring at the monstrous creature, which glowed a brighter green with every smash and crack she heard from the griffon’s direction.

“I shouldn’t be doing this… But I don’t give a fuck. You’ve given me more than enough to bring back the old days. No, fuck that, fuck the old days. MY days! And I’ll herd you squirming cocks into ranches. I'll make sure your lot gets the simple life you crave. Eating, shitting, prancing, and sleeping. I guess a bit of Chrysalis' dumbfuckery did slip into me - I don’t care. I’ll enter the big bad world with a bang, and I’ll make a fucking show of it. Besides… your crazy ass wants to go out with style too, doesn’t it?”

Its neck creaked loudly as it brought its head down a few meters. A great rumbling spread throughout the cave, forcing her to slip into the air once more. As soon as she took off, the mare aimed herself at the tendrilous head, but was forced back by a strong repulsive force that covered the cave entirely in green. Ditzy landed beyond even the boundaries of the first concrete wall she encountered, sliding over the pores on the floor. Her grey coat went frazzled from the impact of the blast. By the time she got back to her hooves, the creature was once again coated in the artificial darkness. It glowed a very bright, light green now, hiding all but the darker shade of its eyes behind a swirling veil. The entire cave howled and hummed. Intense bubbling, boiling noises erupted from above and below her. The contents of the creature’s pool ran out. Near the spot where Ditzy stood, behind the first wall, green orbs began to bulge from the pores, coalescing into one. Bigger ones yet spewed from the few cocoons that appeared less limp than the others, quickly deflating after giving their due. A distant, low crackling sounded out above the cave, and the winding pores and upper tunnels brought about the howling of wind.

“Well, your wish is granted, you derpy, deranged motherfucker! I’ll allow myself this one bit of stupid. What-the-fuck-ever, I can’t compete with the Monarchs even if I eat my own brain! Chrysalis bet it all on some cunt’s wedding, got us all stoned off of pony ‘love’!” Green-and-cyan lightning pierced the forming body from the ceiling, followed by the same loud thunder. “Praxis, he cared so much to police everyone’s thoughts that he made copies of me, for fuck’s sake, and then the birds made him go boom - through ME. Stasis sat on her treasure and farted me into existence to pretend to rule, until all the dragons went nomadic. Shit is never simple! Shit is never fucking easy! All they do is make mistakes, fuck things up, ruin it all, break the damn story! But you aren’t like that. But I’m not like that. Look at me, I can’t put my ass on my head if I try! I'm sick of hiding, I'm sick of getting fat, I'm sick of dealing with idiots, I'm sick of eating literal degenerates - I'm going to LIVE! First in here, and then, everywhere!”

The synapse molded into a large shape, nowhere near the size of the shrouded creature, but more than tripling Ditzy in height. She stumbled toward it, leaping over the boundary. The orb took on a shape - a quadruped with massive cloven hooves. When its top half coalesced, the mare’s steps halted, and her jaw dropped. Above the equine lower half was an upper body like a minotaur’s, with tall, curving horns, and a long, almost flat snout. It was all liquid synapse, kept together by a faint green glow, but after a particularly strong quake, the glow became searing bright. Suckling, cracking, crinkling noises emanated from it as the outer layer of the liquid solidified into a chitinous crust, resulting in a dark, jagged changeling carapace. It all became a fully formed changeling body in a few moments, and the glow faded away. Ditzy was mobile again, spreading and bending her wings, crouching down on the ground, puffing as her eye looked the body all over.

In front of her stood a changeling in the shape of a centaur. Its carapace was black and jagged, but lacked the asymmetry of most, only sharpening at the joints and bends. Harder, darker plates covered its chest, abdomen and forelegs. An additional tube-like cover spread over the back of its huge arms. The palms of its huge, four-fingered hands faced her, glaring with holes through which the innards of the back-arm tubes were visible. Its head, now clothed in chitin, was an image straight from Tartarus. The carapace, far smoother and finer than that of any other synaptic creature, curved into a flat, vertical face, a fang-filled mouth, and two hollow nostrils. Its eyes melded into one at the middle. Chitinous tubes sprang from its forehead and back, forming a mane made of lighter-tinted spines.

The wind howled and carried with it the hammering of raindrops, coming from above. The cave was filled with the echoes of the sudden storm on the surface. A prolonged rumbling of thunder seeped into the cave, covering all in its distant vibrations. The monstrous body before her took in a loud breath at the sound.

With a jolt, it went aglow. The hollows on its body lit up, along with its eyes, going a blank green. It shuddered, flexing its fingers. Ditzy sprung from her place and sent a bladed wing at the glowing chest. The steel slid off with a high-pitched shriek, and she ended up butting the centaur with her snout, leaving her with a bruise. It quit shaking once the mare leapt back, and its body erupted with a brighter light. Its hooves dislodged themselves from the pores, and its head turned to the crouching mare. The luminous hollows were no longer green. A dark cyan illuminated it from the inside. Two glaring pupils came into being in the conjoined eyes.

“No more of this fat, bloating husk. Enough hurling pearls before half-brain swine. No more bullshit. No more words. This is for me. Mine, motherfucker! This day is mine! Equestria is mine! It's going to be all mine!”

A bright cyan web spread over the ground, brought on by a slow, methodical kick of the centaur changeling’s hoof. Ditzy vaulted to the side, crouching behind one of the columns within the area. The web spread over the entire cave, overriding the darkness and the greenish hues of illumination with its sharp, cold light. The same light clotted the pores underneath the centaur’s steps, giving it a trail of glowing prints. Her and it stared at each other, the pony bent down, wings spread, blades glittering in the oncoming light. The massive centaur slowly raised its arm, facing her with the palm.

A spiraling surge of greenish-blue spewed forth from the appendage, bolting through the spot the mare stood moments ago and striking one of the mounds. A loud steaming, sizzling sound saw the beam slip into the mound through the pores, lighting it up even brighter. The mare was several meters in the air, already halfway through to the opposite side of the arena. She landed on top of the wall and focused both her eyes into the centaur’s as it turned around to face her again. Another projectile shot out, missing her as she dropped down, taking wide steps toward the centaur with her wings spread out.

The pegasus walked in a straight line, her eyes open wide, the intense bluish light reflecting off them. A wing jabbed forward, throwing out a curved knife, which hit an armored forearm, getting stuck in the carapace. The centaur made no attempt to move from its place, instead bucking its front legs and stomping them hard on the ground, righting itself after a momentary loss of balance. It then hit the ground with its fists as well, all while she was still far out of arm’s reach. This caused her to halt and crouch down, continuing to stare down the massive changeling.

Her good eye twitched and aimed its pupil downward, seeing the much more intense cyan glow begin to spread under where she stood. The pegasus launched herself backwards with a single flap of her wings, hitting one of the towering columns behind her. Just as she did so, an intense, tendrilous cyan flame burst from the pores on the ground - much closer to the pillar, farther from the centaur. The centaur, meanwhile, made thundering, sluggish side-steps, one of its arms raised, spreading a continuous surge from the glowing, gaping palm hole. It grazed the rock walls of the cave at its very end, forming a wide, searing, spiraling cyan beam, bustling with greenish particles.

The pillar the mare had her back to was blasted and penetrated entirely, setting the dim crystals that lined it aglow. Ditzy herself rolled to the side, nearly falling into the pool the creature itself stood on, panting and shaking. A brief look behind her showed a multispecies horde devastating the office at the end of the cave. She only had a moment to peek, and the next beam was centimeters away from her when she shot forward and darted to the side, no longer constrained by the cement wall. The centaur continued to keep up, following her movement, not remaining in place while it trailed the beam in her wake.

They ended up on opposite sides again once the beam dissipated, spitting the last surges of energy out the gaping hole. She was on the right half, the centaur was on the left, and in between hovered the gargantuan, shrouded creature, whose cover now more resembled a bulging cocoon. Ditzy hopped on top of one of the mounds, kicking away discarded cocoons, and glared once again at the centaur, who glowed a dimmer shade now. Her slightly bruised snout twitched, lips tugging upwards for a moment.

The centaur’s flat snout curved in response. It stomped toward her, leaving behind glowing hoofprints, and the luminous plates and crevices on its body charged up to give a brighter cyan light. The centaur opened its mouth and spread its arms - several faint blue wisps slipped into its mouth, coming from the back room. It was back to its previous fiery light when it reached the mound she stood on, at which point she took into the air and landed directly behind it.

The centaur’s arms were still raised, letting out spiralling bolts, while her tiny figure leapt on its back, finding enough space to stand freely on all four hooves. The humongous legs were only beginning to kick and shake, arms still drooping after their expulsions. Her hooves slotted themselves between the ridges on its back, and her wing pulled far back before making a powerful thrust, straight into the mane-like chitinous tubes that came from its head and down its back.

The knife sliced through the strands, dropping the dry pieces of chitin onto the glowing ground. Within two strikes, the mare managed to hit the neck. She nearly hit her snout against it as the hard, glassy surface deflected the blade and sent her off balance, keeping her attached to the centaur’s back only due to her hooves lodging between its back plates.

They got out soon enough, however, as the beast stomped its hooves harshly on the ground, and it bent its arms, forming its hands into fists as it let out a low, rumbling hum. Ditzy was free from its back and in the air, but could not avoid the impact of the searing cyan flash that rushed out of every luminescent section of the centaur’s body, particularly its back. The massive shape was almost entirely dark afterwards, only a faint cyan tinge telling it from the husk it was when it formed. The front of her coat was singed, some hairs still burning a fading blue, and the fire spread onto her clothes.

The pegasus flapped in the air, hitting herself to put out the fire, shaking as her sleeves were reduced to rags, and she suffered burns on her chest and legs. While she was preoccupied, it walked in a circle, arms raised, mouth open wide, wisps slipping into its mouth one by one. She breathed quickly, setting herself back down on the ground, glaring at the centaur as it regained its former radiance.

The mare remained on the ground, breathing shakily, long enough for the suction pores to start attaching to her hooves, forcing her to wrestle with them. The centaur, who remained puffing and glowing in the center of the arena, picked that time to raise its arm, quicker now, and shoot out another spiraling bolt. The mare dodged at the last moment, letting another mound absorb the blast.

She was forced into a constant retreat, and the absorbed blast released itself far quicker now, pushing her even further back by narrowly scorching even more of her with a pillar of blue-green energy. A pair of bolts shot against the cement that was directly behind her, dissipating into thinning blanket waves of blue. She managed to reach higher ground, a few steps away from the battle inside the office. Layer upon layer of decayed changelings lay there, most of the equipment was demolished, and only a few moving figures remained. Those were blocked by another luminous beam, which crept towards her at a much brisker pace, forcing her back down into the arena. Sliding surges of cyan wormed their way up the rock wall around the beam’s point of impact, crackling and sizzling.

Ditzy made her way around the centaur again, skipping past it and moving toward a column. It followed the scorched mare almost immediately, stepping toward the column and raising both its arms to shoot out a whole volley of spiraling projectiles. The centaur neglected hitting her straight on - its arms launched a shot per second, first spread, then closing in, clasping eventually. The sound of the first shots instantly had the mare dart to the side and nearly fly face first into an oncoming shot. Skidding to a halt and barely missing the bolt, she flapped herself backwards.

In so doing, Ditzy flew straight into the dying lights of a missile that hit the column. The detonation flung her another meter before she hit the ground, surrounded by a cyan glow, smoking at her wings. The centaur stood in place and huffed, having gone dimmer again after the barrage. Its mouth spread into a grin, seeping out bluish smoke, much like the mare’s radiating back and wings. The rest of the arena was lit up entirely, nearly all of the bulging cocoon mounds having absorbed a blast, and now expunging the energy within.

The smoking, twitching, jolting mare got off her back as the glowing tracks on the floor passed over the remnants of the centaur’s hoofprints and zeroed in on her. Her breathing was ragged, every limb trembling from exertion as she and it stared each other in the eyes.

Wringing and worming her whole body, she sprung into the air a split second before the lethal glow arrived, and she slammed her chest onto the changeling’s plated back. Half of her dangled off the side, the bad eye rolling far back, her right fore and hind legs clinging to the centaur’s own. Those massive legs kicked and took a couple quick side-steps, but they could not fully avoid the blasts closing in across the floor, having doubled back to track the mare.

Most of the centaur was caught in the searing, blinding light of the combined explosion, and the mare was flung off its back once again. The large changeling fell on its side, lighting up the brightest it had been before imploding into a melting puddle of cyan liquid and chitin plates. The cave quaked. The pulsating cocoon shroud around the towering creature was penetrated by a bright stream rushing back towards its original source. Ditzy’s surviving eye and the creature’s glowing pair met once again as the refined synapse was absorbed once again - the cocoon removing itself entirely for the creature to sink into the pool.

“Give it… give it back... I need...” came a garbled, bubbling sound from the swiftly decaying mess left of the centaur, doubled by high-pitched, distorted, ratchety bleeping noises from the larger creature.

The mare’s failing eye gazed at the bulging mass. The ulcers and the pimples made the rest of its chitin flake off, and it had gone almost entirely cyan. Only its eyes remained green. A web of veins shone throughout its body, culminating in its head, which lost all of its hard cover, revealing a humongous cerebral cortex. All of it glowed, like the contents of a massive lava lamp, sludging around and slowly falling over, the cocoon no longer supporting the overlong neck that had also lost its exoskeleton.

A darker blot was revealed on its head. Ditzy’s good eye widened. A griffon floated above the deformed, tentacled head, covered in green and cyan sludge alike. The most stained was the huge industrial hammer he clutched in his talons. Within moments after the incapacitated mare saw him, he leaned his top-heavy body far back, raising the hammer for a blow.

The griffon’s croaking, growling grunt echoed throughout the cave as the hammerhead plunged through the liquified cranium and deep into the massive cortex. He then brought the weapon back, and it let out a sharp hiss, two hot streams of steam emerging from the head, burning through the rest of the organic mass as the griffon smashed it once again. A thundering, crackling, colorless flash encompassed the cave, tumbling the half-burned mare over and on her back again.

Her body went limp, eye clasped shut, twitching at the intense light.

The mare moved each of her limbs weakly, her right fore and hind leg barely responding. Her charred wings were pinned down by their own weight. Ditzy managed to crawl back a little, pushing herself with the muscles that would respond. A heavy coughing fit came over her, producing bloddy spittle all over her injured, arcanely burned frame. Wet gurgles rose up in her mouth, quieting down after another fit. She set herself against one of the rough mounds and watched the remnants of one of its emptied cocoons, which lay spread on the ground right next to her. The porous, organic surface of the cave slowly turned rough and stony.

Her breathing got more stable, and her head drooped. The mare wheezed now, bleeding a consistent stream of red out of her mouth and nose. It passed over the deformities left by the flames, creaking as it spread into the pores on the ground and onto her own body. Her lips, left intact by the damage, curled into an absent smile, and her jaw hung limply, allowing the blood to trickle out.

A large shape lumbered in her direction. Her good eye focused on it for a moment before slipping shut. It was the griffon, shaking and wobbling as he approached, struggling to walk in a straight line. He used his paws at first, departing from the monstrous corpse bipedally, before he let out a gasp and a groan, falling on all fours, dragging the sludge-covered hammer after him still. He coughed up blood as well. His vest and shirt were singed, revealing lightly burned plumage underneath. One of his wings dragged limply on the ground. Cyan and green blots covered him head to paw.

Upon reaching a column just by the mound Ditzy lay against, the griffon promptly rested his back against it, letting out a long sigh. He turned his beak toward her as she coughed up another spray of bloody drops. His low laugh echoed throughout the silent cave.

“Still alive?.. Yeah. Never underestimate a pony.” He hissed, grasping at his chest. “You did a good job. If not for you… Heh. Heh-heh. I'd have spawned the worst changeling monarch in all of recorded history. Not a title I've been working for.”

The mare sat still against her mound, showing no reaction to his words. He carried on regardless.

“My name… Ah. Right… I remember you…” He laughed, his voice a bit more faint, and he still clutched his chest, squinting at her. “You know, when we looked through candidates for this whole 'Equestria Delivery' business, I thought you'd get somewhere - one or two letters, no more. I should have had a feeling when we found so many sponsors in Carol. A lot more ponies than I thought were interested in incentivizing you guys. I even spoke to them, I listened to Corral Brand himself rant on and on about 'fixing Equestria', but... you know how confirmation bias goes. It was going to be simple, you know? Oh no, look at all this violence, look at these clinically insane maniacs plunging the country into 1003-esque mob justice… look at these tycoons supporting these horrible actions... look at the secretive changeling community spawning a new monarch to bring back their hivemind. Heh, heh-heh... heh...” He raised a talon, pointing at the humongous creature’s slowly desiccating remains, but Ditzy did not react. “No more Royal Sisters. No more Bearers, that's for sure - the only one that lived caused all this, but... Someone else can deliver Equestria - we just need a lot of solid excuses. You see, Ditzy? It was a good plan, wasn't it?”

Engels hissed and wheezed, massaging the wounds on his chest and rubbing his talons against his stained beak. Ditzy continued to heave and cough, while he continued to talk.

“That's what I thought. I'm not without fault, old lady... We set you up for failure, we needed you to all get killed, we thought Carol City would end you quick... and then you go and succeed, again and again, start cleaning the city. And that lets this bastard move in to gain enough synapse to try to turn into a Monarch, months before schedule. Look at me, I thought this was all salvageable. It all got so much worse, so much more complicated, but I kept going, I kept adding all these band-aids. I made us go all in, because it all has to go to plan, doesn't it?” He sighed and wiped his forehead. “I’m sorry, Ditzy. I shouldn’t be doing this to you. You’re not going to make it, and I don’t imagine you’re having a good time being alive right now. I should… get my old ass off the floor and do the least I can for you. But…” The griffon let out another groan, his hand lifting up the huge hammer a few inches. “I’m in no good shape either, and... if I’m honest? This is weighing on me. I made this happen. I don’t expect you to understand. I doubt you care. I don’t even know if you can hear me. It’s probably best if you don’t. I’ll get up and put you to peace once I’m done yapping. Not what you deserve after killing a centurion by yourself, but... we make do what we can, don’t we, old lady?”

The mare moved her head, roughly facing him. She opened one eye, glaring at him for but a moment before it closed just as rapidly.

“Sparkle's... questionable tenure made for such good ground to finally expand. No charged had to be made up, we only had to bring to light all that was already there. Equestria had lost its plot... Ditzy, I know who you are and what you did way back then. You weren’t alone.” Engels’ voice strengthened and he cleared his throat. "I have my sense of morality, but even I thought it would be for the best if we... relieved you of Twilight Sparkle. She tried to make things better, but one by one, it all backfired, it sent you all further and further off course. This place isn't even recognizable, is it? But she made you think it was fine. That it was all fine… all fine with a grand total of one Princess left alive, with your Crystal comrades dying out, and with one third of your population eating love with holes in their legs. Heh-heh… I can’t blame the girl. She lost all her friends, her family... Then you guys put her on a pedestal. She was a symbol for all of you. It’s hard to go up against friends, even if they’re not yours.”

There was a brief period of silence, and the griffon muttered something under his breath in a foreign language. He continued with a sigh.

“I know why you’re here. I can guess. Isidor sent you. Old, ugly, does magic. Yeah?” Ditzy opened her eye and nodded in response, coughing once more. “That’s… what I thought. He had more guts than all of Equestria did. He knew my plan was out of control when the Proxy got this huge and powerful. I can't believe how blind I was... This ugly thing was only, heh, four times my size once. Can you believe it?”

Sighing, the mare strained herself to turn around and look at the gooey remains while he spoke.

“Yeah… Equestria thought the last of these died in 1004, when the War ended. This was the last one. You killed the rest. This one is old… back from before our war. You’re forty-four, so you might remember - you were ten back then. I was twenty-five, just a field agent at the time… You even had it on the news. Griffon Empire fights back changeling threat. That was our trophy.” Engels sighed. “Changelings, they're networked creatures... used to be. Still are. Their king back then, Praxis was his name, he made a bunch of these to micromanage the entire hive, so nobody would stab him in the back. Stashed these underground, in water... we found them anyway. Keeping this one around… wasn’t worth the weight.”

Another low, fading laugh came from the griffon. The fabric of his clothes creaked as he tried to move, only to lean back again after just a few tries.

“He was meant to grow, you know... we fed him. Helped him wake up. Start talking. He'd take over a couple hundred changelings, and here's our excuse to march in with the army, save you guys. Not a bad plan B...” The griffon’s head bumped softly against the crystals on the column. “When a good idea turns bad, it’s far, far too easy to keep pretending it’s good. Isidor knew that. I had to have known... it all went off-script. We did what we could to clean up. Silenced witnesses... sometimes personally. But I just couldn’t make myself take out the root. So he helped me out. Old friend...”

The creaking noise came again, but it was now accompanied by a low, strained grunt. Ditzy slowly turned her head around, blinking at Engels, who had managed to get back up, standing on his paws, leaning with a hand against the column.

“Thanks for listening. Nobody else will get to hear that. I cleaned up the mess that I’ve created… but it’s best if there’s no mess to hear about in the first place.” He chuckled. “Not that you’d have told anyone. If only your injuries weren’t lethal, I’d have gotten you out of here. You are a remarkable pony. Your talent… your abilities… you’d have found work with us, much better work than what we paid you for your raids. But… I’ll be done now.”

Engels stumbled toward her, limping as he gripped the hammer with both hands tightly. He came to a halt in front of her, the two of them staring at each other for a few moments, and he swung the hammer back.

“You deserve some peace and quiet, Ditzy. You’re a wholesome individual, be sure of that.”

With a shrill, raspy screech, Ditzy sprung her burned, broken body off the ground, straight at the griffon. He toppled over from the sheer weight of the impact, cawing in pain as his broken wing slammed against the floor. His cry was quickly silenced when the mare’s teeth sank into his throat, tearing through the bulky meat, snapping and ripping again and again until a warm, red spray hit her face.

Ditzy pulled back and retched, vomiting a hard, chunky stream, after which she went limp on top of the magpie’s corpse. Her lungs expired the last of their oxygen, and her good eye rolled back.

“It’s okay now. It’s all going to be fine. Leaving is not as scary as it seems. This was a bad place. I’m glad you didn’t make me live through this.”

“Everything is going to be okay now, Mom. Come on. Me and Star are going home. We’re all going home.”

***

Dear Citizens of Equestria.

I apologize for interrupting all scheduled broadcasts, but I feel it is my duty to address you. All of you. Every single household, every last community. I know many of you hold a grudge against me for more than just this unexpected disturbance. After years of skirting around this issue, I believe it is time I came clean with you all.

Under my rule, Equestria had been destroyed. I destroyed it. I, Sovereign Princess Twilight Sparkle, made it crash and burn justso I couldcling to my vapid hopes and irrelevant dreams. Those who still defend me will say that I was but a teenager when this responsibility was placed my shoulders. That I had lost all my friends, first at the Canterlot Wedding and when King Sombra returned. The changelings took my brother, his fiancée and all my closest friends. The Princesses fell while fending off the returning evil... When they tried to use the Elements that I helped destroy in my killing of Queen Chrysalis.

I was in emotional turmoil and could not be expected to lead. The non-alicorn High Council could never be trusted and was rightly disregarded. The renegades from our own Emergency Situation Assistance Squads crossed the line when they went against both the Council and myself. There was a plan all along, a plan to bring about better days. To fully deliver, beyond the trinkets and gadgets the bigger cities can now enjoy. All of that is now irrelevant.

There was not one of us that did not suffer. Not the rich nor the poor, not the ones that made a fortune in the post-war chaos, and not the ones that my insipid decisions put on the brink of desperation. Our realm’s suffering was, and continues to be, incomparable. It was all of us that the changelings sucked dry, in one way or another. It was the entire country that lost its beloved Princesses. It was every soul left on every last patch of land that turned inward and looked with suspicion to its neighbors, changeling populated or not. In this darkest moment, we are all on even ground. None are privileged, not even the refugees. The tests, the innovations, all the science that went into making our former enemies into functioning elements of our society, the changeling component of our country knows they are deeply flawed. Their bodies and minds decay. They are no longer even a shade of what they once were.

I thought I could bottle up love and write down ponykind in a book, which they could then drink and read. I couldn’t. You rot from the inside, and the few of you that haven’t become mockeries of my kin realize that an atrocity was dressed up as a breakthrough in friendship. There was no compatibility, and if I could have seen beyond my vapid obsession, I would not have chosen to disregard the obvious. And in all of this, I lack an excuse for what I can only describe as insanity.

You have heard these words come from my opposition. You have heard these words come from the mouths of the armed renegades that formed the Emergency Situation Assault Squads, who my late cabinet and myself have dubbed despicable terrorists time and time again. I can no longer turn a blind eye to the truth, not after seeing what I was insistently told to keep quiet about by my lickspittle advisors, members of my former pseudo-democratic Council, all of them symbols of my own ineptitude at making decisions. Today, after so many years, I will make what could be the first real decision of my reign, the benefits of which shall outweigh the costs. After so many years, I have felt inspiration. The very thing that drew you to love me so much, those of you who could see past the name, wings and horn... and did not reel in disgust.

Today, I saw underneath our own city, New Canterlot - no, Ponyville - a changeling hideout the size of what this town once used to be. My critics can rejoice and feel a semblance of joy, for they were right. Our “guests” were brewing yet another scheme right under my nose. All while I spent days and weeks with empty talks on unification, shifting the blame from the changelings’ unearthly, incomprehensible nature onto ourselves. Then again, there is one fatal flaw among the arguments of my critics. It is not merely the radically different nature of the synaptic creature that meant such events were inevitable, even after the last remnants of their hive mind had been wiped out.

I want this to be made known.Had I not implemented the basics of pony psychology - until now only found among rare scout-type changelings who are potent in synapse- they would have been little more than autonomous husks. The fact that the drones you all so despise could even talk was onlythanks to my invention. It was never natural.There was no miracle of science.It was perversion. I implore that you feel the exhilaration that comes with being right. And now I shall repeat your words myself, in my newfound clarity.

I should never have ruled. I should never have let changelings in. They should have been scoured right away, put out of their misery. I should have supported Luna, and not Celestia, when she suggested they be immediately expelled instead of being studied. And when they were both gone from us, I should have refused Princesshood and let someone else take my place. When my failures began to show and the people of this realm rebelled, I should never have created a force more powerful than the Royal Guard to keep the peace. I should never have pressed for the Prejudice Rock pact and thus maintained the loyalty of my ill-born Emergency Situation Assistance Squads. I should never have even considered euphorium as a substitute for the changelings’ inherent addiction, not with the effects it showed on ponies. I should never have allowed crystal technology to develop into the aberrations we see today.

Do you hear me? Do you understand? Do you get it, all of you who defend me? Every single solitary problem that saw Equestria fall and rot for a decade lies in myself. I poisoned the well. In the face of my personal loss, I saw to it that everyone else lost as well. There is no counting of the lives I have ruined. Once a happy, wholesome unity of wonderful individuals, with their own special talents and paths in life.

And now? Children grew up with constant paranoia and insanity. Forced to gang up on others just to get by. Some cities are ruled by criminals. Spree killers became the new hidden norm. Mothers mourning their children. Orphans. Fanatics. Insanity.

I have done nothing but mouth your words so far, Equestria. I suppose I am wasting your time. Inspiration can do that to your mind. Down there, beneath the city, among the detritus and synaptic waste, I saw for myself, and all of us, an example. Of how even the unlikeliest of characters can rise up and make the world right, for themselves, and for all of us. Through actions instead of words. It is about time I laid out the former for you, Equestria.

In this moment, you are my top priority. There is nothing else I have left. Nothing more important than you. In the end, it was my duty to ensure brighter times, and I failed bitterly.

Now I will fix it all. Not by overlooking obvious biological facts. Not by creating weapons and drugs. Not by painting a picture of a world that ceased to exist a decade ago. As I said before in my empty, pandering speeches - I’ll see that we will become a wholesome unity of wonderful individuals. I can fix this. For history’s sake, one last aside.

...

I apologize for the rashness of my actions to Empress Adelie and the members of the Griffon delegation. I really do doubt that the paper I just signed would have had any tangible end result. I believe in your dedication to repairing the damage that I have caused, but I doubt that even your agents can gain anything from this ruined place. I trust your country has the strength to prevail, like mine did under my disastrous leadership. And to all our neighbors, I apologize.

Because I only see one way to make this right.

Equestria is gone.

“See? It’s fine. Everyone’s around. It was all just a really bad dream.”

“It was scary, but it’s over now. Just don’t think about it. It’ll pass on its own.”

Chapter 2: Overpower

April 10th, 1013 AN

Carol City, Equestria

88 Starling Avenue, “Mustang Sally” - 10:30 AM

The mare jumped off the noisy bike, shaking as her hooves hit the ground. With her lower jaw hanging, a string of drool tearing off into the wind, the pony wadded around for a few seconds and smacked herself on the head. Her body slammed into the vehicle, rattling the many chains and cosmetic plating attached to its frame, staining the pale pink, glistening jacket she wore. Having kicked the machine and caused it to quit rumbling, Handsome yawned loudly and followed the pavement to the entrance of the club.

The bike lit up with a bright flash for a second, the light quickly being absorbed by the frame, now buzzing a loud static sound into the air, causing a crystalline pendant to almost jump out of the mare’s front pocket. She punched it, almost knocking herself off course, and half-yawned, half-growled. The security guards gave the unstable, thuggish, nearly bald, pierced and scarred unicorn in visibly new, oddly matched clothes a long look. They stepped out of the way once she approached them, letting her down into the club proper.

The soft interior glow illuminated Handsome as she descended, flexing her neck and shifting her bloodshoot green eyes around the club. After a few seconds of pause, the mare started to her right, where a griffon had stood up on his hind legs, slowly waving his hand. Seeing the pony walk over, he exhaled and sat back down, clicking his talons on the table.

She burped, sitting down on her haunches, sliding down on the slick sofa with her smooth jacket. The mare yawned again, her lower jaw getting locked up, forcing her to hit it with a forehoof. The griffon who sat at the other sofa eyed her, head tiltting. Before speaking up, the raven gave the club a quick look over.

“Restless night?” he inquired, his quiet, lowly timbred, accented voice barely standing out in the club’s ambience.

“Got my quarter hundred?” Handsome asked in return, snorting and hacking to clear out her throat.

“We’re having a quiet little talk,” the raven told her, squinting his eyes. “We’ll lead you to your money once we’re done.”

“And why the fuck’s that?”

“Because while I can be seen talking to something you dig out of a trash can, but I won’t be able to explain giving it money.” The griffon straightened out his back, leaning onto the table, closing his beak toward the mare. He crossed his arms, rattling the zippers on his own leather jacket. “This place isn’t under our… ahem, ‘our’ control—" He briefly flicked a talon in the direction of two guards in white suits and blue shirts. "As such... Let’s be discrete.”

“Hey fuck you, I do what I want. I wear what I want, too.” Handsome put her forelegs on the table, making the tight, leather of her shiny, new clothes squeak. “And bling ain’t all I want, so I want my righteous cash.”

“You look like you’ve purchased more than just new clothes, I can say that much,” the raven said, giving his forehead a scratch, sliding his talons flat down his head, smoothening the plumage. “Are you even, uhm… ‘work-capable’ right now?”

“By my standards, I’m looking fucking fancy, asshole. Now don’t make me trash this place to prove it, because I’ll break your beak in half while I’m at it.” Handsome’s bloodshot, widened green eyes glared through the avian.

“That is more like it. Save up your strength for the moment. I doubt this club is worth the effort…” The raven looked over his shoulder, tracking the few other figures within. “Not the way things are going in the city right now. To think we planned to target it. Hmmm.”

Handsome shrugged and pushed her back into the sofa, scruffing her chin and wiping a bit of smudge on her glistening jacket.

“Yeah, this is kind of a shithole. The fuckwads in my gang used to hole out here before the Majors came in,” she commented, nodding at the guards. “At least these candyasses fixed the lights. So what do you wanna yammer to me about?”

“Some details for the assignment. You’ll have to forgive me if our operation right now is in sort of… a bout of spontaneity. Our original plans had to take a back seat following the drastic changes in the ‘underworld’, as it were… However pathetic you think your old gang to be, them losing a good half of their members as well as their, ahm, criminally esteemed leader, is not exactly as we thought things would go.”

“Well I’m fucking sorry I didn’t die then, huh?” Handsome spat at the table.

“This simply means we have slightly different priorities, and no, don’t worry, you still kill things that bleed green,” the griffon talked on, ignoring her. He almost mumbled, eyes darting back and forth. Handsome scowled, perking up her ears and leaning into the table. Her own eyes looked to the others in the bar, scanning through mares and stallions in white and blue. A pair of interior security guards dressed in the same colors passed a nearby table, the beads on their ears fizzling with noise. She sighed, lowering her head and frowning at the griffon. Her foreleg muscles twitched. “How much do you know about Cross-Continental Solutions?”

“Uh…”

“The ‘Caballerons’.” The raven rolled his eyes. “Were you around long enough to get involved with them?”

“Do I look that old? I’m not fuckin’ eighty, birdbeak,” Handsome said, chuckling and coughing, going on for a few seconds, eventually having to punch herself on the chest. “They’re bottom feeders, I thought the Majors put them out of commission by now.”

“Not quite. Your old gang were the bottom feeders.” He pointed a talon at her, black glove crunching. “The Caballerons aren’t. Not yet. Do you know where they operate from, their main agents, primary venues, all of that?”

“Why the fuck would I? They’re some greasy southland fossils wearing pink and acting like the moon still has a face on it. Shit, even I got better assholes to smash.”

“I’d assumed. Well, the good news for you is that you will be helping put these… ‘fossils’ in the ground where they belong. It’s the mansion at 16 Tejuano Heights. Now, please, don’t underestimate them. Tactics are not their strong suit, but neither are yours." The two stared at each other for a while, the mare frowning and growling, a light trail of dribble leaving her mouth. "You won’t make a big impression barging in. Expect a harder fight,” the griffon told her. He opened up his zippers, checking them momentarily, and zipping them back again, repeating the motion occasionally, simulating being occupied. He talked out the side of his beak. “They aren’t geniuses, they’re slow on the uptake… Imagine yourself, but not as good. And possibly less inebriated.”

She raised a hairless eyebrow.

“And you’re ratting them out, aren’t you?” The mare grinned, starting to tap her hoof on the table to the beat of the music in the club. “Fuckin’ bird.”

“Why do you think we’re in this dirt hole, and not somewhere more proper?” he replied, making her grin even wider. “Aside from how you look more natural coming here. Can I continue or do you have more wit to dispense?”

The pony neglected to make a reply.

“The mansion is built very wide. The heads of the organization see it as their familial heirloom, so things should be rather dire for them if they use their firearms. That said, the whole operation has been on a downward spiral recently.” He looked at a bypassing waiter, tracking them while speaking. “Their lieutenants prefer to keep their horns to telekinetic magic, as I’ve heard you do. Assume they’re better than you. Don’t toy with them. They’re easy to single out, there are few other unicorns among the ranks.”

“Ugh… I have a question,” Handsome said, drawing out words, slowly drooling on the table. “Do I even get to kill any fucking roaches? Do they, like, let them into the mansion? This sounds really boring.”

“You will,” the raven uttered sharply, turning back to face her. “The whole hierarchy is filled with them. As a matter of fact, today they hold a commendation identity binding party to their ‘newfound synaptic cohorts’.” The side of his beak twitched as he spoke. “The Caballerons fell on hard times. You only expect that they get desperate. Just don’t underestimate them.”

“Bleh. Look, crowface, lemme repeat myself.” The mare bit on her lip, sending a trickle of blood down her chin and neck. “You keep talking to me like I’m a four year old, and I’ll break your crap in half. And then I’ll cry over the money.”

The raven rose from his seat, propping himself up with his talons, and closed his beak with Handsome’s face on the table.

“I’m trying to make sure you live to see the next day, so long as you don’t kill yourself burning through your payment. And if you want to kill me so much,” he told her, tilting his head and cutting a subtle smile. “I am particularly agile with a fencing sword, and you can expect me to change my stance regularly. Your bulky weapons won’t have a whole lot to hit. If I see an opening in your stance, I will leap and put a blade through your throat. But that’s me. My inferior copies kept around for surveillance and security, however…”

“Dude, I don’t remember myself back in school, but I definitely feel like I’m back there right now.” Handsome asked with a whine, raising her head with force and yawning halfway through. “Are you done cutting the shit?”

“When you see an enormous, obese minotaur, shoot or topple it over. Hope that it’s real. Changelings would put up a better fight than the real deal,” he went on unabated, cracking his neck and looking down at the mare. “And if you see either an old earth stallion in a particularly expensive suit, or a pegasus with his mane dyed blonde… send them my regards, and to the Inferno.”

“Are we done?” she asked again.

“Almost. This is a big deal, so you won’t be there alone. Equestria Delivery has, in spite of the commotion past your first mission, broadened its ranks. I suggest you double-time it and attack together. I don’t expect you to show much teamwork, but try to at least not get your companion killed.” Handsome rose from her seat, shaking her head, lips wobbling around, eyes darting, hints of swears leaving her mouth in incoherent tatters. Her blood vessels slowly gained in red, her cheeks took on a pale flush. “Now calm down, and let this mare walk you over to where you’ll get the cash. I need to go. Au revoir.”

“You FFFUCKING what?!” the mare finally sputtered out, banging her hooves on the table, but by then the griffon was already halfway out of the club, and a daffodil earth mare in a plain suit was standing by where he used to seat, beckoning her over silently. She switched her bulging eyes to the unknown mare, grinding her teeth. “Big… fffucking… deal, you… shit-eating… I sat! For a week! Buying shit and drinking shit and eating shit! And you had other assholes run around and do MY job???”

“Twenty five thousand should calm you down. Don’t get angry,” the shady pony told her as Handsome was pushing and jerking her body from behind the table. “We’re just trying to make sure this works. Nobody here wants to die.”

“You sound like you fucking want to! You sound like I haven’t got my ass tatoo yet!” Handsome hissed, pushing one of her forehooves into the table, now no longer obscured by the shadow around the couch. The soft orange light illuminated half her snout, glistening off some of the fake teeth. “I could rip your head off, then murderfuck everyone else in this hole, sell off your organs and get my money that way, how about that?!”

The white unicorn now stood right in front of the yellowish mare, her lips contorted in a scowl, while the mare stared back with her own mouth hanging open slightly. Her pale blue eyes barely followed Handsome as she twitched around, spitting on the floor. Slowly, the yellow mare closed her eyes and raised a hoof.

“Neither of us are ready to die yet,” she said quietly. “We have better things to do.”

“Such as? Lecture me around like I’m fucking, eleven or some shit?” the scarred, tatooed pony asked, tilting her head.

The other one jerked her head, taking a sharp gasp, then gulping. Strands of hair peeked and bounced out of the tight yellow bun of her head. She looked straight at Handsome.

“We’re all in the same boat here. You’re not alone. Don’t be angry about that. I’m not going to die trying to get you paid.” Her eyes widened as she took a step forward, staring directly into the white unicorn’s eyes. “I want to die covered in steaming synapse,” the mare whispered, her lips trembling, eyes twitching, a smile creeping onto her face.

“...”

“This… isn’t right… if we die now. There are great things in motion now. There is more to do. We aren’t done yet,” she continued, refusing to blink. Her snout jabbed back and forth, bird-like, as she jolted throughout her speech. “Our story isn’t over.”

“I don’t plan on dying.” Handsome replied, backing away a few steps. “Keep pissing me off and I'll smash you, and I’ll smash everyone else, and I’ll loot the drinks too.”

“Then you’ll be saving the bugs I was going to crush,” the yellow earth pony murmured, grinning in full, breathing heavily through her nostrils. Her rare, unkempt bluish mane stuck to her sweating coat. “I’m not ready to die, and neither are you.”

“...” Rubbing a hoof against the squeaky jacket and raising a pierced, fleshy eyebrow, Handsome moved her mouth silently, before shaking her head. “Whatever. Show me the money before the guards start acting up. One’s staring right at us, my horn is getting itchy.”

The other mare forced her grin into a subtler smile, exhaled loudly, and ascended out of the club, with the ragged unicorn following her lead. She trotted away without another word, a long, narrow, taped up box laying on the hind hoof stand of Handsome’s vehicle. Arcane electricity swirled around it, agitated after it had been dropped

“See you later, I guess?..” she mumbled, before hacking a slimy spit at the ground and pushing the pendant in her pocket, recalling the electrical guard into the bike’s crystalline engine. She fastened the box to the chassis with the chains hanging off its side, and kicked the vehicle to life. “Cuntface.”

***

Handsome stumbled out of the thick brush, giving the motorcycle a kick with her hind hooves to silence the motor. Her horn sparkled to life, levitating the torn up box and a duffel bag from the quieting-down vehicle. The pony stomped in place, creaking her neck and huffing loudly, then giving herself a smack on the snout. The bike was overflown with electricity as she pushed the pendant. She squinted and looked around, before dropping the box and bag on the road and unzipping the latter.

In a few minutes, Handsome pulled a slightly oversized, stained, partly torn postmare’s uniform over her slick clothes. Next, the rubber vulture mask came over her head, leaving her limp and motionless for a few moments, before causing a giggly gurgle to emit from her throat. With a bright sparkling, the mare removed the new duct tape from the long box, leaving it covered almost entirely in patches of cheap and solid tape. Inside lay a massive club, dozens of sharp objects sticking in and out of it, some having been forced deeper while it was contained in the box, some having pushed through the wood outright. The mare flung it up in the air and made a few swings, nearly knocking down a nearby palm tree. With a hoarse, hissing laugh, she stomped to the clearing where the winding road up the cliff ended, and where a pair of sports courts belonging to the mansion on a neighboring cliff stood.

The eyes behind the mask shrunk when she stumbled upon several dead bodies of changelings, a few minutes into dissolution, as well as a single body of an actual pony - a brown mare in a hot pink palmtree and parrot patterned shirt. Some had their necks snapped, some lay with most of their heads splashed and steaming on the ground, a few had a singular slice at around the chest or the throat. Over the only non-changeling corpse stood another pony, a pegasus in postal uniform. There was a pigeon’s mask obscuring their face.

Handsome began to approach the pigeonhead pegasus, leaving a trail on the ground with her club as it dragged behind.

“Hey, asshole.”

The pegasus' head twitched and a single yellow eye stared intensely at the unicorn. The other eye twitched idly, looking upwards and to the side. Attached to the end of that postal pony’s wings were knives that glistened with a mixture of thick green and pinkish red.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Handsome's club began to scrape against the paved path that surrounded the court. Her own bloodshot green eyes glared at the other postal pony, provoking no reaction.

“Who said you could kill these shiteaters?” the unicorn spat inside her mask. “They’re mine.”

The pigeonhead blinked, first the active eye, then the lazy one. Handsome growled, bringing the club ahead of her with a burst of radiance from her horn.

“Are you mute or something?” she asked, puffing her nostrils. Her joints twitched, and the club swung slowly in the air, nearly filling the distance between the two ponies.

The pegasus looked away for a moment, after which they nodded. One of their wings extended in the direction of the mansion. Subtle outlines of blackened bodies were given away by weak steaming trails at several spots around the building. Handsome stomped her forehoof against the tile, leaving behind several cracks.

“Just fuck off! You must think you’re cool, huh?” she wheezed, filling the mask with even more spittle. “I got shit to do - you’ve done e-fucking-nough! Don’t even try and get in my way, asshole.”

The unicorn stormed past the pegasus, giving them a heavy shove as she walked past. They only took a single step to the side, neglecting most of the impact, leaving Handsome to stumble for a few steps. She turned around sharply and began to raise the club, but the pigeon was already cantering over to the walkway on the far side of the court that connected it with the mansion.

Handsome groaned, breathing heavily. Her club bashed against the ground, dropping off bunches of soil as it was lifted up and swung loudly through the air. The masked mare turned her head toward the main entrance, cleared by the pigeon of the changeling guards. She ran straight over several dissipating bodies and dragged the club through others, covering it in glowing green goop.

16 Tejuano Heights - 12:29 PM

“YOU’VE GOT FUCKING MAIL!” the postal mare roared as her club swung at the heavy wooden doors.

Her frame rammed through the wooden mess that remained, stumbling into the foyer. She slid on the rug, shoving an assortment of statuettes off the drawer before bumping into it. Her forehoof came crashing down on the broken ceramic, adding more noise to the shrill screech that emerged from beneath the mask.

The mare stomped to the left of the foyer, staring straight ahead and bashing her enormous weapon against the walls, tearing up the palm tree patterned wallpapers and breaking off chunks of stone. As she neared a door, it opened, providing a living target for the club’s next impact. There was a loud thud paired with wet, squishing noises as it nearly halved a pony. Handsome stopped for a moment, pulling it out of the body, ripping pieces of bleeding flesh off the still-eyed maidmare.

Handsome's hacking laughter echoed past the curve of the corridor, where multiple brown stallions in pink emerged from. Two rushed for the door, leaving one behind, shaking in place and hurling on the floor. One of the stallions kicked the door open, immediately pointing ahead with an armed foreleg. The crystal mechanism shattered as the postal mare’s club crashed into his hoof, penetrating and breaking it in several places with the force of the impact. Another strong telekinetic pull threw him forward, straight into the kitchen Handsome was in.

Multiple cabinets were broken open and much of the pottery was scattered all over the floor as the pony kicked and screamed, dragged around by his mutilated foreleg. Although the next swing out the door missed the second pony, the inertia separated the gangster from his appendage, crashing him head-first into a window, which half his body hung out of.

Handsome growled and slammed the kitchen wall, breaking an ornate clock and covering a mural depicting a sword-armed pony in ancient armor in fresh blood. The foreleg, attached to the other side of the club, remained attached, leading to another shrill howl. The clanking of pottery and the shattering of glass signalled the mare’s exit out the other kitchen door, which she bucked out with her hind hooves.

The thick wood had little room to fly, falling straight onto the nearest Cabalerron of the five that surrounded the door. The dark grey mare fell flat on the floor, clenching her head, steaming green ichor spreading through her long pink mane. Rapid shouting filled the mansion’s interior for a brief few moments before it was drowned out by a series of loud, thundering shots, littering the walls with glowing pellets. The guns were still banging when the noises were taken over by hoarse, roaring laughter and wet, sloppy squishing sounds, followed by thud after thud. Handsome’s club swung ahead of where she stepped, finding each target of the four, incapacitating all of the meeting party at the door within two swings. Several additional hits swung loudly through the air, sprinkling the corridor with red and green, but none remained standing.

The Caballerons’ bodies were strewn around haphazardly, clothes torn, entire body parts missing from some. One of the stallions had his snout mostly removed, leaving a guzzling synaptic mess to form once the body convulsed on the floor. Another’s behind was a raw red bleeding gash, one of the smaller nails previously placed on the club now stuck deep in the flank - the gangster’s front, in turn, was all bent up, neck turned at an unnatural angle, head pressed up against a corner with the eyes bulging out. One more lay limp on his side, leaking blood out a massive crack in his head, still lips touching the sharp white bone that protruded from a broken, bent foreleg. The last had steaming green goo pouring from a large crack running down his split snout, while his abdomen steamed and glowed harder than an average dead changeling’s, penetrated by several of the gangsters’ own friendly fire bullets. The blood and synapse-covered mare heaved, glaring at the corpses.

“I’LL SMASH YOU, INTO, FUCKING, PASTE!” Handsome roared. She stomped her leg on the mare that had been knocked out by the door until there was a crack left on the wooden floor. Her head turned sharply, flinging red droplets off the vulture’s beak, when the last thug from the first group to meet her fell over on the other side of the corridor. “AND YOU TOO.”

The pink stallion lay in a pile of his own vomit, unblinking eyes staring at the remnants of other Caballerons. He scampered to get up as the mare stomped towards him, her club pulling chips of wood out of the floor, but a bright green glow formed at the collar of his stained shirt. The baton attached to one of his flailing forehooves broke the window he’d tried to leap through, showering the pony with glass. His gurgling scream was cut short when his body flew all the way back over to Handsome, landing at her hooves. The club came down on his abdomen the next moment, ripping through flesh and bone submerging into the intestines and organs. Handsome hacked and turned around, cantering for the end of the corridor, dragging the thug’s body by a bleeding cord of guts.

The masked mare switched to a gallop as a hail of high caliber crystalline rounds thundered down the corridor. Chunks of gore spread on the walls as she ran. She lowered her head, horn going dark. Her weapon sent out a wet, squeaking thud as it and its gut wrapping fell on the floor. Handsome herself leapt at the tight group of armed gangsters that emerged from the ornate door at the end of the corridor.

The unicorn stallion at the head of the group raised his revolver-armed forehoof at the airborne mare, but the loud shot ended up showering them with debris from the ceiling as he fell underneath her. She banged her head rapidly and strongly enough to break the nose and bludgeon out one of the eyes, covering his dark goatee in a mixture of mucus and blood. Her body smashed sideways into the stunned thugs to her right, knocking down a big wooden baseball bat that was being raised by a copy of the unicorn on the floor. Foaming inside the mask, Handsome head-bashed the female gangster beside the changeling, whose body was riddled with bullets from the mare’s gun as the vulture banged the foreleg against the wall. The masked mare rammed the wall itself with her head, screaming, as her horn re-lit.

The Caballerons on the other side were getting up on their hooves when the killer vulture turned around sharply, twisting and tilting her head, staring at them, horn aglow. One of them balanced himself out and raised a hoof to send a metal baton crashing at the mare’s chest, but his aim was thrown off by a thick line of intestines landing on his foreleg. The next moment, the massive spiked club followed through, breaking through half his body. The other thug hopped back, avoiding his colleague’s corpse falling on top of him, but his gun wasn’t up in time to stop the mare from closing distance and grabbing his leg. He let out a distorted, echoing screech as the leg was broken, thick synapse pouring out, and the gun was shoved into his face. The revolver discharged, popping the changeling’s head and spreading green, vaporous goo all over the room.

Handsome’s half-hiccuping laughter spread into the room the five were guarding once she pushed the door open with the butt of her club. It was a wide hall, decorated in shades of pink, gold and brown, with the statue of an armored pony towering atop a fountain in the middle. Rugs were laid in a circle around the fountain, most empty and crumpled, with gilded swords dropped on the floor in front of them. Three had shuddering, twitching changeling drones sitting on top of them, their jaws hanging open, the light in their dull green eyes flickering on and off. The mare’s chuckling echoed through the hall, albeit muffled out by frantic shouting coming from all around, as well as hoofsteps and occasional gunshots emitting from the second floor.

Her laughter ceased - she stomped over to a wide, forking stairway at the west end of the hall, piercing one of the inactive droned onto her club without looking. A louder series of gunshots came from the top level, followed by several abrupt screams. Handsome growled and began to get up the steps, before stumbling and tumbling back down when a heavy quake rumbled through the hall.

The masked mare clung to her temples, slurring incoherently. A shadow fell over her frame, slightly bigger than that of the fountain statue’s. Handsome rolled off to the side and levitated her weapon over before a brown minotaur’s hoof cracked the steps she was laying on. He stood in place for a few seconds while the mare breathed heavily underneath the mask. Some five seconds later, he turned around and searched the room before focusing his blurry, bloodshot-pink eyes on the unicorn that stood directly in front of him. The bovine twisted his obese frame, pulling the hoof out of the rubble left of the steps, and swung to face Handsome, creating a loud clatter with the dozens of seashells, amulets, gemstones, plastic pins, whistles, smoking pipes, spoons and photo cameras that hung off his neck. The unicorn shook her head, crouching and taking short steps back, putting the club several meters ahead of herself.

The minotaur took in a deep breath and raised his large arms, causing Handsome to jump back and swing at the air. The loud whistling of air was drowned out by the massive minotaur’s long, drawn-out belch, especially as he swung his head in circles while his hands shook in the air, index and pinky fingers outstretched. The unicorn stood still for a moment, eyes fixed on the fat minotaur. When he stampeded towards her, hands still raised, she rolled off to the side, taking the club with her. Her body lifted off the floor tiles for a moment as the minotaur crashed into a wall.

Moaning and screeching, Handsome got back on her hooves and flashed a bright spark off her horn, launching the spiked club into the minotaur’s back. He was removing himself from the imprint left in the stone wall, pieces of a mural stuck on his upwards-pointing horns. There was a dull, wet squishing noise as the club’s many points sunk into the minotaur’s back. The fat bovine stopped, clinging to the rim of his imprint with his hands, and shook his head.

Handsome slid off to the side as the minotaur stampeded in her direction again, much faster in spite of the huge weapon stuck in his back by its many hooks, blades, nails and needles. She collided with the edge of the fountain, while the minotaur fell down on the stairs. She lifted herself off from the floor on shaking legs, hacking and spitting into the mask. The bull was already getting up as his purple palm tree and parrot themed shirt was overflowing with thick red blood.

The unicorn screamed, loud enough to outmatch the sounds of bullets fired, cracking off pieces of the fountain near where she stood. She charged at the recovering minotaur, evading a series of further shots, which ceased before hitting their mark. There was a heavy smack as she rammed horn-first into his belly.

The skin wobbled, and the unicorn herself was launched just far enough back for his fist to only penetrate a layer of floor tile. The bull bashed his knuckles together, shaking his head and letting out a whistling, hooting yell, pumping one of his hooves into the floor, cracking it into dust.

“ALIVE!!!” he screamed, staring at the vulture with blurry eyes. Handsome had gotten up, narrowly avoiding tripping over a nearby changeling corpse, which lay twisted, all limbs and neck broken, a curved knife in its forehead. She cracked her neck, stepping back, squashing a puddle of synapse in the process.

The massive bovine stayed in the same pose for several seconds before falling over into the large pool of his thick red blood.

The mask's beak sunk in as Handsome puffed, trotting over and pulling the club out of the minotaur’s back. She brought the club down on his head repeatedly, smashing the thick skull with the side that had been padded out with his own flesh, until there was a loud crack. The unicorn moved banged the club against the floor for a short time, getting some of the flesh to fall off.

She stopped momentarily once her eyes traced the hall, which gained a number of new corpses, all twisted, slashed, some with knives stuck in their necks or heads. Off to her side was a big malformed minotaur-shaped synaptic, dissipating face-down with a knife stuck in the back of its neck up to the handle. A door on the opposite side from where she entered creaked shut, the back of a postal uniform barely visible before it closed.

“YOU’LL FUCKING WISH YOU WERE DEAD!” Handsome screamed, galloping for the door. Her weapon plowed against the tiles, following several meters behind.

The recently shut door broke open, flying off its hinges when the unicorn’s masked head crashed into it. A few of the wood chips that sunk into the mask on impact were transferred into the face of an undisguised changeling thug who’d nearly avoided being struck by the door - Handsome bashed her head into his as his hooves slid to a halt in front of her. There was a hoarse, coughing screech from behind the vulture’s beak as she levitated her club over, breaking through the remains of the door frame, and flattened the sliced-up, weaponless changeling against the floor with a single hit.

Synapse splattered all over the narrow corridor, covering stone vases and idle torches on the walls with another layer of green atop the one already present. There were two more bodies up ahead, a pink unicorn mare with flowing black hair and a synaptic changeling, both their bodies twisted, gashes running up their abdomens. The wide room beyond the corridor was thick with brown and pink, flashes of crystalline gunfire and telekinetic magic. A grey silhouette skipped back and forth, dashing from Caballeron to Caballeron.

Handsome jerked and threw her head back, letting out a gurgling falsetto howl and crushing the vases to her side with the club. She ran for the room ahead, crushing the bodies underneath her hooves, her weapon leaving behind a trail of deep scratches and chips on the floor.

The screaming unicorn threw herself to the left and brought the club forward in a wide, sweeping swing. Before the two thugs collided with the glass displays lined up against the wall, she swung again, catching two more, sending their bodies flying onto the rug on the floor. The large spiked club whistled through the air, crushing bone and chitin with every swing, sprinkling the remaining scattered Caballerons with red and green. The firing team of six ponies and changelings in pink was torn apart, pieces thrown all over the display room, by when the unicorn stopped.

A hollow, hoarse moan came out of her throat as she bent her legs, threw her head back and broke out into an unsteady run for the other end of the room. Her horn lit up with a bright, radiant green.

“I’M FUCKING INVINCIBLE!”

The nearest gangsters fired off shots in her direction, but only a short volley was fired before they were splattered against the wall. The heavy club spun wildly, creating a whirlwind circle of blood and, synapse spike-pierced wood. It followed in Handsome’s wake, mowing down half a dozen thugs before the unicorn reached the other end of the room. Several changelings had their upper halves torn off completely, leaving only the hind legs and the lower body where they once stood, while their shredded heads, forelegs and abdomens flew ahead.

One knocked down a Caballeron unicorn shortly before the pegasus landed on him and put a foreleg through his throat. Multiple gangsters in finer suits spun around with the cloud upon impact, dragged by their penetrated flesh and the fabric, splashing the room with fountains of blood.

Handsome herself came up on the two survivors from the other side. Her body slammed into the tall brown unicorn, knocking him into a glass display, shattering it and showering the stallion with the shards. A brown mare, laying on her back, with a curved knife stuck in her shoulder, was slowly crawling toward one of the doors at the end of the room. Her silhouette emitted light flashes, going dark for brief seconds, and there was thick green synapse oozing out of the shoulder wound. The earthen mare’s silhouette switched back to its true form as Handsome brought her forehooves down upon her, stomping down on the shoulder and sinking the knife well into the floor, before trampling the head and crushing the synaptic’s jagged horn. It turned into a soup of chitin and synapse by when the masked unicorn’s own back was being splashed by the body liquid shower of her rotating club, catching up with its owner.

The unicorn gangster stood in front of her as she turned around, his own horn glowing, levitating the dark metal sword formerly contained in the glass display. Handsome threw her head back to bash at his snout, but her masked forehead met thin air as she did so. The bloodied, glass-pierced unicorn falling down on the floor with a knife sticking out the back of his neck. Her hooves slipped on the blood-soaked carpet, tumbling her down onto the fresh corpse.

The next moment, the sword, engulfed in leftover magic, collided with the spinning club. The two magical auras merged together, and the sword stabbed into the wildly rotating wood. With a high-pitched whine, the sword shot out, spinning backwards before stabbing into something. A sharp, piercing noise picked up, ringing out through the room. It was followed by a blinding greenish-purple flash and a heated shockwave, smashing all the displays and tossing the metalwork and jewelry into the mess of bodies on the floor.

Once it subsided, Handsome got her bloodstained hooves off her head and rose, stumbling around before nearly tripping over her weapon, which lay on the floor, intact safe for a yellowish, cooling gash running down the point of impact with the sword. She exhaled, puffing up the mask’s beak, and headed for the door the synaptic had been crawling towards. The mansion had become quieter, safe a ringing noise in the air and muffled voices down the direction she was heading in.

The unicorn cracked her neck and pushed the door open with a forehoof. She cantered down the empty corridor, leaving a trail of blood and scratches behind with the club. A tall figure looked down her as she turned a corner. Handsome stared at the raven griffon in a zipped-up dark purple leather jacket, almost squatting on his hind legs. The avian’s wings unfurled for a moment, flapping once to put him a few meters back. He lunged forward with his hand stretched out, crossing the distance before the mare started stepping away. The rapier in his talons glinted in the light spreading in from the display room as he thrust it forward.

Handsome only had enough time to bring up her forelegs, and she grunted, her flank pushing up against the wall as the rapier’s tip pierced the double layer of clothing on her left foreleg. She moaned as the metal bit into her flesh. The raven was unable to pull it out and follow up, being sent off balance by the thrashing mare, leading him to smash beak-first into a wall. The unicorn jerked her blood-soaked foreleg hard enough to disengage the metal tip, gasping and groaning into her mask.

Another attack was already half underway when the corridor was illuminated by her horn, and the griffon’s next thrust saw him impale himself on the club that had been raised vertically in his way. The avian’s fencing sword fizzled out in a green flash, and his whole body turned into a jagged synaptic mess even before the mare smashed the club against the wall, pushing his corpse off with the force of the impact.

Handsome made her way down to the hallway that cut into the corridor before leaning against the wall and banging her blood-dripping hoof against it. Her throat emitted a hoarse, bubbling chuckle. The only noise safe for her breathing was two male voices conversing down the hallway in a foreign language.

There was a bovine figure blocking the entrance to a blue-tiled chamber. It sat on its knees, massive arms grasping at its face, twitching and flashing sporadically. The minotaur changeling’s obese form bloated and sunk in, while the assortment of trinkets hanging on its neck flashed in and out of existence. A thin line of green drool poured out of its mouth, which emitted distorted, incoherent noises.

“Don’t you… mother… fuckers…” she moaned, stomping in that direction. “Have any MORE? I want… fucking… MORE!”

Handsome brought down her forehead against the changeling’s. A green stain came over the ones already splattered all over the mare's head. She stumbled back and spat into the mask. Her club whistled through the air and came down on the malformed minotaur body, ripping off half its snout, a horn and an arm. It fell over with a wet, sloshing sound, beginning to decompose under a layer of steam.

A stallion’s voice shouted from within the chamber before being cut short by a loud bang. Handsome stepped over the dissipating body and into the big pool area.

“Perdóname, hijo mío.”

On the other side, beyond the long pool, were two stallions. One was a dark yellow earth pony, whose unbuttoned purple suit was covered in blood, as was his short-cut black and blonde mane. There was a gilded crystalline revolver attached to one of his shaking forelegs. The other was a blonde magenta pegasus in a brown polo shirt. He lay on the floor, a quarter of his head scattered in chunks all over the pool chamber. The enchanted roof cast pink, purple, blue and yellow hues on the two of them. A large jacuzzi behind the dead stallion was stained red, a piece of brain matter floating in the water.

“It was almost his birthday,” the live stallion said in a weak, gravelly voice.

Handsome puffed her nostrils and began to stomp over to the earth pony. He remained in place, looking at her as she approached, limping slightly on her left foreleg.

“Do you ever wonder, the things that you do, what difference do they make? I knew this would never end well. But this was the right thing to do,” he spoke.

The unicorn growled, bringing the club down into the water and bringing heavy waves out onto the tiles.

“Everything happens for its own reasons. Whatever we do, the end is the same. You've never thought that, did you?” he asked, raising his voice.

She stomped closer yet and shook her head, growling.

"I've done so many horrible things. Nothing really matters anymore. But you’re just an animal, sweetie.”

Handsome screamed as he raised his foreleg, dashing forward and bringing her club along. She slipped on her own blood mixed with the water of the pool and fell inside. There was another loud bang, followed by a thud. The yellow stallion’s stubbled face stared at her with unmoving eyes once she climbed out of the bloodstained water. There was a hole at the top of his head, which went down to his chin.

The mare shuddered and rubbed her face through the mask, spitting and groaning as water leaked from inside it. She shook, spreading water from her wet clothes all around. Handsome's water-soaked beak pressed up against the dead Caballeron’s face.

“Dead enough, cuntface?” she hissed, her injured foreleg shaking under her weight. “Fucking spineless piece of shit. You think you're smart? You think you know something I don't? You think I care?!”

Handsome breathed heavily, making her way out of the pool area. She stopped by a large chunk of melting chitin laying on the torn-up hallway rug, and moaned as her bleeding left leg jerked after sending it tumbling away. The masked mare went into a coughing fit, eventually pulling off her mask, a stream of mixed spit, saliva, blood and water pouring trickling out. She placed the mask on the butt of her club.

Shaking her wet head and breathing deep, Handsome limped up the hallway to a wooden cabinet. She smashed the glass with her head and pulled out a bottle of transparent liquor, holding it with magic and tearing the cap off with her teeth. The unicorn pulled up the ripped sleeve of her postal uniform, then the pierced leather sleeve of her jacket, and chuckled as she poured the liquid over the wound. She growled and roared, downing the rest of the bottle in one go.

She rammed into a door to the side, entering the corpse-filled display room. Inhaling the air inside, the mare hacked a yellowish wad of spit, followed up by a few more heavy coughs to get rid of the sparkling ash particles left behind after the magical combustion. Stepping past the door, the mare nearly tripped over a hind leg. Gritting her teeth and mumbling incoherently, she focused her eyes and looked to where it was.

Staring back at her was a pair of unblinking yellow eyes beyond a burned pigeon’s head mask. It was attached to the body of a pegasus wearing a stained, charred postal uniform similar to her own. There was a charred, steaming, bent metal sword stuck in the pegasus’ chest. Handsome laughed hoarsely, turning around and giving one of the limp wings a kick, cracking the bone. A single curved knife fell out from a slot between the feathers.

The unicorn’s laugh grew louder, descending into half-cackling half-choking gargling peals. She regained her breath after a short coughing fit and turned around sharply. Her pierced snout pressed up against the pigeon’s charred peak.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STARING AT???” Handsome shouted. Her teeth bit into the mask and tore it off the postal pegasus.

It was an older mare with a light grey coat and fading blonde hair. Her mouth hung open, bleeding out one of the corners. The unicorn’s hoof pushed up against her neck, pinning the body to the wall. There was a big scar running through the upper part of her throat. Handsome’s bloodshot green eyes stared into the other mare’s motionless good eye.

“Got what you wanted, gloryhound?! Mine! They’re MINE! THIS IS MINE! FUCK YOU AND YOUR LUCKY BREAK!”

The mare tossed the corpse off to the side and spat on the floor. She trudged through the room, dragging the club behind her. She almost collapsed after tripping over a part of ruined floor tile in the room with the fountain. Burping loudly, the unicorn waded over to the fountain itself. She cursed unintelligibly and raised her head, gurgling up a wad of spittle. Handsome remained in that position for half a minute, her eyes squinting at the statue on top of the fountain. Eventually, she let out a loud, hacking reddish-yellow spit and walked away from the room with the dead minotaur, dismembered changelings and a statue of three of small ponies on top of the fountain.

“This is mine,” she mumbled to herself, exiting through a door that lead to the main foyer, stepping over the dead maid, and walking out into the open. Making her way down to where her motorcycle was located before the police sirens closed in, she clumped her clothes into a ball and stuffed them in her bag, fitting them to the side of her club’s spikeless end. Her hoof wriggled into the ball, eventually pushing up against the pendant in the jacket’s pocket that discharged the electricity around the vehicle.

Handsome laughed quietly, giving the vulture’s head a peck on the beak before hopping on the bike and starting it up.

May 29th, 1013 AN

Equestrian Transit

“Did you ever think about it?”

“Sorta. Kinda. I don’t think it matters. I mean… Shit went down. And I got to be in the thick of it. I did what I did, and it felt right to me. What do coulds or woulds mean anymore? The past is… the past. All of it.”

“That’s not what the others thought, though, was it?”

“Screw the others. I'm better off like this. I don’t want to know. You know how I joined in. Them? I saw that one. She gave me the creeps. Yeah, I really don’t want to know - fuck them all.”

Handsome pressed her cheek closer against the pillow. Her hind hoof tapped at the wall of the compartment to the rhythm of music playing faintly somewhere in the train. The sun cast its rays down onto her face. She put a hoof over her eyes, smearing a bit of eyeliner over her white coat.

“Maybe he was right? They were all going to die in the end, weren’t they?”

“Eh… there was no future for them, I guess. I just sped up the inevitable. Old things die out, new things come in. All of Carol City is old now. And me? I’ve got the moves. I’ve got the mojo. I’ll last all of this out! I’m strong. Like a… like a horse.” The mare rubbed her eyes, pulling at the lower lids, casting a little blood into the vessels from the pressure. With a grunt, the mare lifted herself and sat up, bumping her head against the humming wall. “You get me.”

“Looks like the future isn’t that different than the past, when you think about it.”

“After all that’s happened, I guess it sort of it. Sort of not. My past is null and void. It’s all gone… old. I've lived it out, too much of it. There is no place left for old things in this world. But I changed. I am new. And I’ll be staying around whether they like it or not. Maybe the future of the past isn’t the future I’m looking forward to.”

“That’s one way of looking at things.”

Handsome stretched, arching her back and moaning softly. She then shifted in place, laying on her side and propping her upper body up with a hoof. Her head shook as she saw the mess of ink on her flank. Sighing, the mare prodded at budding strings of pinkish hair emerging around on her tail extremity.

“Basically, I think all that’s happened is for the best. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. Tomorrow is a new day.”

“Should I get you some ice cream?”

“That’d be good.”

April 10th, 1013 AN - 9:50 PM

Carol City, Equestria

14th Sun Hearth

Handsome stepped into the alleyway, pulling away a dirty cloth that hung at the entrance. She yawned and belched at the same time, having to punch her throat to take in a new breath. Her leather jacket glistened in the light of a barrel fire, at least the parts that weren’t covered in dried up vomit. The unicorn threw her head back and took in a deep breath, before thrusting it down and spewing out a stream of yellowish-green bile.

She walked through the narrow space between apartment blocks, the large box bouncing on her back. Its lid was cracked and splintered, covered up in several layers of variously colored tape. The mare limped now and again, a thick bandage protruding from beneath her left sleeve. It fell off with a creaking thunk as she made an abrupt stop.

Handsome moved her lips silently, staring at the wall above the barrel fire. There was a piece of graffiti visible in its light. Two lines of equines faced one another on the picture, made in faintly glowing neon paint. Chitnous, black, malformed green-eyed insectoid changelings swarmed up on one side, clinging to one another, fanged maws and forked tongues open wide.

On the other side was a line of pony silhouettes, charging at the changelings. They were done in flat pink and gold, sparkling almost as hard as the four letters above the picture, which read ‘HOPE’. Each pony’s head ended with a beak.

She stepped in closer, her jaw dropping and her lips curving into a wide grin. Her hoof brushed against one of the ponies who stood out, being far ahead of them, in the middle of the graffiti - it was a beaked unicorn on a bike. Handsome laughed, sitting down on the box and covering her head with her hooves.

She didn’t stop laughing when a figure entered the alleyway, but she did stare at them, widening her grin and exposing more of her teeth.

“H-holy shit! What—” The pony gulped and cleared his throat, breathing rapidly. “W-what are you doing here? Who are you?”

Handsome’s borderline red eyes stared at the greasy-maned, thin, dirt brown earth pony stallion in tattered clothing. The bum looked back with his own eyes wide and his teeth clattering. He raised his foreleg and shut his eyes once she rose from the box, chuckling quieter now.

“Are you a roach?” she asked, slurring her words.

“N-no,” he replied. There was a thin trickle of red blood going from his nose and into his unkempt dark beard. Handsome shrugged and changed her wide grin to a thinner smile.

“You like the picture?”

“Y-yeah. It shines in the fire…”

“Wanna know who I am?” Handsome whispered. The bum scratched the back of his head.

She tumbled off the box and leapt over to the stallion, grabbing him by the shoulders and laughing as she dragged him over to the graffiti. Her wide green irises stared right into the bum’s shrunken blue ones. The unicorn lowered him to the ground and wrapped one hoof around his shoulder. She pointed at the figure on the bike.

“That’s who I am.”

“...”

“I am the Vulture.”

The stallion’s eyes went from Handsome to her depiction on the graffiti. He swallowed.

“I… I think I shouldn’t be here…”

The mare snickered and bashed her forehead against his, knocking him out and breaking his nose. She put the box back on her back and left the alley, turning for the entrance to the apartment building.

Chapter 3: Dead End

April 21st, 1013 AN - 3:49 PM

Carol City, Equestria

14th Sun Hearth

The table shuddered as Handsome slammed the box shut. She mushed her snout against the lid and sniffed in deep. Her hooves came down on it several more times before the mare emitted a low grumble and placed the box into a plastic bandolier. It and the other three boxes in the bandolier stayed shut as she banged them repetitively. Handsome exhaled and cracked her neck, getting off the couch.

The bandolier was thrown over into the kitchen, where a postmare’s uniform and bag lay on the table. It landed on top of the sticker and stripe-laden blunderbuss situated under the table, on top of a pile of pizza boxes. The mare eyed the inventory in the kitchen closely, mouthing to herself. She cantered over to the weapon and uniform. The clothes wrinkled as her hooves tested the uneven patches and stitches, some of them loosening threads under pressure.

Handsome sighed and bumped her head against the table, stopped from full collision by her horn tearing into one of the patches. Hacking and spitting on the bluish uniform, the mare knelt toward the gun.

The heavy iron contraption tumbled off the crushed pizza boxes, rolling into the mare. She jumped, colliding with the coldbox.

“Stupid piece of… fucking… Fuck!” she growled, letting out a hiss as the tube smashed into a wall. A picture fell onto the floor, its glass cracking. “Mothershitting bundle of CUNT.”

“Handsome? Uhm, did you—”

“No, fuck off!”

Handsome pulled the coldbox open, downing a can of fizzy liquor and burping. She stomped on the can before kicking it into the open window. A minute later, the gun was pointing its hole at the ceiling, pulled up by the unicorn’s green aura. She was groaning, reaching inside the gun with a forehoof, when the other unicorn slowly peeked into the kitchen.

“Is everything okay over here?” Page asked.

“I’m good.” Handsome scowled, staring at the crystal dust tangled in her dirty white coat. “You were leaving.”

“Today’s, um…”

“You were leaving,” Handsome repeated, turning over to her. “I’m doing something important. Don’t test me.”

“Yes, I know, it'd just be, it'd be really inconvenient if, well, if after... you know... paying off all our rent and getting all this new stuff... if it'd all—” Gulping and biting her lip, the other unicorn meddled with her glasses.

“I get it. Don’t pack my ammo when on joy. I put out the fire, you fucking nag. What now, do I make you sandwiches? Did you forget who got the money for all of what you just said?” Handsome levitated the gun into the air, spinning it in place. The other mare shuddered and wiped her brow. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m… a-already back. Don’t point that—” The grey mare backed away, smiling unevenly as the scarred unicorn glared at her with shrinking green eyes. She exhaled, going into quicker breaths, when the bigger mare lowered the gun. “It didn’t take that long. M-my new employer doesn’t… mince words very much. She, uhm. Had a slight… interest in you.”

Page just began to approach Handsome when she smashed the butt of the gun into the floor, ripping out a plank with the bladed end.

“She can eat shit! I’m not working security for some dumb cow. I’ve…” She breathed in deep, leaving the gun stuck in the floor and putting hooves against her temples. “I've known I had to do something like this for a long time. You know I have. This is my big break.”

“O-of course I do. I always… um… always knew you’d find your place, that’s—” the other mare spoke, stammering and drawing her eyes away. “That’s why I let you stay here for… four years... A-and now things are better, and I’m thankful for that.”

“You better be, you four-eyed shit, ‘cause these days, I own more of this place than you do.”

She cringed and wiped her temple, shifting in place.

“I understand that this… movement you joined, it’s rather powerful. The city is, um, a lot different now than it was before… You’re not the Tunnel Snakes or the other gangs.” Page rubbed her hooves against her dark grey suit, avoiding Handsome’s stare. “But, my employer understands that as well. It’s just that, well, look, you and your ponies are… changing things very rapidly. That tends to result in rather, ahhh, unstable events. Other… parties, so called, get involved. It’s not a very good idea to still be here when that happens.”

“Why do I give a fuck?” Handsome shrugged. “I belong in here, in this boiling vat of shit. I was meant for this. Don’t try to tell me you know better. You want me the fuck out of here anyway, so why don’t you sit down and go root for those chitin-cunts. Or do your cow’s numbers. I don’t care.”

“...h-how do I…” the grey unicorn whispered, turning around and chewing on her lips, eyes darting back and forth.

“You don’t. Get the fuck out. Make your own money to leave Carol Shitty. I’ve found my place here. It's all about to get good. I feel it.”

“Miss Lockvara has inside knowledge of things happening here right now. Things are getting all the uglier. You have unique skills, you don’t have to stay here, you could join us and move elsewhere. You wouldn’t be out of things to do in Equestria,” Page spoke within a single breath. She lifted her hooves and closed her eyes, shaking. “That’s, that’s all she wanted me to tell you. Just consider that, Handsome.”

The scarred mare walked up to her roommate and grabbed her by the shoulder, putting their snouts together. Her breath clouded the shining, crystal-encrusted glasses.

“...I’m better than ever,” she spoke slowly, in syllables, eyes wide open. “I want this to go right. I've waited for this shit my entire life. I know where this is going, and I'm loving it. I have places to be. Things to do. Go find your own.” Her eyes grew slightly bloodshot from remaining open for over a minute.

“It’s okay, I’m not snooping! Y-your logo is all over the streets, everyone talks about you, they’re—" Her glasses went askew as she shook, raising her hooves. "Just, just in case something, anything goes wrong and you decide to—"

"No justs. No cases. I know what I'm fucking doing! I'm the fucking Vulture, you ungrateful shit! Get out."

The grey mare didn’t reply, merely gulping. “Good. Fuck off.” Handsome pushed her away and into the corridor. She walked over to the kitchen windowsill and hunched over the letter spread out there, kept in place with dirty mugs.

Dear Handsome,

We wish to congratulate you on the enormous efforts you’ve put into restoring our little community. This town would never have been the same without you! You've put your whole being into this great work, and it's about to pay off.

The years of hardship took their toll on all of us, but ponies like you are proof that Equestria can, and will, come back stronger than ever. You are therefore cordially invited to our peace convention, situated at the Griffon-Equestrian Deposits Bank (55 Sugar Trail St.) Once there, proceed with your business as usual alongside the many friends and associates you’ve found here at Equestria Delivery. You and your co-contributors to peace in the Carol City community have conquered multiple opposing forces that set their sights at the ultimate prize.

At the end of the day, dear Handsome, remember: with our service, Equestria is a wholesome unity of wonderful individuals! Remember that those in your way can try to cooperate, but they will never be united like us. Go in and do what you do best, as you always have.

Things will never be the same after today. Change is coming.

The main event begins at 7 PM. We expect your arrival before 6:30 PM at the parking lot at 57 Sugar Trail. Look for your friends: Pigeon, Eagle, Seagull, Cormorant, Crow and Honeybird. Expect to meet other associates at the event!

Best wishes,
Red Stamp
Assistant Manager, EQUESTRIA DELIVERY SERVICE CLIENT SUPPORT

“Well let’s fucking see about that change, then,” Handsome mumbled under her breath.

She put on the uniform, pulled the gun out of the floor and into the bag, equipped the bandolier, picked up the keys and retreated into the living room. Over an hour later, shaking and mumbling to herself, Handsome tumbled out, forcing the mask into the bag with unsteady hooves. She grinned, smashing the door open with her head.

***

57 Sugar Trail - 6:36 PM

The bike came to a loud halt, leaving a trail of dust settling on the wet pavement. The chains hanging off the grip bar clattered against the frame as Handsome leaned, looking at the dark entrance to the tall building. She scowled, staring at the warning and safety signs preceding the entrance. After a few seconds of hesitation, she pushed her hind hoof into the accelerator, sending the bike into the parking lot. It nearly avoided smashing into carriages parked at the very entrance.

Narrowly entering a curve that lead to the next floor, the bike scratched a no motorcycles sign.

Handsome hit the brakes once a group of figures entered her line of sight, gathered near a postal delivery carriage van.

The large window just by the van had a full view of the front of the bank. The mare grunted, tearing her bag off the luggage rack. She looked out the window before rolling her eyes and stepping toward the group.

Handsome stopped, staring at three crystal guns - two identical repeaters and a short snubbed gun - that aimed at her, the repeaters floating in the air, while the gun was attached to a hoof.

“Pigeon?” a male voice asked camly.

“I’m fucking Vulture, you shitheads,” the mare replied.

Her eyes shifted to a pair of dismembered and hole-ridden jagged black carcasses, which were just barely visible in the shadows, their wounds faintly glowing.

“Sorry for the cold welcome, miss. You’re a little late,” a female voice with a foreign accent spoke up. The mare growled, neck twisting to find the source, looking through half a dozen various shapes in the dark, scarcely illuminated by the occasional flash of a broken lightbulb that was meant to be over their spot. “We’ve had a few curious cats come by. There are interested parties that'd want to know what we're up to. Can't have that.”

“Hey! You there!” a voice came from the group. One of them, a pegasus, trotted closer to Handsome, leaving the darkness.

“You piece of shit, I remember you.”

The unicorn moved her eyes at the green-maned pink pegasus, who pointed a hoof at her, gritting his teeth. Her jaw hung open for a moment, eyes losing focus. She scratched her head.

“Yeah, well, I don’t. Eat my dick.”

“This ASSHOLE stole my BIKE!” the pegasus screamed. Several of the other figures began to move closer. “And my mask, too! Drugged me or some shit and crashed my damn house! Get her out of here, or I swear she’s dead meat!”

The pegasus growled, shaking a hoof in the air. There were several kitchen cleavers attached to it, grey enough to almost blend into the postal uniform him and the others wore. There were five ponies there in total, emerging from the dark corner by the van.

One other figure was a long-beaked griffon with a curved neck. She was white, with blue highlights around her eyes, and wore a tight blue suit. She her talons on the stallion’s shoulder, pulling him back.

“Ponies are supposed to be friendly, not cutting allies up with knives. Please, keep the distinction in mind when you’re in.”

They glared at each other, and the griffon turned her head to Handsome. “Today is the big day. After this, it’s all downhill for you... in a good way. The breaking point, so to say,” the crane enunciated slowly, keeping her voice down.

A thin, subtle stiletto twirled between the talons of her other hand, which the pegasus’ eyes followed intently, as she happened to pass it right by his throat.

“So we can’t be ruining things by turning on each other. You ponies have had success ever since the start of this month, but we really do need to be discrete this time.” Her eyes turned to Handsome. “So it was you Skate helped recruit? Corvine told me.” She drawled out words with a slight accent, a curving smirk always at the side of her long beak.

“And then she fucked up my place, stole my package and jacked my FUCKING BIKE!” Skate stomped his hooves, some of his green bangs falling over his eyes despite the headband he wore. “That mask is supposed to be mine! This ugly bitch... I’m not going to work with her!”

“We can’t argue over rubber, guys,” another of the group said - a big brown unicorn, overgrown with a dirty blonde mane and facial hair. “Let’s put shit past us today. We’re really doing it today, right?”

“Rubber?! She took my BIKE-”

“Hey, screw you. I’m Vulture. Don’t you fucking try to get at me.” Handsome squinted at the burly stallion. “It’s not ‘just rubber’. What, you shitstains don’t even get to have masks, don’t know what it feels like?!”

“We do. I’m Honeybird.” The stallion pointed at himself. He spoke in a low, bassy, measured tone. Handsome frowned at him, hard enough for the wrinkles to be visible on her shaved-out eyebrows.

He continued. “This is Seagull.” The unicorn motioned at the pink pegasus, who puffed his nostrils and ground his teeth.

“That is Eagle.” He pointed at the stallion to his side, a buzz-cut dark orange earth pony with an uneven stubble and a burn mark around his right eye. There were metal chains and barbs tied around his forehooves.

“That is Cormorant.” The female pegasus was leaning against the van, long black hair covering up most of her face. She turned, raising her eyes for a brief moment before going back to looking at the ground..

"This is Crow. She’s not normally with us, she’s management, with the birds - I think you’ve met, too?” Another mare, a lemon earth pony with a daffodil yellow mane packed in a tight bun. She had been looking at Handsome the entire time, staying completely still.

“And this is Vulture.” The crane took over, letting go of Skate and stepping in front of the mare. Skate stormed off into a dark corner. “As for me… let’s call me Etta. Not a familiar beak, I know. After your last run, Corvine decided we needed you on this side a little more. My job is to have you briefed, get you through to a vulnerable point at just the right time to do the most damage. And keep you from killing each other, of course. We’ve made ourselves known, you see, but this time we’re going for much more of an… important strategic asset. Now please stop staring at me, Vulture.”

“This fucking stinks. I don’t give a shit about any of you.” Handsome sighed. Veins protruded through her tattoo-covered skin and coat. “I’m here to kill roaches, I have a big gun, and I don’t need any briefing.”

Etta shook her head. Honeybird paced back to Skate, who extended a wing to him and folded all the feathers but the main primary. Crow backpedaled towards the van doors, still keeping her eyes on Handsome. Cormorant got out a smokestick, which Eagle came over to share. Growling to herself, Handsome bent and zipped her bag open, pulling out the blunderbuss and lifting it over to her side.

The griffon stopped in the middle of trying to extend her arm to her. She raised an eyebrow, falling back on all fours.

“Look, Miss Vulture. Don’t you think it would be more convenient to do all this killing of yours if you had an idea of what’s to happen? Let me elaborate." Etta raised a hand and clicked her talons. Handsome's neck twitched. "In case my fashion taste isn’t enough to spell it out - I’m selling out the Majors.”

Etta’s beak tightened in a wider smile. Handsome stepped back, lips puckering, mouthing silently to herself.

“That’s the short of it. We take them down, and changelings don’t feel as safe robbing you poor pony folk, especially without access to their bank.” The mare tilted her head toward the crane as she gestured and enunciated throughout the explanation. “You see, they came here together with what’s left of our Caballeron friends to defend their rainy day supplies. An old little bird just happened to tell us that some particularly desperate out-of-town meat shields are going to go and try a heist on them today. You get the picture -there’s no better time to make an entrance and remove them from the map." Etta smiled and tilted her head. "Fill the bank with bodies.”

Handsome grabbed her temples and emitted a shrill screech, her cracked voice going through octaves.

“This is some sort of joke, right?! You all coming here to fucking lecture me? I’ll have you know, you’d be sitting on your asses right now if not for me!" she screamed. Her shouts were percussioned by the scrapes and thuds of her gun being bashed against the floor with sparkling magic. “Don’t you stare at me, do you think I’m dumb?! I know your whole clown show is a half-assed pile of garbage! I can fucking read, morons, I read the letter you sent that lazy fucker - if I listened to you, my gang would still be all over half this shitty town!”

“Yeah, your gang,” Eagle spoke up. He was loud enough to be audible over the noise. “I know you.”

“...oh, yeah?” Handsome’s voice cracked as she went from screaming to hissing. “Want me to blow you for that, genius?!” she raised her voice back up immediately, turning toward the stallion.

Etta shrugged and retreated. She pulled down a sleeve and looked at the glowing crystal watch underneath. Distant thunder echoed through the rainy street.

“You would come to my salon to get tattoos. I can’t believe you got even worse since then.” The stallion spoke through his teeth. “You’re a pretentious tantrum-throwing drama queen. If this is what we’re getting with you, then get lost.”

“Yeah?..” the mare whispered, her eyes shrinking. She walked closer to the stallion. “That salon where you’d paint roaches for half price, yeah? Look who’s talking.”

“It’s called a racket. Why do you think I’m here?” Eagle replied, looking her in the eyes. “They ruined everything. I had to fight back. What about you, lady? Not feeling different enough from all your trashbag friends?”

The unicorn’s pupils shrunk and her ears bent back. She breathed heavily through her nostrils, biting deep into her lower lip, gilded teeth scraping against one of her piercings.

Eagle looked down at her, Honeybird was wiping a complex crystalline repeater, Cormorant was shoving a smokestick into her mouth through the thick cover of hair shielding her face, Skate was doing wing-ups, his teeth bared and eyes filling with red.

“You all think you’re hot shit, huh. What, you think you’re heroes? You think you know how this works? Look at you, standing here, listening to this dumb shitbeak! Why don’t you draw on a fucking floor map, huh?!” Handsome stomped her hooves in place before ripping the zipper on her bag open with her teeth and pulling out her mask. “Leave this shit to me - I can do this alone!”

Crow slowly blinked and quietly spoke up.

“We know you’ve done a lot. It feels great, yeah? Killing bugs, strangling them, beating their heads in. Ripping their eyes out. Listening to them scream, seeing them die in agony.” The yellow mare licked her lips. “But you don’t just get to do that willy-nilly. Corvine tells me, and I agree - things are so much different now. Just this once, all of us have to come together and be as one.”

“I AM the one. Go and piss your pants at home, I don’t WANT any of you stealing MY kills, anyway!" She banged her gun against the floor. "This fucker can’t get up to get his mail, this hairy asshole is fat as balls, this bastard thinks he’s cool mouthing off to me, this cuntrag can’t even be assed to talk to me, and you’re dumb as shit if you’re for real right now!” Handsome pointed her hoof at each of the other postal ponies in succession, spittle landing all over the parking lot as her voice kept cracking and raising. “And now I have to listen to some long-necked bitch that’s been working with those roaches for fuck knows how long?! This is bullshit!”

“Corvine also said you weren’t alone for when you killed the Caballerons,” Crow said. By then, she had leaned in close enough for her deep breaths to brush against Handsome’s scarred, tattooed face. Handsome scowled.

“Vulture… Handsome, sweetie…” Etta stopped, rubbing her forehead with a free hand while still playing with her stiletto in the other. “You need to understand, your partner wasn’t what you would call an average pony. She was no worse than you are. So please, shut up, put up and stop making a scene.”

“Or go and get fucking killed, you dumb bitch. I’ll beat the shit out of the pig that told me recruiting you was a good idea!” Skate shouted from the back. “You'll wish you never woke up!”

“You’re of no use to the cause when you die. I know you know that.” Crow’s lips slowly went into a smile as she nodded.

“We’re all going to be fine, guys. Just calm down. Once this is over, we’ll all get pizza,” Honeybird said. He was peeking into the van, inside which were everyone else’s bags but Handsome’s.

“Yeah… It’s gonna be fine.” Handsome sighed and put on her mask. She breathed in deep, her eyes closed. A low growl rose from within her chest as her body twitched. “It’s like you’re asking me to kill you.”

Crow fell down on the floor - her nose was shattered when the unicorn’s head collided with hers. Eagle’s ribs cracked open as the levitated gun lashed out from the mare, slicing through his chest with the blade. The darkness lit up as the gun fired off a shot of hot crystal, which dug deep into Honeybird’s body, leaving it full of glowing holes. Another blast left smoking holes in the wall, some shards sinking into Skate as he raised his throwing hoof, knocking the pegasus down on the floor. Cormorant’s cigarette dropped as the mare rolled and dove into Handsome, her face crashing into the hot metal tube instead.

Still screaming, the mare emptied the rest of the crystal charge inside her gun firing wildly at figures in the smoke that rose from the smoldering bodies. One of the shots ended up leaving behind a blurred shape of a griffon, leaping backwards from the shards. The mare’s gun flew into it, tumbling it onto the floor. As the gun dove down blade-first, it skewered the figure. Impaled, Etta coughed up blood, losing her stiletto while her body was being dragged along the floor, leaving behind a dark red trail littered with shreds of fabric. Handsome’s eyes twitched, growing bloodshot beneath the vulture’s mask.

Once the guttural screams had gone hoarse, the blood-covered mare tore the blunderbuss out of the dismembered avian, knocked the lid off one of the boxes in her bandolier, shoved the contents into the gun and stormed towards the window. Her wheezing, croaking screeching bubbled up with a laugh as she landed into bushes wet with rain. Lightning flashed, casting the two-story bank building in plain white light, albeit lit with a shade of green coursing through the walls.

Dripping blood and scraping against the pavement with the blade of the gun, Handsome galloped towards the gunfire and explosions coming out of the bank.

Griffon-Equestrian Deposits Bank - 7:12 PM

The stained glass window shattered, letting through a hail of crystal shot, followed by a tumbling unicorn wearing a postal uniform. Her body bounced off a couch, smearing it with blood. She landed on top of a liquefying black carcass sporting a bank teller’s uniform, steaming from the synapse that leaked out of the gaping hole that took up most of the changeling’s face. Having leaped onto her hooves, the mare stopped to lean in and squash the rest of the face. The sound of gunfire present in the deeper parts of the bank now picked up in the foyer, with armed guards opening fire.

Various projectiles penetrated the cushions of the couch behind her. The mare slipped off to the side, trampling over dead carcasses in white and blue suits. Her weapon dragged along, firing off shot after shot before running dry. By then, Handsome leaped from behind the column of info screens that absorbed the last of the volley. She hacked and growled, rushing forward, hooves stomping through pools of blood and puddles of synapse.

She ran straight into one of the thugs, toppling him onto the floor with her weight. He tried and failed to fight back using the steel mace harnessed onto his foreleg - Handsome’s blunderbuss caught up to her, its blade dragging across the floor. It sliced the armed foreleg clean off. She smashed her own forehooves against his head, covering it in blood and cracking the thick sunglasses, until his skull quickly gave way. The blood from her hooves mixed in with the green liquid pouring out of the gaping wounds, the body turning black and jagged by when she moved on.

Having fallen back to each side of the foyer respectively, two more thugs knelt by the help desks, hastily shoving crystal munitions into their long rifles. One of them just finished by the time Handsome approached, only to watch the hot metal barrel crash through the desk, smashing into his forehooves. The rifle smacked him on his snout as it fired into the ceiling. He screamed as the mare grabbed him by the shoulders, pushed him down on his broken legs, and launched his body across the slick tiles with a buck.

The other stallion jumped out of the way of his crippled partner, but by when he returned to a firing position, Handsome was already in his face. He swore in a foreign language and maneuvered to kick, only to reel back when the mare rammed straight into him. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as the unicorn’s horn gored through the thug’s throat. His body fell on top of several civilian changeling carcasses nearby, lying in a heap underneath advertisement posters on the wall.

Handsome breathed heavily, even her mask now mostly red. As intermittent gunfire and shouting erupted from the inner wings of the bank, she darted from one body to another, growling and whining gutturally.

There was at least a dozen corpses in Majors uniforms, most peppered with gunfire, some with their heads caved in. More than half were changelings, among them several jagged, black avian bodies with elongated, sharp crane heads. Regular ponies and changelings lay in piles along the sides, hooves bound, their throats slit. Three additional corpses were from the same gang as the ones recently killed - all of them shredded to pieces and cooking with the hot crystals still burning through their bodies. Two were drones, the third was a real pony.

There were two doors on opposing sides of the ruined foyer, sounds of fighting coming from each direction. The masked mare stomped on a nearby corpse, her eyes wide at all the bodies that had accumulated her arrival. She hacked and emitted a shrill screech, bashing the barrel of her gun against the tellers’ windows. A loud alarm went off, making her scream again. She grit her teeth and emptied the rest of her gun’s ammunition at the ceiling, the walls, the windows, and the corpses. One of her shots blasted open the doors to the right, and, flexing her shoulders, Handsome stormed through it.

Beyond the doorway was a destroyed service hall, filled with burned desks and smashed videodromes. The floor was littered with leaflets, munitions casings, limbs and fragments of the ceiling. She shoved a boxful of crystal shot into her gun and cracked her neck before stepping into the singed remains of a gangster in what used to be a pink palmtree shirt.

A large bovine figure stumbled from behind a videodrome column.

The towering, bearded minotaur, armed with a handgun the size of the mare’s own blunderbuss, limped towards her, raising the gun. Another such handgun lay on the floor nearby, along with the remains of an arm, penetrated by a fencing sword - both the arm and the sword exuded green vapor. Handsome charged on, speeding just past a massive bullet he’d fired, and unloaded a volley in his direction. By when the smoke cleared, she was behind the column, chopping into the black carcass of the bovine changeling.

A loud electric crackle erupted nearby, causing her to duck behind the column. She fired in that direction, screaming and shaking her head as the sharp sound of lightning rang through the hall. Something popped, blowing several bank leaflets her way with a strong gust of wind. Handsome leaped out, pointing the gun at the source of the sound and wind, where there was only a melting table and burned corpses. There was another pop right as she took a step towards it, blowing her forward with another gust. The unicorn grunted, bending over and stumbling, falling on her side. Clanking, uneven steps approached her, and she launched herself off the ground in their direction, flailing her hooves and roaring.

She landed into a long-beaked griffon, knocking him off his hind legs. Handsome glared at the scarred beak and half-plumaged head for a moment before bringing her forehooves down on it, crushing through a cheekbone and squishing into an eye socket. The old griffon began to turn to changeling form, steaming and sizzling. Having gotten up, Handsome groaned and swore after stepping onto the dissolving walking cane he’d dropped, before being sent tumbling forward when it let out a final burst of electricity.

She took deep breaths before screaming out, emptying her blunderbuss in all directions, leaving burn marks in the desks, couches, walls and corpses. The electrocuted bodies of Majors guards smoked as the crystal burned through their flesh and chitin.

Once her screaming turned to coughing, Handsome moved on to the end of the room, cracking her neck. The gun dragged behind, slicing through a changeling corpse, while one of the boxes in her bandolier detached itself and floated in the air. She groaned and sputtered, having to stop and kick away a large, badly burned body that lay behind the makeshift barricade and itself blocked the door. The mare hissed once its front came into view, relatively unburned - the earth pony wore a postal outfit, and his face was obscured by a heavily damaged penguin mask. Her hind hoof mashed it into paste, after which she pulverized the corpse uncovered from beneath the dead masked killer as well. Handsome huffed loudly as her hoof tore through the tough white fabric of the dead unicorn's suit, hollowing out his chest, splattering his singed blue coat and blonde mane with blood. Her hoof left a large hole in the place of one of his eyes.

Exhaling and grinning with a twitching mouth, she busted through the doors. A circle of green flame began to grow underneath her as soon as she made her way in, raising upwards moments after the masked unicorn ran over it. It came into effect moments after she had passed, rising where her tail would have been if she had one.

The synaptic that was first saw her threw himself out of the way, leaving the one behind him to take her weight head on. Handsome smashed straight into a massive, thick-legged, wide-snouted changeling, smearing his black vest with blood. The synaptic took a step back and retorted by headbutting Handsome back, sending her stumbling backwards, her horn shutting off. She fell on top of a burned corpse covered in dragon tattoos, breaking the dead pony’s sunglasses. Her weapon and ammo clanged against the floor tiles.

The large synaptic cracked his neck and blew his short, weed-like mane out of his eye, stepping over to the mare, followed by two other black-vested changelings. Another, a taller, thinner, shiftier synaptic, hung back. When the big one turned to face Handsome, he darted toward the stairway to the second floor with a shout. The other three turned around, only to face a hail of hot crystal shot bursting out of the singed ammo box. The mare groaned and cursed, shifting underneath the large synaptic’s weight, his body being burned through by dozens of small shards.

She got up, shaking her head and stumbling around the shredded changelings. Holding onto the stairway railing, Handsome made her way to where her weapon had been tossed by the explosion. The slightly bent barrel of the blunderbuss returned to the air, and was immediately brought down on the big synaptic’s head multiple times while it was still smoldering. The partly molten blade chopped his head off, while the smoking, dented tube bashed the synapse out of the skull.

The second to last box on her bandolier emptied its contents into the gun before being discarded into the open doors that lead to the other service hall. It landed into the bloated, dissipating gut of a bovine changeling that lay on top of a pile of corpses in pink. The mare stomped in place, sweat, blood and saliva dripping from below the mask. They were followed by incoherent, shrill cries.

She gripped her temples before bashing head first into a metal plaque on the section of the wall between the two stairways leading up. There was a sharp humming sound coming from behind the plaque, getting louder each time her head left a patch of blood and synapse on its surface.

The wall began to tremble as the mare continued. The image of an equine and an avian standing at each side of a globe, engraved atop the plaque, filled up with green veins and took on a blur. Handsome stared, jaw hanging off, mouth filling up with blood and sweat. Her eyes went from wide and unfocused to pinpricks, darting upwards, at a figure that came into sight.

Another pony in a postal uniform stood on the stairway - a seagull.

“...” she took in a breath, her pupils shrinking. “YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD!”

Handsome’s gun locked on to his figure and fired off a volley of crystal, missing the competing killer as he vaulted upwards and disappeared to the floor above. There was a crackling of flame came from followed by loud, echoing, distorted screams. The mare straightened out, her head shooting upwards.

The wooden steps cracked and splintered under the masked killer’s galloping hooves. She left blood and synapse stains on the walls and railings, flying into them by inertia, scampering to get to the second floor. The office space with walled off sections of cubicles and lounges sectioned off by glass was filled with sounds of fighting, fire, smoke and dead bodies. Flying into the opening and tumbling over a burning potted palm tree, Handsome immediately fired a volley down the corridor.

All of the pellets landed into the body of a tall, bluish minotaur in a white suit. He bent over, covering the scorching wounds with his large arms. His deep bellow was cut short by a metal pipe smashing into his head, having been thrown from the side. Handsome stumbled, eyes rolling, foam and saliva dripping down her neck. She rushed back up, stomping a foreleg against the floor, and ran onward through the smoke-filled offices.

A raven-headed griffon came sliding out of a cubicle, hitting his back against the wall and failing to reach his sword. The mare growled hoarsely at the griffon, her head twitching. The barrel of her gun smashed his head in, leaving the corpse to contort and phase into black carapace. Handsome hacked and spat into her mask, laughing incoherently while nearly slipping on the trail of synapse left by the changeling. Without the mare looking, the gun was levitated into the opening of the cubicle and fired, resulting in a distant holler and a loud crash of office furniture.

The path ahead lead through two separate crossroads, each of them sporting multiple corpses - dismembered, burned, contorted and mutilated bodies wearing Majors clothes, with occasional Caballeros. Handsome darted around, navigating the maze of cubicles, jumping over bodies and heading in the direction of gunfire and screaming. More and more smoke filled the spaces between identical looking orange and pink-striped cubicle walls, blurring the bodies strewn about and overcoming the smell of dead flesh and sizzling synapse. Handsome swung her forehooves and rammed her head at blurred shadows, swaying her head to the sounds of nearby fighting.

The blunderbuss followed her with some delay, shuddering in the air as the unicorn’s horn flickered whenever she coughed, running into more and more smoke. At halfway down the path, it collided with thin air, sending a long-necked avian figure stumbling onto the floor as it lost its invisibility in a green flash. It convulsed, phasing in and out of the image of the dead crane. Handsome stomped through its long neck until her hooves began to crack the floor tiles beneath.

A bright wall of flame lit up the far end of the offices, causing the mare to cease her stomping. A rooster-headed earth pony ran out, speeding by the infographic whiteboards set on fire by the spell. Handsome screeched, bashed her gun against the floor, and kicked her forehooves in the air, rushing onwards. There was an explosion of sparks just barely in view.

She lost balance and had to lean against a dead bovine changeling’s body. At that point, the seagull - a pegasus with bright pink wings - ran out from the other side. Handsome’s grip on the changeling tightened enough for her to crack the rigid, jagged carapace with her hoof. The peagsus skidded to a halt, turning over to her, breathing heavily.

“Hey, what the fuck? I’m on your side!” he shouted, wheezing.

“You’re dead...” Handsome growled.

“Oh come on, you weren’t there - I’m fine! Go lead the way, I’ll cover you.” He raised a synapse-soaked cleaver attached to the side of his foreleg.

“I killed you.” She breathed, gurgling, and ran a hoof across her throat.

With a single leap, she closed the distance between her and Seagull, smashing into the railing separating the second floor from the foyer below. The sheet of glass cracked and collapsed, showering both sides with its shards. The masked mare’s body contorted, horn firing off sparks all around her. She howled and cackled, locking her eyes onto the pegasus.

He turned around and glanced back, swearing loudly and flinging his forehoof, a small cleaver passing by the rampaging masked mare. A blast of crystal shot went his way, which he avoided by vaulting to the side, entering a cubicle. He was followed, Handsome galloping inside and nearly tumbling over the furniture littering the floor. She smashed through a thin wall, broke through a table, bucked chairs into the next hallway and stepped right over cups and picture frames, while Seagull sped past the obstacles and into the hallway.

“STAY! FUCKING! DEAD!” Handsome’s roar echoed through the burning corridors.

Her gun fired repeatedly, sending bursts of hot crystal in the rough direction of the fleeing pegasus. He zig-zagged, throwing himself from one side of the corridor to the other, ending up in the dead zone of each shot. One last blast went up into the skylights as the mare slipped on a trail of blood, sliding down the corridor on her side. Seagull twisted around, raising his cleaver-equipped hoof, only to bolt through another cubicle when Handsome’s blunderbuss was already throwing itself at him.

The masked mare rose, growling, and began to bash the cubicle’s wall in when lightning flashed, followed by thunder filling in the entire floor. The thin wall crumbled on its own, falling back on top of her, sharp shards of glass dropping into it. A loud gust of wind entered through the collapsed skylights, followed by an amplified voice that was lost in the thunder. Handsome bucked the door off and stared at an earth pony in a blue suit of armor, who was pulling his legs out of the holes they’d cracked through the tiles where the cubicle used to stand.

The unicorn punched her horn, having it flash back on, and raised her gun, having it puff out crystal dust at the armored trooper. Before he could put up his electrified shield, she’d tackled him from below and stabbed at his throat with the blade of her gun. It crushed through a crack between armor plates, and emerged back out dripping with blood. Handsome stumbled off the corpse and spent a moment covering her ears as more armored ponies dropped down from the skylights.

She rushed through the ruined offices, more troopers descending behind her. She had pulled out one last box from her bandolier and banged it open against a still intact wall, but it dropped down on the floor when her head bumped against another tall shield.

Reeling back and growling over shouts coming from multiple sides, Handsome flailed her gun around, bashing hard enough against the wood and metal of a shield to cause a wet crack. The scream of pain that followed was cut short once the gun flung back, toppling the shieldbearer over. Another pony standing by their side stumbled from the impact, and she charged at them with the blade end of her gun, putting it through their skull.

The mare coughed and knocked on her temples, standing still for a moment by the corpses of two postal ponies, both wearing identical duck masks with numerals on them. She backpedaled at a brisk pace, pulled the box of crystal shot from underneath the shieldbearing earth pony’s corpse and shoved its contents down the barrel of her gun.

The corpses cased over with ice as a wave of frost shot over them, but Handsome was already off to the side, cantering after Seagull, who just turned a corner into the rest lounge to the side of the offices.

The rug that ran down the lounge was wet with blood, synapse and water from the destroyed water coolers, torn up with shards from the glass that used to separate it from the working area. Handsome stumbled forward as it contorted underneath her hooves, sending her beak-first into the cracked chitin plates of a bovine changeling. His body lay on its back, its limbs splayed, the large belly and chest pierced and holed up. The chitin had already begun to soften up and turn to synaptic mush, leaving the mare covered in green goo as she climbed over him and ran ahead. Seagull ran up to a railing at the end of the lounge, staring back at her, and, after tossing several cleavers her way, floated down on his wings.

None of them hit her, one being knocked out of the air by a telekinetic blast from a unicorn trooper who ran ahead of the chase on Handsome’s trail. Her gun turned around, firing blindly at the armored ponies, forcing them to pause. The electrified shields resisted the burning crystals, humming loudly. Gas-masked unicorns with glowing oculi peeked through the openings of the shields, sending flaming, freezing and kinetic blasts her way. The magic mutilated the bodies of changelings and ponies on the floor, but the railing had already been smashed down by Handsome as she leaped straight down.

There was a bright green flash, followed by a wave of blurry, hot air rushing through the building. Handsome was halfway up, wobbling in place on half-bent legs, leaning on her gun, before losing balance and falling down. She scampered back as green veins emerged on every surface around her - the entire interior of the bank was covered in green veins, and green vapor emerged from the bodies of dead changelings.

Right in front of the entrance, Seagull collapsed, grabbing his temple and screaming out. His body distorted, fizzling and flashing. The postal uniform, pink wings and seagull mask became a pale pink coat, messy blonde hair and a horn, then the jagged, black limbs of a changeling, thinner and sharper than other ones strewn about him.

“THINK YOU CAN FUCK WITH ME?!” the masked mare growled, jumping back on her hooves and swiveling in place. “THINK I’M-” She stopped to cough, punching her chest, while the changeling shifted through more forms - yellow, orange, white coats, different limbs, blurring in and out. “THINK I’M SCARED?! Fucking BUG.”

The changeling stabilized himself, only to duck down and slide to the side when burning crystals shredded the door just behind where he stood a moment ago. He hacked up green slime and looked at the masked mare closing in on him, then the door, before rolling further down the side, avoiding another blast. Taking up Seagull’s appearance again, he spun in place, keeping balance with the wings, and threw a cleaver at the mare, boosting himself forward with a flap before it made impact. It clanged against the blunderbuss’ own blade, smacking the mare on the snout as it bounced off.

The changeling reached the service hall door on the left, barreling through it with his shoulder. It closed back hard, knocking up glass shards littered in front of it, only to get knocked off its hinges as Handsome rammed into it. The clattering noise of his chitinous hooves was overpowered by the mare’s gallop, even as she fell behind, slowed down by rubble and furniture. Any chairs or tables along the way that remained standing were being knocked down by the changeling and thrown in the way, causing the mare to jump over them or swerve to the side, with the changeling maintaining distance.

Handsome cantered on, sucking the rubber of her mask in with each heavy heave, the gun dragging behind her, bumping and slicing into dead bodies, some burned to a crisp, some filled with bullet holes, some with their heads bashed into the floor.

Another shot scattered its load all over the wall, burning through a credit plan poster on the wall. The changeling rolled past a sharp corner, leaping over a makeshift barricade of two chairs and a round table. Handsome smashed it with an upswing of her gun, slicing off the horn of a white unicorn in a blue suit, whose body was collapsed against the other end. It came in the way of her legs, sending her snout-down on the floor, pushing the mask into the ornate crystal pistol by the dead Major's body. Her horn sparked on and off, activating the trigger of her gun, pellets scorching into the door that the changeling had just closed. Handsome wheezed and screamed out, lighting her horn back up.

The door fell into pieces of burning plastic and metal, bashed in with the tube of the blunderbuss, while the unicorn remained a few steps behind, closing in with a slight limp. The changeling was in the middle to the room, mumbling under his breath and bashing a nearby corpse with his hoof.

He bolted to his side as Handsome’s gun fired. Stomping after him, the mare ran through a dark chasm where the plaque used to be. The green veins were spreading from there, slowly growing dimmer. As soon as the tunnel they entered made a turn, they were left the only source of light. The synaptic’s hoofsteps ringing against the smooth surface below sounded out ahead of the mare.

At another turn, the mare slipped off her hooves, landing on her back and continuing to slide downwards for a few seconds before picking herself up again. The changeling’s voice sounded out from ahead, causing the mare to shriek, her voice going silent for a moment. The echo of her shout outlasted the changeling’s screaming, and the last of them was covered up when her gun fired the moment his shape came into the masked mare’s vision.

The lanky synaptic fell on top of an armored corpse, one of many that littered the floor of the entire bank vault, illuminated by unstable crystal lamps hanging off the low ceiling.

He yelled loudly, with an echo that sounded off far into the vault tunnel. Handsome neared him, huffing and growling, navigating past the dead troopers. Kicking away a discarded tower shield, she turned him over onto his back. He writhed, coughing up liquid synapse and flailing his sharp forehooves at her.

“That’s it, shitbug,” she whispered hoarsely, pushing the barrel of the gun into the changeling’s thin, skeletal face. “Can’t run when you’re DEAD.”

“They… they can’t… aaahhh, crap..” the synaptic muttered, banging his hooves against the floor, crystals burning through his body. “You’re so fucked, you dumb, stupid animal…”

“You’re a roach. I’m not afraid of you.” They locked eyes for a couple of seconds, Handsome’s bloodshot irises and shrunken pupils vibrating in their sockets. The changeling closed his eyes and bit his lip with a fang, moaning and heaving. The mare cackled and ripped the stained vulture mask off her face, leaving it attached to a hoof. She breathed in deep and coughed, hard enough to spill a bit of vomit on the changeling’s body.

“Y-you got… no clue… not a fucking clue, none of you… You’ll…” The changeling gulped and hissed, his lips curving into a smirk. “You’ll wish… You’ll wish one of those assholes gutted you. Should have ran…” He began to chuckle, green goo bubbling at his mouth, his snake-like eyes watering. “Should have… should have ran…”

“Got nowhere to go, cheeseleg. Nowhere. You’re all FUCKED,” Handsome uttered quietly, voice cracking.

The changeling’s form fizzled in and out of different appearances again. Tear streaks showed on his cheeks whenever a pony visage flashed in for a fraction of a second. “Should have ran… s-should have fucking ran, fuckI’msosorry-”

Handsome tumbled backward from the recoil of the blunderbuss, landing on a nearby corpse. The synaptic’s head was left a smoldering mush.

There was no more noise, save for the rugged breathing of the masked unicorn. She lay among the bodies for a moment, before getting up.

Most bodies in the vault were blasted apart, limbs and sizable chunks of flesh missing. There was little space on the floor - it was taken up by shieldbearer earth ponies in dark blue armor and riot helmets, a few mage unicorns in thinner rubber suits and gas masks, pegasi fighters in stitched jackets and balaclavas, as well as all medical troopers in white gear and crystal helmets that obscured any markings. Their limbs splayed out, some of their accessories detached and carried off into other bodies or the wall.

One figure stood out - a large bearded buffalo minotaur in a silver ornamented suit. His eye sockets were empty, blood and mucus covering the dragon tattoos on his bare, wound-ridden chest. The massive handguns clenched in his fists still smoked. Troopers closest to him were missing entire thirds of their bodies. Closer to the entrance, a small number of gangsters in similar silver apparel lay dead, crushed and burned.

There were also two ponies in postal uniforms. One slumped against a battered safe, the rooster mask on his head pointing down. Near him lay two unicorn troopers with cracked oculi, splattered with blood form the inside, and a pegasus trooper with an unnaturally bent neck. The other was closer to the far end of the vault, burned and disfigured, to the point where only fragments of a bird mask remained. A green eye hanging by its nerve, as well as a patch of thick red mane left among the charred meat of his head.

Handsome raised her head and looked at the busted safes, nearly empty of cash and gold. The green veins that had spread all around faded in their entirety, up to the spot at the very end of the vault, where a black patch had been burnt into the floor.

The body of a long-haired synaptic with a scarred face lay there, still mostly intact. His horn oozed green vapor and smoke, having been covered in the same veins. Patches of chitin that formed his lips were burned off, also vaporized were his eyes. The veins that started at his horn reocurred at his limbs, pulsating as his hooves twitched.

Above him, on the wall, hung a wall-wide replica of the engraving with a pony and griffon figures surrounding a globe with three foals on top of it. Handsome coughed and blinked, shaking her head and covering her eyes with the hoof her mask was placed on. She tilted her head and lowered the hoof, squinting at the mural.

Hoofsteps and deep, throaty huffs echoed down the tunnel, causing the mare to jolt and scamper back on her hooves, levitating the gun in front of herself. Her mask dropped down, hanging off a dead unicorn’s horn. She umped over to it, placing one of her legs in front of the bloodstained, torn rubber vulture head. A griffon and a pony emerged in the blinking lights of the lamps.

The raven’s beak opened wide and he grabbed his head, letting out a quiet groan and shutting his eyes. Next to him was a mare - a lemon yellow earth pony in a postal uniform, her face covered in blood and her nose broken to the bone. Her eyes slowly passed over the scene. Huffing and gasping, the earth pony turned to the griffon, who shook his head back at her.

Vulture stared at the mare, pointing at her with the blunderbuss.

“...think this is funny?” she whispered.

“What happened here, Handsome?” the griffon asked.

“Vulture happened,” the unicorn replied, baring her teeth and nodding slowly. “You blind? What you asking me for?”

“You’ve… compromised your trustworthiness.” Crow spat blood, wincing.

Handsome glared back, her teeth clenched. A string of drool poured from the side of her mouth, where a tooth was missing. She took quick breaths, rubbing the bloodstained mask against her grey uniform.

“We know what happened back at the parking lot, Handsome.” The griffon put a hand on the pommel of his sword. “That was not the plan.”

“I know,” Handsome muttered. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head, and looked around, hooves stepping in place. "That creepy bitch should be dead."

“Can you tell me how you got here?”

“No, no, fuck off. I’m not playing this shit.” The unicorn lifted her gun back into the air. Crow lifted her armed foreleg, taking a step back. “I don’t care what happened here, okay? Who the fuck are you to question me? You send me out here to kill these shitstains, and that’s what I did! Nothing more, nothing motherfucking less!”

“Handsome… Vulture,” Crow said, while the griffon scratched his temple and scowled. “Why do you do all this? What is your goal here? Can we rely on you?” The yellow mare sucked in some blood dripping from her broken snout and gulped it down. “Because after today, it doesn’t seem like you quite understand us.”

“You a sink or something? Fuck off.” Handsome stomped her hoof, denting an armor plate of a nearby trooper. “Let me go, or I’ll let myself go.”

“I was a secretary before all this. I organized papers, I called ponies, I served coffee. I don’t do any of that anymore. All of that is gone now.” The earth mare’s monotone echoed through the vault. The griffon kept his eyes on Handsome’s gun while he walked around examining corpses. “All of us lost something. We can never be what we were, unless Equestria is back to how it was. This is why we formed Equestria Delivery. Do you understand that, Vulture? Are we on the same page?”

“Want me to break the rest of your face?” The unicorn growled. Her horn sparked, the gun wobbling in the air for a moment. Crow didn’t move.

“We all had our reasons, Vulture. Eagle was a tattoo artist. Honeybird worked at a restaurant. Cormorant played hoofball. Skate did stunts. But we are none of that anymore. Our Equestria has been taken away, bit by little bit, and we were too hurt to notice." Blood filled Crow's mouth, which the mare did not appear to notice. "This is all we could be - this was the only thing to become. Our marks are meaningless now. All there is, is the call to our old freedoms.” Crow’s eyes closed, eyelids coming down unevenly, one after the other, while her eyeballs shook in place. She breathed faster. “So why did you do what you did? You were lost too, weren’t you?”

“I should have stomped your slow-ass brain right in.”

“I think I know why you did this. You’re not lost. You’re not one of us. Not anymore. You are gone. You have no purpose.” The mare’s eyes remained shut. The trigger pull by the elbow of her forehoof tensed up. “Equestria Delivery does. That is our new special talent. Yours is not special. You are not—”

Crow quietly gasped and hacked. The tip of a rapier emerged from her throat. There was a wet crack as a clawed hand grabbed her armed foreleg and snapped it back, removing the pistol on the fly.

“You’ve heard and seen a lot, Handsome. Too much, maybe.” The raven threw the dead mare aside and pulled his sword from her body. “And not for the first time. However… you’ve proven reliably destructive. Unlike Crow here, you aren’t inevitably going to turn into a problem unless you decide to.” He got on his legs and stretched out his hand, the sword still pointing to her. “We can avoid that decision being made. You're our only survivor. You can have all that they were meant to have. Including the motorcycle I helped Mister Seagull procure, as thanks for his recruiting efforts. In exchange, you never, ever speak - or think - about what happened here today. Is it a deal? It isn't like you like doing much of one or the other. There'll be more work to do... now that you culled our ranks.”

Handsome whined, covering her head with her hooves and dropping momentarily onto the floor. She began to smash her hooves against the nearby bodies. The raven stayed over the body of Crow, sighing and wiping his claws against the dead mare’s uniform.

He cried out briefly when the blade cut his hand off, his talons sinking reflectively into Crow's corpse. Moments later, the unicorn's gun smashed into his face, pulverizing his skull. The dented barrel fell back on the floor, clanging loudly over the sounds of Handsome’s sputtering laughter, which got muffled as she put the vulture mask back on. The mare galloped through the bank, crashing into walls, falling down, and careening into destroyed furniture.

Her hoarse laughter turned to inconsistent gurgling when she smashed through the front door and rushed to the parking lot. The heavy rain spread the blood and synapse being washed off her clothes into the deep puddles that had formed on the road.

***

May 29th, 1013 AN

Equestrian Transit

“It’s not very far now. Just a little while longer.”

Handsome chewed on a lollipop, twirling the stick back and forth. Shadows ran across her face as hills passed by outside the windows.

“Good thing I packed light, I guess,” she said, having gulped down a chunk of candy.

“You invested a lot into those things. Don’t you regret leaving them all behind?”

“No. I don’t like baggage. I wouldn’t know what to do with it, anyway.” Her hooves rubbed into the smooth black texture of her jacket, while she rocked in place slowly. “I’ll figure things out for myself on the spot.”

“It’s a rough start. But you’re used to that, aren’t you?”

The unicorn chewed at the plastic stick in her mouth, eyes turned to the table extended through the middle of the cabin. She exhaled and spat it out, hitting the disposables container next to the cab doors. Rubbing the side of her head with one hoof, Handsome reached for a colorful plastic bottle on the other side of the table. She grunted, nudging it closer, and took the cap off with her teeth. Spittle covered the table as she coughed, having inhaled the contents. A napkin wiped the stains away while the mare gulped, slowly drinking down the entire bottle.

“Your pills?”

“I think I’ll go without joy for a bit longer. I want to see how it pans out,” Handsome said quietly, pressing her hooves against her chest and wincing. “I’m numb enough as it is.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t, would you?”

Handsome looked to the other side of the cabin. She frowned, hissing and raising a hoof to one of her thin eyebrows, rubbing the rare colored hairs. There was a slight bump, knocking the bottle off the table. The mare opened her mouth, groaning after a few moments of stillness. She turned her head, watching the skyline close in.

“Yeah. That’s me. I was so numb, it took me time to realize that all these things, things I've seen so many times, just weren't right anymore. I felt… better than ever, back there. But I’m not dumb.” She pressed her face against the glass, the teardrop tattoos colliding. “I know what this is all about, you know.”

“You do?”

“I’d be dead if I didn’t. Or worse than dead. I went through a lot of crap before it finally got into my stupid head.” The glass vibrated and hummed after her hoof knocked against it. “There’s always a catch. I've seen it, but I kept turning a blind eye. See, it’ll always go to shit. When you think you got it all figured out, someone comes in and fucks it all up. That someone tends to be you, the other assholes just help about. All of us, all we do is fuck ourselves over. That’s our special talent now. You don’t need a picture on your ass for that.”

“That’s… certainly an acquired worldview, isn’t it?”

“This is why I’m here. When I had the mask on, the world was my bitch. I’d get sliced up with it on, and die happy. Only I wouldn’t.” She turned her head away from the window and closed her eyes. “When I was the Vulture, I saw myself going somewhere. Fast. Same place those freaks were going, only they knew why they did the things that they did. I just did things... and I could see every next step.”

“It was that natural, was it?”

“Like hitting the rewind key on your videodrome remote. Again, and again. Going somewhere I was meant to go.”
Handsome brought her hooves down on the table. She breathed heavily and coughed. After raising her eyes to the other side, she shrugged and took in a heavy breath, exhaling at a slow pace.

“Like it’s all decided for you?”

“Yeah. I didn’t mind. But then, too much of their garbage piled up. I wasn’t having it. This… isn’t how things are going to go.” The mare gestured, gritting her teeth as she spoke in a low tone. “All of this has sucked, but if it’s going to end in shit, I want it to end in MY shit. On MY terms.”

“What is to say the cycle just repeats again? Running away. Hurting others. Inventing reasons."

“It’s different.”

“How do you mean?”

“Because once that mask was done burning, and I was done wailing, I knew I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

The train’s horn went off, and the conductor’s voice spread through the cabins. Handsome smiled, stretching the scars on her lips. She pulled her ticket out of the air, where it levitated in a magical aura, and turned towards the door as it slid open.

***

April 21st, 1013 AN - 9:12 PM

Sun Hearth Street

Handsome waddled down the street, her snout pointed down. Her wheezing breath was occasionally interspersed with whimpers, guffaws and coughs, which sent reddish spittle flying into the puddles that formed in the heavy rain. Her jaw hung open. Raindrops hammered against her uncovered, shaved head, filling up her mouth.

The postal uniform was half undone, hanging off her body, revealing cuts, bruises and tattoos on her back and chest. Her eyes darted, tracking the walls of the stores and houses on both sides of the street. Squinting, the mare crossed the road, approaching a carriage stop. Stumbling over the empty bench, she pressed her snout against the duct-taped crystalline display on the sign pole. After shaking her head and squinting even tighter, the mare groaned, resting against the pole. The display alternated between “9:15 PM”, “NO TRANSIT”, and “STORM WARNING”.

She looked around, blinking slowly. The bright crystalline neon lights of streetside stores reflected in the puddles. Equine figures moved away from the doors and windows, keeping their heads turned in her direction. The mare proceeded through the closest door into a small grocery store. The sign hanging on the other side of the door swung in the air, flipping over to the side that read “CLOSED”.

Handsome gurgled and spat on the floor, spreading faintly reddish droplets all over the tiles. Her stuttered, heavy breathing was audible over the quiet music playing in the store. The few ponies that were inside - a store clerk and two customers - fell quiet, staying by the cash register. One of them, a young pink filly, gasped and hid behind a taller, teenage mare of a darker pink color.

“C-can we help you, m-mi… um… mister?..” the clerk asked, his forehooves twitching on the desk. The earth stallion’s dark orange coat perspired with sweat, his glasses sliding a bit down his snout. The acne covering his snout began to stand out as he went pale.

“I’m a mare, you fuck.” The mare grabbed her head and audibly grit her teeth. She hissed and whimpered. “I need booze.”

“Okay, okay, miss! Just hold on, I need to-”

“NOW.” Handsome stomped her hoof, cracking a floor tile. She crouched for a moment, coughing and hissing. Rubbing the hoof against her chest, she leaned against a set of shelves, knocking down cans of salad.

“...who are you?” the filly asked quietly. The taller mare’s hoof immediately smacked her on the head. She froze when the scarred unicorn turned her head towards them, her neck emitting an audible crack.

The teenage mare backed away into a corner, pulling the filly along with her.

Handsome glared at them, bloody drops still falling off her uniform and onto the floor. Her head tilted slowly, chest heaving alongside loud wheezes.

The postal mare moved closer, lowering her head, setting her eyes on the filly hiding behind the mare. Handsome’s breath reached the small pony, who coughed and shielded her snout, staring back. Flinging small sparks, the unicorn’s horn lit up erratically.

Her pinprick green pupils shook in the irises, vessels filled up with blood. They began to roll upwards before her eyelids closed, eyeballs still moving beneath. She exhaled with a high-pitched whine, turning her head away from the red-headed yellow earth pony with a bow in her mane.

“Good question,” Handsome muttered, extending a hoof to pat the filly on her bow. She convulsed, nearly slipping on the wet floor. Quiet, raspy laughter mixed into her huffs and groans as she leaned against the wall. Her hooves pressed against her eyes.

“It’s just the postmare! Be quiet!” the teenager whimpered out the side of her mouth. Sweat beads ran down her forehead. “Look, please… You’ve got the wrong address.”

“...is that so?” The scarred mare’s hooves dropped down on the floor, letting her eyes open again. She stared at the dark orange pegasus. The corner of her torn up lip wobbled. “Or maybe it’s YOU.” The unicorn’s teeth ground together loudly, eyes rolling back again. “Get the fuck OUT.”

The teenage mare rushed for the exit, dragging the filly behind her even after she’d slipped on the wet tiles. Handsome began to laugh more audibly, wobbling around and bumping into shelves, knocking over rows of groceries. She stopped to pick up a pack of cotton candy and bit into it, chewing it alongside the plastic bag it came in.

“Ma’am? Y-your… order?..” the stallion spoke up. Handsome spun in place, pieces of cotton candy falling out of her mouth. The clerk ducked under the desk, hiding behind the cash register.

The mare breathed in and coughed, spitting out a piece of plastic. She walked over to the counter and leaned over the large duffel bag that had been filled with salt drink. Her gilded teeth tore the cap off one of the bottles. The mare closed her lips around the neck and downed the whole liter and a half, holding the bottle vertically with her mouth. She shattered it against the counter and burped.

“Smokestick lighter. And fuel for it. Lots of fuel,” Handsome slurred. "On the house."

She giggled to herself as she stumbled out of the store, tears washed out by the rain, bag banging against her flank. Out of the dozen salt drink bottles inside, a quarter had been downed by when she turned into an alleyway by the apartment building. Smaller bottles of lighter liquid filled up the rest of the space.

Drooling out the mouth, the unicorn threw the bag off, some of the bottles smashing and spilling their contents into the puddles. Horn flickering, the mare levitated an intact bottle of lighter fluid. Having taken a sniff and, she took a small sip. Still coughing, she took in a mouthful and walked over to the bike that had been chained to a barrel fire underneath a cloth cover. Handsome spat the liquid out at the pin and spike-ornamented vehicle.

The mare downed the last of the alcohol and proceeded to toss lighter fluid at the bike. The lights got cracked, the leather seats got cushioned with glass, and the vulture mask that had been impaled onto a spike rising from the bike’s back was hit by at least three bottles, coating it in fluorescent fuel. Much of it spread onto the damaged blunderbuss and the club that lay on the luggage rack.

“Was it too much, Handsome?” A calm, deep female voice called out from behind. The mare turned her head, grimacing at the tall minotaur that stood in the alleyway. She held a big metal briefcase in one hand and an umbrella in the other. There was a unicorn next to her.

“I don't fucking know what any of this was,” the mare said before biting on the smokestick lighter’s trigger and throwing it at her fuel-soaked gear. "I want out."

“Are we leaving, then?” The minotaur and the mare’s glasses reflected the pillar of flame that engulfed the bike, the mask and the weapons. Handsome shielded her eyes from the piercing, bright glows.

“Just tell me how.” The mare slouched and budged between the two.

She shuddered and howled, choking up tears and cackles, as she walked out into the rain and away from the fire.

Bonus Chapter: Infestation

-

August 10th, 1009 AN
Mirrored Moon Hotel
Cauliflower Plains, Equestria

Hot wind slowly flowed through the wide open windows, dissipating in the cool air produced by unicorns at each end of the hotel’s foyer. Three dense lines of ponies gradually moved up the stairs and to the elevators, each passing through crystalline security gates. The foyer was filled with a low rumble of voices, guards passing orders along, ponies in the lines murmuring between each other, with each being questioned before proceeding through the gates. Frequent grunts and yelps came from the sidelines, where separate queues lined up to ponies in white with red cross markings on their armor.

The door burst open, letting in a team of white-armored troopers carrying a row of stretchers. The shield guards ushered the crowd to split up as the stretchers were rolled through the foyer into a side hall. The magical blur bubbles surrounding the stretchers covered up equine figures, most of which still moved.

“Sweet Celestia, are we still getting stragglers?” a white earthen stallion murmured before biting into a donut. He stood up from his seat and looked out the window overlooking the queues. “This is a bit much.”

“I thought we got out as many as we could.” Another stallion, an older fuschia-pink pegasus with a bloodstained bandage around his head, limped over to the window. He pressed his forehead against it, wincing and exhaling sharply. “The bugs got out of control… it happened too fast. Thought it was best to cut our losses. I didn’t think anyone else was going to make it out. Tough luck, I guess.”

“You did more than we could ask of you, mister…” The younger stallion frowned and scratched the back of his head. “Vice?”

The pink stallion turned away from the window and sat down on a couch, rubbing his eyes with his forehooves. “Yeah. Vice Purger. Police Commissioner… Carol City. So much for my damn vacation.” The gilded star-shaped badge on his beige uniform dangled as he slouched, half its clippings missing. “You’re here with the reinforcement team, aren’t you, kid?”

“Huh. I’m from Carol City, too.” The police pony smiled and nodded, rubbing his wing. The white stallion downed a cup of coffee and shuddered, bits of his brown mane landing over his eyes. “I just got transferred here. It looks pretty bad.”

“They send you Emergency Situation guys into all sorts of knee-deep shit, don’t they, these assholes?” Vice spat on the rug, leaving a reddish mark. “It’s bad enough they let things get so bad we need you. When I was your age, things were fine. No bugs. No fear. No riots. No meal-mouthed teen on the throne.” The pegasus growled, rubbing a bandaged wing with a hoof. “I’m real sorry you have to go out there and deal with this, kid. Guys like you should be on the force, keeping peace like normal ponies used to, not marching out in armor, fixing what these idiots broke down.”

The earth pony bit his lip and scraped a hoof against the stubble on his chin. He looked away from the police pony, glancing over at the other troopers gathered by a map on the other side of the room, beyond several meters of tangled wires connecting loudly humming crystals to radio equipment lined up on tables. Loud, piercing sounds came out of the headphones placed on empty chairs, audible even over the voices coming from the foyer.

“You know how I know it’s worse than usual? There’s nothing about San Fran on the news yet. All the other riots, the news would already be out,” the younger stallion said, still looking at the map of the city. “This time, it’s like they’ve all gone and forgotten how to write.”

“That’s because it’s no riot, kid. This isn’t bugs demanding we give them half the city, or stuck-up pricks complaining that allowing bugs to wear disguises is bad, or what have you. I guess they know what’s going to happen if Equestria finds out what’s really going on in there. We’ve been on a hair trigger since '04.” Vice sighed. “I’m an honest police pony, but this is too far gone for truth. You’re going to go out there, fix this shit, and then they’ll make it sound better than what it really is. It makes me sick, but that’s what we need right now. I’d rather lies than this kind of truth. I’ve no idea what’s really going on in there - I just know it’s bad, and I know Equestria doesn’t take it well when things are bad.”

“This’ll be one serious cover-up. The refugees haven’t been shy about telling us… stuff,” the trooper said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If even half of it is true, I mean… The changelings aren’t going to be having a very good time once Equestria finds out what’s been being cooked up this whole time.”

“You’ve got brains, kid. You see now? The Wedding War never ended just because the Princess signed some stupid pact. None of the troopers stationed here want to give me the time of day, you know. Like I’m a blank space. Maybe I wasn’t in charge of San Fran’s police, but I was there.” Vice hit the couch with a forehoof. “This isn’t mass changeling hysteria. They’ve turned into animals.”

“What, is the Princess’ new brew that bad?” the earth pony asked.

“That’s the story your commanders are going with, huh? So you do have your heads on straight. It's way too fitting that it’s that purple dumbass making things worse again. I mean, it'd make a lot of sense… but I’m not sure.” The pegasus shuffled on the couch and shook his head. “I’m no fan of the bugs myself, but I swear, thinking back, it makes me sick. They don’t stop, they don’t think, their eyes are like glass… They're all feral, glowing green.” He threw his head back and shut his eyes. “Who knows? Maybe this is their true nature. Maybe this is who they are. Just a bunch of stupid animals, and we’ve let them in, let them feel welcome. So they sit there, waiting until they’re told what to do, and how to do it. No will of their own, just masks they put on to fool us until they hear their masters’ call.”

“The Queen’s been dead for years.” The earth pony paused. “Maybe with the Princess’ invention, they’ll finally do like they promised and start blending in at large.”

“I’d like to be able to tell myself that, kid. I can tell you don’t believe any of that for a moment, though. The little ones, with the glassy eyes, they don’t know how to use their brains. They lose control, go feral, they don't even know what they need for food - they go mad. But you’ve been out there, you know what the big, smart ones are like. Like the ones your guys had to hunt while they still thought to call this a war. Those are cunning animals. And they learn from each other’s mistakes, mark my words. They’ll bring us destruction and violence. I mean, fuck!” The police pony raised his voice. “They already have! Riots in the streets, morons lynching after the bugs trying to scrape by, other bugs pressing down on ponies, it’s never been like this!”

“That’s why we’re here.” The stallion hung his head.

“You’ve seen the skyline, do you think this looks fine? Yeah, you don’t. You don’t have to look me in the eyes, I know you know. Now we’ll just have to rely on you to go in there and clean this mess up.”

The earth pony rolled his eyes and got up, grunting and flexing his neck.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Vice called out.

“Uh… Thorn,” the earth pony answered, taking a look at the stallion on the couch. “Shield Corporal Thorn Coat.”

“Don’t get yourself killed for nothing out there, Thorn.”

He yawned and waved to the police pony before trotting away, stepping over the wires on the floor. Having made his way there, he patted the troopers on their shoulders, exchanging hoof-shakes when they turned around.

Thorn finished a half-empty cup of coffee that stood on the table by the map, his eyes focused on the image of the city, covered in cyan crosses, hashes and a number of blue dots. There were letters and numbers by each dot, reading ‘GW1’, ‘GW2’, ‘DC1’, ‘DC2’. His eyes lingered on the dot that read ‘DC2’, making up the right side in the trapezoid formed by the blue dots. It was an apartment building near a hospital.

The trooper’s forehoof traced a line between the blue dots, eventually landing on a thick blue cross on the outskirts of the city, marked ‘REFINERY’. Around it were lines of numerical estimates, most of them crossed out, some underlined and followed by exclamation marks. Faint outlines of numerous blue lines drawn from the dots to the cross remained on the map. The stallion rubbed a hoof against one and groaned after it remained almost completely intact. On the empty space to the sides of the map, ‘IMPROVISE’ was written in bold blue marker.

Thorn left the room and headed down past the elevator, passing next to a pair of unicorn troopers that were holding off a civilian family of five. When they turned their attention to him and began to shout in an incoherent choir, he raised his forehooves and shook his head. Thorn pushed with his shoulder, forcing a bright blue magical barrier to disappear, letting him enter the stairway. It came back after he went up half a flight.

A pegasus air trooper stood by the tall, wide-open windows, a smokestick in his mouth, forehooves hanging down the railing. The city was visible in the distance, emitting cyan smoke.

“Learn anything new?” Thorn asked.

“Nothing useful, just a whole lot of bullshit. I hate civvie duty, I swear,” the pegasus replied, grimacing. “Wacked out punks, all of them. Almost got my face bitten off today… Feeling like it’s these ponies who need potions to stay normal, not the bugs. Bugs are like… whatever.”

“I don’t know, honestly. Hard to blame them for losing it, even when I’m down there and they’re throwing rocks at me. I mean, these past few years…” Both troopers hung their heads. “You’d think things would get easier after we got used to life after the Crystal Empire. Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I just hope the changelings quit pretending. You get these friendly types who praise us up and down and tell us how shit life was with the Queen. My lunch always wants out when I hear that bullcrap.” The air trooper kicked his hoof. “You sure you don’t want to pass up your spot? I’d rather be out there than dealing with these San Franciscolt punks.”

“Nah. I’m fine, thanks for the offer. I go out now, and they’ll let me take a break. Something tells me we won’t be able to do this nice and clean. There’ll be emergency situations all over Equestria, if you catch my drift.”

“Yeah, well, at least we’ll get more action and less bullshit. Don’t get lost on the way to the hangar.”

Thorn shrugged after the pegasus bumped his shoulder with a hoof. He walked up the stairs, stopping on the second floor, where two troopers in white were wrestling with a teenage white unicorn. The stallion tilted his head and rubbed the back of his head, slowly approaching the scene.

The mare was frothing at her mouth, blood streaming through her pierced bottom lip, which she kept chewing. Tears streamed down her tattooed cheeks, ruining her already damaged corpse makeup. There was blood at different stages of drying on her striped purple and black socks. She was covered in bandaged cuts and bruises, a purple-and-read heart locked banging against her chest as her body struggled against the medics. The teen screamed incoherently in a scratchy, high-pitched voice. Her bloodshot green eyes were shrunk down to pinprick size, looking at neither of the doctors.

One of the troopers was holding her back, gripping her long, dyed purple hair, while the other was pressing down on her hooves, trying to get a syringe into her neck. Both had fresh bruises on their faces, and the one holding her mane was bleeding from his forehead.

Thorn stepped towards the commotion just as the doctor managed to push the needle into the teen. She was silenced mid-scream, eyes rolling back, body going limp. He raised a hoof and opened his mouth, to which the doctors gestured an all-clear. Thorn looked away from the unicorn, shuddering. His ears flicked as he raised a hoof to his chin, slowly turning back. He looked again to the collapsed unicorn and began to raise a hoof as she was carried away. His hoof came back down as he shook his head and kept climbing the stairs.

Four flights later, Thorn made his way through the door to the roof, dissipating another barrier along the way. He caught his breath, wiping sweat off his face with a hoof. Shielding his eyes against the sun, the stallion made his way to a tent next to the makeshift hangar. He went past a line of lockers, navigating to the one that with the picture of a gate covered in brambles. The door opened once he approached, revealing a heavy tower shield with hoof straps and crystals attached to its sides.

He put his left foreleg through the straps, holding it in place as they fastened. The shield banged against the floor while Thorn readjusted his leg, lifting it up and down. He squinted, tracing the straps as they moved around in their sections when he bent his leg. With a rough huff, the stallion made a few striking motions. The shield left a hazy after-image each time it swung, the crystals glowing brighter whenever his leg pulled back at the straps.

Thorn stopped and nodded, stomping the shield leg on the floor and sliding it up his leg. He walked out into the open, breathing deep when a slow gust of wind passed by.

“Feeling restless?” a unicorn mage trooper sitting on a chair by the tent asked. He took a sip from a sparkle water bottle. “We’re deploying together. I’m with the Ghost Wolves.”

“Defense Company.” Thorn nodded at the red-maned unicorn. “We’ll be on the other side of the city. It’s a mess. I thought my last deployment was bad...”

“Hey, it’s not all grim business these days,” the unicorn said, smiling. He got up and extended a hoof. Thorn looked at him for a moment before shaking it. “We’ll make sure this doesn’t go belly up. Command isn’t usually that dumb unless Twilight’s Council gets involved. If all goes to plan, we’re all gonna be clean and no one’ll ever have to know.”

“Sounds unlikely.” Thorn looked down and rubbed his shield leg. He looked away from the unicorn. ”At least this time we’re helping ponies out and not bashing them with shields.”

“Chin up. It looks bad now, but we’ve always pulled through. Few more years of this, and we’ll be back to where we were. They’ll pay us a pension, too.” The mage trooper smiled. “What did you do before ES/AS?”

“I was applying for a post with the Royal Guard,” the earth stallion replied. He chewed on his lip.

“Well, hey, we’re not gonna be that different. When this is all over, I’m going to settle down and run a convenience store, or something quiet like that. There’s no better job than a job where you sit around and do nothing, am I right?” The unicorn downed the rest of his bottle and exhaled. “I’m Red, by the way. Lieutenant Redmane. Just got over here today. If the rest of your squad isn’t around, you could hang with us for half an hour.”

“I’m, um… Let me find out real quick,” the earth stallion mumbled, looking away from Red.

Thorn walked around the corner and looked into the hangar. In there, a half dozen ponies were inspecting a big, trapezoid construction strapped with crystals, propellers attached to its two wings that stood folded upwards. One of the ponies was finishing up with a picture depicting a hoof coming down on a cockroach. The green mare jerked and twisted around when Thorn cleared his throat, her short blonde mane covering her eyes.

“Is the fly-cage going to be ready soon?” he asked.

“...yeah, two hours or so. You’re on our second squad, right? Thorn?” the mare asked in return. The stallion nodded. “Don’t tell command we’re painting these up, yeah? Lost a bet to my brother, that’s all. I don’t want to deploy with my ass bright red.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He walked out, turning his head to the mage. Having paused for a moment, Thorn sighed and kept walking, reaching the edge of the roof and staying there, looking at the skyline of San Franciscolt. He rested his head on the top of the shield.

“Hey, Thorn!” Red called out from where he sat. “The drinks are on the house if you change your mind.”

“Sorry. Don’t drink.” Thorn shut his eyes.

“Wouldn’t be so sour if you did,” the unicorn said as he left for the other end of the roof.

“Doesn’t help,” Thorn said quietly, staring at the blue smoke coming from the city.

***

San Franciscolt, Equestria - 4:10 PM

“ETA is ten minutes,” a female voice cut into the fizzling and crackling emerging from Thorn’s earpiece. The trooper it belonged to, a unicorn in a glossy, tight uniform, pressed her eye against the looking glass tube hanging from the ceiling. “Been three years since I went here for a vacation. Total chaos, loitering in the streets, bugs stumbling around… The weather was better back then, that’s about it for differences.”

The squad members laughed, some guffawing out loud, some snickering for just a moment. Thorn stayed quiet, tapping the joints on his thick armored suit. Including the unicorn by the glass, there were six ponies in the fly-cage - a pegasus air fighter in a padded jackets and face-mask, a pegasus medical trooper in red and white armor, two unicorn mages in full-body glossy suits with a red line going down one’s side and a blue down the other’s, and two shieldbearer earth ponies in heavy armor. Everyone but the unicorn were in their drop chutes that lined the sides of the fly-cage, staying secure while their transport moved through the city.

“What about the changelings, Captain?” Thorn spoke up, nudging the speaker bead by his mouth to turn it on. “How do they look, do you see any synaptics?”

“It’s a bunch of waddling, drooling cretins down there, Shield Corporal. Looks like the refugees really weren’t bullshitting. If you’re worrying about the big ones, I’ve a negative for now.” The unicorn got into her chute and slid on the mask, faint light emerging from beneath the oculi when her horn lit up. “Our shiny gizmo tech doesn’t seem to want to work right now, so it can’t tell us what bugs are around.”

“They that wacked out, huh?” the other shielder on the squad asked. “Full lethal assault then, is it, Captain?”

“Not officially.” The mare laughed, parts of her words getting lost in the hissing interference. “But what’s official about any of this anymore? Let’s go in and get out. With any luck, there’s still some stragglers we can save. These cheeseleg bastards don’t get to fuck with our ponies.”

“Now we’re talking!” One of the pegasi raised his forehoof and pumped it in the air. “Let’s do what we signed up for!”

The squad cheered, while Thorn took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He flexed his neck, grabbing a metal bar as the cage began to shake harder.

“Quick rundown before we drop,” the mare said, leaving the looking glass. “Our LZ is Golden Grace Hospital. Bust it out, filter out into the streets, make some noise. From there, it’s a straight shot down the road, through the harbor and to the outskirts. Our two squads will be trying to get their attention while the Ghost Wolves get into the refinery and have it sorted. We’ll meet at Hays Valley at the pier and then hold out until the sneakers give us the signal. If we see anyone who can be helped, we do our best. Anyone who’s lagged behind is probably helpless, and they’ll need assistance.”

The radio bead in Thorn’s ear sputtered out high pitched, hissing noises. He knocked on his helmet, causing the interference to go away. The rest of the squad went through the same motions.

“So they’ve told us nothing more? Do we know why our stuff is messing up?” he asked, enunciating into the bead as the interference picked up again. “Since when do they-”

“If there was, I’d be telling you. We’re going in blind, boys and girls, and we’re figuring it all out on the go.” The unicorn got into her chute. “Be glad you’re not with the Wolves - they’re going to be there to see what the hell happened in the first place. Our task is to improvise, make a racket, and keep whoever we can find safe. I didn’t get my cutie mark for standing around when innocent ponies are being fucked with, and neither did any of you.”

A low, rumbling hum arose at the exterior. The cage wobbled in the air as it got louder, turning into a metallic growl. Another cheer from the squad covered up most of the noise, but enough remained audible for it to be noticed. The squad members shuffled around, the captain in particular rising from her chute once an iron plate burst from the ceiling, unveiling brightly glowing, fizzling crystals within a tangle of wires.

“Hold on,” she said, rushing to the looking glass. “This isn’t right.”

Thorn sunk back into the chute, grabbing the bars with both forehooves. A low, whooping noise was barely audible over the interference, rumbling and chatter. The stallion stopped breathing, staring at the rest of the squad.

He had raised his hoof and opened his mouth, turning to the unicorn by the looking glass, only to be jerked forward as their aircraft abruptly jolted. He stayed within the chute, holding onto the bars, but the next jolt sent him crashing into the back of the cage, leaving cracks on the back of his helmet.

A thick beam of cyan synapse flame tore through the fly-cage, sending it crashing down uncontrollably and melting two of his squadmates where they sat. With a loud, booming bang, it landed on the top of an apartment building. Thorn’s visor smashed against a piece of rebar that pierced through the hull, the plastic cracking. The suspender belts around his chest held as he lost consciousness, blood dripping out of his nose.

***

44 Cascade Street - 10:57 PM

The stallion took deep breaths, looking down from the roof of the apartment building. Further down the street, the hospital could be seen, towering above the apartment blocks and shops. He raised an armored foreleg and moved it around, watching the shock absorbers on the forehooves wobble around. After another look four stories down, the trooper grunted and shook his head. He turned around and walked over to the table next to the skylight the fly-cage destroyed as it crashed. For a moment, he turned his head to the four corpses - an earth pony, two pegasi and a unicorn - lined up on a patch of the roof clear of rubble, their eyes closed and forehooves crossed on their chests. The trooper pressed a hoof against his face and bit his lip before looking back away.

“...won’t die for nothing,” Thorn said quietly.

He put a bead inside his ear, tapped it and then pushed against it, bringing the volume of the shrieking, fizzling noises down. Voices were audible every few seconds, incomprehensible with all the interference now going on.

Thorn closed his eyes, exhaled and flexed before reaching for the helmet on the table. The cracked, scratched armor plates on his body held together, clattering wherever the damage weakened the connection. He put on the helmet, leaving the cracked, blood-caked visor pointing upwards. His dented tower shield unfolded as he stomped his leg, staying attached after a couple of swings in the air. Thorn winced and shook his head, working out the shield leg before climbing over rubble toward the rooftop exit. Blood trickled out of the stallion’s bruised snout.

The trooper stomped down the stairway and to the padlocked door, which gave way off its hinges after a single push. The apartment behind it was ruined, parts of the wall having collapsed inwards, furniture laying in pieces, a coldbox standing open with food still in it. There was a jagged black body laying underneath a pile of rubble, oozing green liquid. Thorn stopped in front of it, squinting at the liquid.

“All green,” the stallion said out loud. He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced, landing a reddish spit on the changeling before moving on. “Have they gone feral?...”

Having walked past the room the cage had crashed into, the trooper made his way to the corridor between apartments. Furniture had been piled up in the crossing, the stairs to the lower floor visible through the cracks between wardrobes and chairs. After a number of swipes and bashes with Thorn’s shield, the barricade was disposed of, wood and rippled cushioning littering the plaster, ash and dust-covered floor. High-pitched chittering and dull, echoing buzzing came from beneath. The stallion slowly made his way down the stairs, keeping the shield leg in front.

Down below, an equine figure shambled amidst broken furniture, shattered plates and cutlery thrown all over the floor. The only source of light in the room was a cracked torchbug lantern that lay sideways on a de-legged drawer, and the bright, glowing green wounds on the equine’s body. It shuddered on jagged legs, fluorescent drool dripping out its hung-open mouth. Blank, radiant green eyes stayed open wide, casting a shade of green over the destroyed interior.

Its wings buzzed as it began to turn around to face Thorn. A hollow, slow chitter came out of its mouth as it stumbled forward, swiping at the trooper with a stiff leg, only to fall down on the floor more than a meter short of him. An armored hoof came down on its head, leaving behind another glowing crack among the many others it was covered in. Thorn paused, looking at the body as it shuddered on the floor, slowly scrambling to get up and failing. He walked on, leaving it behind as it wheezed and clicked its gums.

Another bout of high-pitched chittering came from below, this time with rapid, tittering hoofsteps being audible close by. Thorn passed a living room lined with rugs, bead strings and hookahs, and entered the apartment intersection, stepping over a potted miniature palm that had crashed down the length of the corridor. There was a wide hole in the middle of the room on the other side, with a desk and chair having fallen to the ground floor. The trooper approached it, kicking aside trophies and diplomas strewn all over the room, and leaned over the hole.

The hoofsteps got louder, now accompanied by distorted, gasping breaths in addition to the chittering. They emerged from the ground floor. Quick shadows passed along where the moonlight came in through the windows.

Thorn stepped back and looked back down the corridor, heading to the next stairway. The torchbug and crystal lanterns fixed to the walls were either broken or emitted a very weak, inconsistent light, hardly illuminating the floor littered with newspapers and pamphlets.

He tapped his shoulder, which produced a faint light out of the inbuilt torch, which began to sputter within a few seconds before winking out. After closing his eyes and exhaling, the stallion descended and loudly smashed the shield into the floor upon having made it to ground level. Three distinct high pitched voices responded with distorted screeching and an approaching clatter of jagged legs. An apartment door a few meters down the corridor burst, with a changeling shape shooting out of it and skidding to a halt, knocking the neighboring apartment’s mailbox off the wall. The runner’s blank eyes glowing green and bulging out of its head, its legs kicked around as it scampered on the floor, gaining speed for another charge. It chittered and wheezed, mouth open wide, green liquid dripping off its fangs. When it lunged for Thorn, it ran headfirst into the shield, cracking its chitin and splattering a steaming green liquid all over it.

The changeling landed on its back, and the trooper moved over, raising an armored hoof. The black, chitinous body blurred and fizzled, turning into a pony for several moments. Its chittering and wheezing turned into guttural screaming and crying as it attempted to drag itself away. The pony’s pinprick eyes stared at Thorn without blinking. The stallion paused, watching the changeling swap in and out of its disguise, going from dragging itself away to shielding itself with its hooves. He grit his teeth, crushing the changeling’s rib cage with his shield, turning its distorted shrieking and chittering into bubbling gurgles.

Three more changelings made their way into the corridor by then, each of them charging swiftly on rigit, shaking limbs. One of them launched at the trooper, coming straight at the shield, only to stop itself before making impact and leap backwards, hissing and buzzing its wings. Thorn held his shield in place, watching the runner in front of him bend down and kick its hoof, with another behind him pacing back and forth and twitching its head, already flickering between forms. Their noises blended together, creating a choir of wheezes, chitters and howls.

The stallion grunted when the third runner smashed into him from the side, sending him into a wall and causing his shield cover to drop. He rebound, smacking away the panting, growling changeling with a blow to its face and raising his shield in time for one of the other two to crash its hooves against it. There was a crack of chitin, and a splatter of green when Thorn brought his shield leg down, squashing a flickering extremity. Dragging steaming green goo against the floor, he rammed the shield sideways into the runner at his side, breaking one of its hind legs.

The third changeling remained further down the corridor, pacing left and right and kicking its hooves, wide open blank green eyes glaring at the stallion. It made a series of brisk steps towards the shielded trooper, raising a hoof before immediately jumping backwards. Thorn brought the shield down on the floor and propelled himself forward with a push of his other legs, smashing into the runner before it regained its balance. There was a wet crack as its head collided with the shield. Thorn cleared his throat and caught his breath, going down the steps to the door that lead outside.

The two-lane street outside was illuminated by a few hanging lamp posts, creating areas of weak pinkish glowing in an area otherwise filled with moonlight, tinted dark blue as it passed through the thick cyan smoke that covered the sky. Beyond most of the windows, there was still light, albeit some were smashed, curtains flowing out in the breeze that had picked up. The street was quiet, safe for bangs and loud, piercing screeches in the direction of the hospital and the refinery, and the quiet noises of the roaming drones.

The changeling drones lumbered in the dark, discernible by the bright green radiance coming from their eyes and wounds, on the ones whose chitin was damaged. A drone sat on its haunches right by the building Thorn had left, slowly rocking back and forth, holding its head in its hooves, moaning with its tongue hanging out. To the left, another stood on its hind legs by a hot dog stand, moving its rigid limbs to replicate the motions of a vendor putting a hot dog together, starting over each time. Another drone sat on the balcony of the building opposite the apartments, walking up against the railing and attempting to move its legs as if no obstacle was in place. One drone shambled down the road in Thorn’s direction, its pace quickening when its eyes focused themselves on the trooper. The changeling clicked its mouth and began to close the distance before walking into a patch of light, at which point it fell on the ground and shut its eyes, shielding them further with its hooves. Tear-like green liquid dribbled out of its eyes as it wheezed and coughed, its wings trembling with an echoing buzz.

“...the cop wasn’t kidding,” Thorn muttered under his breath as he trotted between the patches of light, following the street toward the hospital. “What a disaster.”

He walked past a destroyed barricade, sticking by the lights of the police carriages placed to each side of the chunks of wood and plastic that used to block the way. Examining the interiors, he found no bodies, all the equipment left intact, including police communicators. Like the one in his ear, they hissed with interference.

Thorn walked to the back of one of the carriages and slammed into the back door with his shield, throwing it open. He put the shield up, until the inside came into view. The carriage was empty, including the basic equipment shelves along the sides. He poked a box with a red cross on it with a hoof, and scowled as it reacted with an empty rattle. With a quick glance to each side, the stallion trotted over to the other carriage, the back door of which was laying on the ground, torn off its hinges. He looked inside and reeled, seeing multiple decomposing drones piled on top of a body in police uniform. Shaking his head and breathing in deep, he walked onwards down the street.

A dozen of slow, dazed changelings shuffled in his trail, having begun tracking him when he crossed the barricade. They shambled out of the underground station entrance, stumbling on the rising steps, few making it all the way up. Thorn looked back at them and upped his pace.

Down the direction the trooper was heading, a large synaptic growth towered in the middle of a large eight-way crossroads, weakly radiating green at its base and cyan off the elliptical spots on its sides. The houses were stacked tight along each sides of the street, with the only alleyway opening up into a sewage drain hole. No light posts operated in this part of the street, leaving it completely dark safe for some of the windows and a number of wounded changelings, as well as a few puddles of glowing synapse underneath those that stood in place, drooling and bleeding into the piles. Erratic clicking was emerging from all around, coupled with hissing and growling. Thorn punched his shoulder hard, getting the in-built torch to activate and maintain a consistent light ray.

Far more changelings were concealed behind hedges, bushes and fences lining the street, which drowned out the moonlight. As the torch revealed them, they contorted, twitching their heads, bubbling the synapse in their mouths. Echoing heaving began to pick up among the changelings. The stallion sucked air in through his teeth and started into a quick canter down the street, closing in on the crossroads. Along the way, he trampled over discarded paper bags, aerosol cans, unlabeled bottled and sticks. Entering the crossroads proper, he toppled over a miniature potted tree, smashing a sign that had been planted into the earth alongside it. ‘RESPECT THE PACT’ was written on it in cyan paint.

Thorn squinted and blinked several times, adjusting to the faded green and cyan of the growth. It had a liquid, flowing appearance, with the only solid parts to it being the cyan cocoons sprouting off the sides. Dried, dessicated changeling husks lay close by, including several long-horned synaptics. As Thorn circled around it, he ended up coming across the large centaur-shaped carcass, which sat on its knees before the growth, its chitin steaming as it slowly decomposed. Its arms were lodged into the matter of the growth.

“Centurions… sweet Celestia…” he whispered. Raising his head, the trooper found the hospital towering in the direction of the north-eastern road that split off the crossroads. He began to walk around the large, desiccating husk, only to stop and smash it with the shield.

A plate of crusted chitin cracked, falling off and putting the centurion out of balance, leaving it to topple over. Its arms fell out of the growth, which wobbled in response. Thorn began to canter in the direction of the hospital by when it stabilized itself. A wet, fleshy sound came from the growth.

After looking behind his shoulder, the trooper stopped. One of the cocoons had opened, while the others settled after a wave of vibrations. Within was a mare in skin-tight ES/AS uniform, rocking back and forth. Taking a sharp breath, the stallion rushed back over to her.

“Hey! Are you alright? Can you hear me?” he spoke loudly, his ears twitching at the echo of his voice spreading down the streets. Standing in front of the growth again, he made an abrupt stop, his mouth hanging open. “Oh fuck…”

The Captain made repetitive rocking motions, the irises of her eyes rolled back, eyelids rarely closing. Clutched in her forehooves was a young foal with the same absent eyes. Two more foals sat on their haunches to her side, clinging to her legs with unmoving forehooves, their heads facing forward, jaws hanging open, colorless drool dripping off their lower lips. Their only signs of life were the rare blinks and occasional deep breaths.

“Hello? Captain?! What did they do to you?” Thorn shouted, getting in the mare’s face. There was no reaction. “Shhhit… Hold on, I’m going to-”

He growled, grabbing on to the side of the cocoon with both forehooves and pulling at it. The growth held, only responding with jello-like wobbling once he let go. At that point, the other cocoons were still vibrating, being moved by something from within the luminescent synaptic construct. The smooth, cyan material withstood several blows from his shield, immediately recovering from any dents. Thorn stomped his hoof into the synapse-stained pavement and grabbed the mare, shaking and pulling at her shoulders hard enough to cause the core of the growth to boil and bubble.

The Captain and the foals did not react, remaining in place no matter the force the stallion applied. A few seconds into his contact with them, however, they began to be pushed towards him. Thorn stepped back, staring at the vibrating, gurgling synapse. The green center had expanded to several times its previous size, turning the cocoons at an angle. The dead centurion's arms dissolved within it, and the rest of his body was sunk deeper in, quickly disappearing.

"What the hell is it—" Thorn began, before his jaw dropped and his pupils shrunk. "..."

The closed cocoons glowed brightly before being snuffed out, while the opened one began to crack. The chitin snapped, letting the Captain and the falls limply fall on the ground. The trooper remained in place, watching a new centaur shape well up inside the growth. Loud clicking and hacking noises spread through the neighboring streets.

The centurion spread its shoulders, pushing at the substance of the growth. Thorn slowly shook his head and backpedaled, his eyes darting between the motionless bodies and the centurion. More changelings hollered in the streets. The stallion upped his pace, breathing in deep, looking at the streets that were being filled with runners. Behind him, the street leading to the hospital only gained a half dozen pairs of glowing eyes, drones crawling through the dark.

At the point when high-pitched insectoid changeling screeches and guttural, throaty pony hollering started to echo from all directions, the centurion's growth burst open. It growled, stumbling out of the remains of the growth, which emitted a loud fleshy sound, its remains puling back together. The giant changeling let off two streams of green flame into the sky through holes in its hands.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered and lowered his head, leaving the mare and the foals behind as he started toward the road to the hospital.

He rammed through several runners before slowing down to plant his shield on the ground, which an approaching runner crashed into, cracking its own skull. Others that had been galloping in his direction skidded to a halt, flickering between their forms. Thorn stayed in place, taking steady breaths and watching the runners, who paced around, twitching their heads, panting and growling. There were six in plain view, with more shuffling along in the shadows underneath the roadside trees. Every few seconds, one of them would attempt to swipe at the trooper, only to back off before connecting.

As the sharp clattering of hooves and loud screeching coming from the other streets began to close in, Thorn struck with his shield when one of the runners went for an attack. The changeling dodged back, flickering into a pony as it screamed, spreading spittle all over the shield. The trooper’s armored forehoof punched into its jaw, cutting the scream short and crushing through the pony visage. The remaining runners paused, emitting high-pitched chittering, bending their spines and twisting their necks. Some distance in the back, the centurion was slowly approaching, its steps shaking the ground.

Thorn charged through another one of the runners and moved further down the street, trotting past a lane of palm trees planted down the road. The changelings split up, some skittering along the road, some leaping onto the trees that lined the pavement. Drones staggered out of buildings, falling down steps, some dropping out of windows, most continuing to try to crawl towards the stallion. Hollow, moaning screams, followed by suctioning sounds, came from behind, as some of the drones and a number of the runners held in their tracks, mouths open wide, bright cyan vapor floating out of their mouths and eyes into the holes in the centurion's arms.

The swarming mass of runners approaching from the rest of the city lost many in their number when the centurion roared and fired off a jet of flame down in Thorn's direction. The stallion dove into an alleyway, while numerous changelings went up in flames, emitting bulbous trails that floated back to the centaur changeling. The comms bead activated on impact, emerging with a loud shot of static before dying out.

Within the alley, a chain link fence toppled over as the trooper bumped into it. He put up his shield, taking a staggering drone head on. Thorn grunted and made his way up the alley, away from the street that was still cooling down, only to stop when a loud shriek erupted behind him, coupled with a loud buzzing. His armor clattered as he collapsed onto the road, brought down by a runner that had leaped on his back from a height. It spent a second screaming, its wings buzzing loudly, before starting to bang its hooves against the trooper’s helmet, leaving deep scratches with the jagged ends. The changeling stayed attached as Thorn rolled onto his side. When he pushed to throw himself on his back, it fell under the combined weight of both the stallion and the armor, flickering and howling as its chitin cracked, synapse spraying out in fountains.

The building next to the alley trembled, the centurion's horns showing above its roof. Thorn braced, staying on his hooves as the giant changeling broke through its roof, kicking the front in with a hoof. A few runners entered the valley before skidding to a halt, withering away, the centurion absorbing them too. Thorn grit his teeth and took a low start, rushing back to the street, while the centurion emitted a loud hiss and began to pull out of the building.

Further down the street, bodies of changelings were strewn all over. There were precise circles scorched into the pavement, as well as occasional trails of melting ice. Multiple trails identical to the one the centurion left were lining the pavement, one splitting a small shop in half. Underneath a hotel’s brightly glowing sign, there was an earth pony trooper in armor similar to Thorn’s, with different company markings. The stallion turned his head and slowed down, only to pick up the pace once again upon seeing the body only move with the beating of the centurion's hooves. It slumped down onto the pavement, into the pool of drying blood that had spread around it.

Thorn neared in on another abandoned police barricade, shoulder-charging through the tape and cardboard warning signs. The carriages to its side were dented and scorched, lights smashed. He slowed down to avoid trampling over the bodies in police uniforms that lay on the road. The trooper coughed, catching his breath, and maintained a steady pace down the lane, closing in on the hospital grounds. Dissolving changeling bodyparts became more frequent as the stallion approached the marble sign near the entrance, covered in stale synapse which still emitted a weak green glow over the cyan core within.

The trooper stopped, putting a hoof against the sign and heaving, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva on the ground. He shook his head, looking at the remains of numerous drones, killed in a variety of ways. The towering building itself was smoking from the inside, with numerous windows blown out, and a fly-cage’s rear end sticking out of a large breach in one of its upper floors. A nearby ambulance was splattered in blood, with the twisted body of a pegasus in light armor lying within a deep dent on its hood.

The smell of smoke emerging from the building mixed into the ozonous vapor produced by the dissipating changelings, its trails adding into the haze created by decaying synapse. Gulping and taking a deep breath, Thorn ran on, squashing changeling matter with most steps. He took the street down a steep downturn just past the hospital grounds, which headed toward the cyan smoke billowing out of the refinery beyond the harbor.

The trail of changeling bodies continued, now coupled with damaged synaptic growths that covered patches of the street. Thorn winced, squinting at the idly swirling green cores. They sprouted in alleyways between short buildings, in the middle of the road itself, casting the otherwise dark slope in green and cyan light. The cocoons attached to them bore signs of damage, some having turned a darker azure shade. Thorn ran past several cocoons that had been opened up as well, looking away from the ponies contained within. Tripping over a mostly intact, solid body of a synaptic changeling, he ended up butting into one of the opened pods, with the pony inside showing no reaction despite the trooper’s weight. The horde following in the stallion’s wake emitted a unified sharp screech, joined in by a few distorted voices from closer down the street.

“Dammit—” He spat on the ground and heaved, clearing his throat. His snout was covered in blood from the cocooned mare’s nose which he broke upon impact. “Celestia… How did they… urgh.”

Thorn pushed back against the encased pony, scampered back onto his own hooves and ran on forward. The mare in running clown makeup continued to slowly make juggling motions despite the bruises and the broken nose. Her eyes remained rolled back into her skull.

The lane he had been following was blocked by another collapsed centurion, which lay on its side, oozing green out of numerous deep gashes on its body and missing an arm. Thorn gave it a bash with his shield before observing further.

On the other side stood a small transit tramway carriage. Further ahead, the street took another steep decline, with stairs placed on the sidewalks and warning signs, all of which had been painted over. The trooper approached the decline and grit his teeth, shaking his head and turning to the stairs. He groaned, leaning over the centurion’s dead body and squinting at the distant end of the street, which lead into the harbor.

The living centurion's piercing hissing and screaming sounded off in the closer distance, followed by the end of a green flame jet coating the police barricade in synaptic fire. Thorn exhaled and wiped sweat off his forehead, turning to the tram.

It creaked under his weight, tilting into the drop as he bucked open the driver’s section. Having cleared the panel of glass shards and rocks that littered the buttons and levers, Thorn shut his eyes and exhaled.

“...this is suicide,” he murmured, moving the brake lever. With a loud grunt, the stallion pushed his shoulder into the panel. The tram went on full tilt and started rolling down its track, gaining speed on the sharp slope.

Thorn jumped back into the passenger compartment and pressed his back against a metal support, planting his hooves into the floor. The rattling of various debris littering the interior, as well as the shuddering floor and supports, combined with the whistling of the wind coming through the broken windows to drown out the noises coming from the changeling mob. The street would occasionally even out for an intersection before sloping downwards again, shaking the entire car. Abandoned purses and drinks flew off the seats, spilling their contents all over the floor. What remained of some of the windows collapsed further, leaving a trail of glass on the road.

A minute into the increasingly fast decline, the tram nearly jumped and slowed down for several seconds. Wet, chunky sounds were followed by a series of loud cracks, after which the tram continued down the slope. Thorn looked up and grimaced, gulping and turning around. There was a bright red trail on the tramway track.

The waterfront was getting closer, marked by a wooden arch that read ‘HAYS VALLEY HARBOR’ in gilded lettering. Another police barricade was placed underneath it, covered in luminescent synaptic growth on top of having been mostly broken down. There was a carriage straight down the middle where the track passed through. The stallion put the bloodstained visor down over his face, placed his forehooves against the metal support and dug his hind hooves into the floor. The tram broke off the track, grinding downwards through the road.

The tram and the carriage collided, the former bursting through the latter and grinding to a halt. Thorn’s hind hooves forced the floor plate loose, making him drop down a few inches. His forehooves left deep dents in the support, having several of the bolts keeping it attached to the ceiling fly off. The shock absorbers on his hooves hissed and broke off. He climbed up all the way into the car and stumbled outside, having to stop and lean against it while he raised his visor and breathed. The stallion bent down and began to hack and gurgle, his stomach growling and a hoof raised to his chest. After a few seconds of struggling, he took deep breaths and flexed his neck, taking slow, unsteady steps into the harbor grounds.

Most of the surroundings were covered in the luminous green synapse, smaller objects showing a rare pattern of green tendrils, while buildings, vendor stands and abandoned boats housed full sized growths complete with cocoons. Moving past the barricaded section and into the long stretch of paved street lined with souvenir shops, cafes and potted palm trees, Thorn unfolded his shield. Groups of changelings flocked near the bigger growths, filling the harbor with persistent buzzing and clicking.

The changelings closest to the green mass inside the shop’s interior stood still with their mouths open wide, some kneeling down with their heads submerged into the green synapse. The ones furthest from the thicker parts of the growth paced back and forth, panting, twitching and dripping greenish saliva from their fangs. The trooper slowly passed them by, his armor clanging against the paved ground, shield leg half-raised.

None of the changelings showed any interest in him, even when he quickened his pace, heading straight down the paved road to the cyan smoke signaling the refinery. He passed dozens of changelings gathering around the cocoons, with the only ones to register his presence being a small number of badly mangled drones trying to crawl towards the nearest growth. Thorn dispatched them whenever they tried swiping at him, smashing their heads in with the shield.

“Food… Sun and Moon, we’re all just food to you, aren’t we?” the trooper muttered under his breath. “Animals.” He stomped on a dead drone that lay sprawled nearby, coating his hoof in thick green goop.

The trooper bashed through a pile of rubble placed in the middle of the beach-side path he had been following. He winced, watching a motionless, limp body of a pony fall face down on the pavement with a wet smack. It was an earthen stallion, covered in both blood and green synapse. Stains and trails of dried out synapse covered much of the ground beyond the barrier, with occasional pieces of chitin littered all over, still dissolving into green mush.

The communications bead in his ear started up once he neared the next growth. The quiet beeping and whistling got more sporadic, jumping up and down in volume, forming incoherent patterns. He grit his teeth and smacked the bead through his helmet, decreasing the volume. Loud chittering and screeching became audible - both far behind him, and in front. In addition to the changeling noises coming from ahead, there were sharp electric crackles and low growling of flame. One of the cafes caught fire, engulfing the cocoons peeking out its windows. The noises coming from the bead picked up for a moment before settling back down to a much weaker level of interference.

“Mages...” Thorn said to himself. He lifted his shield leg up and stomped it on the ground. “Comm clearing, they gotta be.”

The stallion trotted towards the closest growth, which took up most of a mid-sized sail cruiser roped to a nearby pier. The interference got louder and more consistent the closer he got to it. He bit his lip and nodded before taking a running start off the pier.

Thorn leaped and landed on the boat, cracking parts of the deck and toppling over one of the changelings. His landing also squashed a couple of the bulbous tendrils sprouting from the growth. The vessel rocked, scattering the ones that weren’t feeding directly off the center. The fallen changelings twitched and scrambled on the deck, beginning to growl and pant, while the ones in the middle slowly ejected their maws from the green synapse and flailed their hooves around, green goo smeared all over their snouts.

Thorn ran his shoulder into a nearby changeling before it was able to get up, cracking its chitin into bits. Swinging his shield back rapidly, he bashed another waking changeling, nearly splitting it in two. His shield leg came down hard on the fallen body, coating the trooper in another layer of green and delivering enough force to rock the boat. Thorn tensed up and kept himself stable, ramming forward when the boat was on a downward angle, plowing through three changelings at once, flinging the last one off the boat and into the water.

None of the others that remained got back up, being crushed by the trooper’s armored hooves. The bead continued to whistle and beep at the same rate, only spiking whenever he would burst a chitinous tumor on one of the tendrils. The tendrils ran off the boat and into the water, some ending back up on the shore and turning into thin green lines that lead to other growths, while others stayed underwater, illuminating the sandy floor. Thorn spent a minute going around and taking his shield to each tumor within view.

He was nearly done when the captain’s quarters door flung open, and another changeling waddled into him. Thorn turn around in time to take it head on, staying on his hooves when it pounced. It was a synaptic, fading in and out of its forms, its jagged horn spitting out sparks. The synaptic’s eyes were blank like the other changelings’, but cyan instead of green. Its pupils shrunk down and did not move even as it wrestled with the trooper, aiming for his neck with the jagged ends of its forehooves. Thorn kept it away long enough to gain enough space for a headbutt, which knocked the synaptic off him. He rolled over to where it landed and pressed his own forehooves against its face, crushing through the slightly thicker chitin. His hooves connected with the synaptic’s face at the moment when it faded into its pony appearance, a sunburnt pegasus stallion with a sharp white beard, a white beret and a pipe sticking out of his mouth. The beret and the pipe dissolved into sizzling green synapse while Thorn rushed to get back up and look away, shaking his head and taking deep breaths.

The interference decreased even further with the synaptic’s death. Now the whistling patterns were letting through occasional syllables. When he made his way off the pier and continued down the harbor, the connection improved even further, signaled by a series of loud screeches and flashes. Trotting onward to the nearest growth on the way to the mages, the trooper tapped the bead again, setting it into transmit mode.

“Can anyone hear me? This is Shield Corporal Thorn Coat, Defense Company Second Squad,” he spoke loudly, enunciating. “Repeat, can anyone hear me? Anyone in this area— no, no good.”

Thorn gulped and looked back, seeing a smaller changeling horde continuing down the harbor, only a few dozen drones and runners. Larger crowds were gathered around the growths he had passed by. The sounds coming from the bead remained undecipherable, though less distorted. The stallion lowered his head and took a deep breath before heading toward a souvenir shop bustling with radiant cyan cocoons.

He charged through the door, crushing figurines and badges that lay scattered all over the floor. The growth was located behind the cashier’s desk, taking up the entire height of the back wall and spreading its tendrils through the whole store, breaking through planks and wrapping around wooden beams. Smaller green tumors formed on the long shelves, tearing through the fabric of shirts, absorbing cups and keychains. Changelings shambled down the lines, mouths open wide and drooling. Some lay on the floor, grasping the tendrils and pushing their faces up against the tumors.

Thorn kicked his hooves and rammed his way forward to the growth, stomping through the drones on the floor and tackling the ones walking down the aisle. He skidded to a halt before colliding with the thick green synapse. The couple of changelings he picked up with his charge flew into it and got stuck, immediately downing their heads into the oozing liquid as soon as they could move. Thorn flexed his neck and looked around, squinting at a staff only door left untouched by the growth. Having shoved away a half dozen feeding drones and squashed a multitude of tumors, he reached the door, with the noises coming from the bead rising in intensity once again. He turned his back to the door and bucked it out. As the door fell on the floor, the bead emitted a clear voice:

“Can anyone hear me?” a stallion said. Thorn opened his mouth before yelping and rolling off to the side, his armor clanging against the souvenirs littered all over the floor. A bright cyan bolt passed through where he just was.

The trooper grit his teeth, leaning against a shelf to get back on his hooves, toppling it onto the drones on the other side. A synaptic walked out of the room, stumbling on rigid hooves and shaking all over, glowing green synapse bubbling in his mouth, which itself shone a bright cyan. It took a sharp breath before uttering the phrase out again, using Thorn’s own voice. Its fizzling horn lit up, and Thorn dove into the synaptic, dodging the bolt that seared through multiple lines of shelves and scorched through a drone’s flank. The flash that followed was brighter and lasted longer.

The trooper’s helmet collided with a hard object, making him fall lose his balance and drop down on the floor as the changeling stumbled back. The stallion backed down just as a tower shield came crashing down where his head used to be. He looked up and saw himself staring back with pinprick eyes.

“Sweet Celestia…” he muttered. The changeling copied the rest of him a second later before striking out with the shield. Thorn raised his own, ending up being pushed into the shelf with the impact.

He charged into the synaptic from where he had been pushed into, but was thrown off course and into another shelf when it stomped with its shield leg. While the stallion recovered, the changeling emitted a loud scream in his voice, and its horn lit up once again. The scream continued, occasionally interlaced with clicks and chitters. All the remaining drones roaming the shop and feeding off the growth stopped in their tracks and threw their heads back, echoing the scream. The whistling and screeching from the bead rose back to the loudest it had been. Thorn groaned and pushed up against his ears through the helmet, falling down on the floor. He rose back up shortly thereafter when the scream ended. The entire room was filled with ES/AS troopers.

Thorn’s double pointed its free hoof at him, and over a dozen earth ponies, pegasi and unicorns went after the stallion himself. Each of them appeared to have wounds on their heads and chests, some of them bled blood that vapored into green smoke before hitting the floor, some others lacking parts of their equipment or bodies, like safety straps on the pegasi or pupils on the unicorns. ‘DC-2’ was marked on each one’s armor - the shieldbearers’ shoulders, the air fighters’ sides and the unicorns’ chests.

“ You… you…” the trooper said. He lowered his head and sucked air in through clenched teeth. “You FUCKING ANIMALS.”

He took off with a roar, smashing into the air fighter that was throwing itself at him. Even after plowing through the changeling, which fizzled back to its real form after cracking its neck against the stallion’s shoulder, Thorn kept going, throwing the lighter armored troopers around as he went. A shieldbearer stood in his way, blocking the aisle he had been ramming through, its shield planted firmly into the wooden floor. The stallion ran straight into it, smashing his shield into the the changeling’s.

The floorboards cracked and the changeling got pushed back, losing balance long enough for Thorn to walk straight over it, simulated armor creaking under his weight. He delivered a heavy buck with his hind leg after jumping down, leaving a light dent on the helmet that was accompanied by a wet crack. The shieldbearer opened the dead trooper’s slack-jawed, blood-covered mouth and emitted a pony scream that transitioned into a fading chitter. Thorn squashed the changeling’s chitinous head in with his shield once it lost the visage.

He growled and yelled, kicking his hooves against the floor and spreading spittle over the approaching changelings. A unicorn fired off a sharp white projectile, which the stallion took on his shield, before burying the shimmering icy spike in another air fighter’ disfigured face. A shielder approached from the side, swiping with the shield and getting Thorn to stagger into a shelf. He caught himself on his own shield and bounced back, knocking the changeling off its hooves. Rising over the changeling, he spun to face a pouncing fighter and headbutted it out of the air. His helmet smashed through the simulated aviator cap and glasses, which vaporized shortly after the changeling dropped down on the floor with a gaping crack in its forehead. Its insides pulsated cyan for a moment before decreasing into a green glow.

Thorn screamed and raised his shield, pointing at the remaining changelings wearing trooper visages. Several other unicorns fired off projectiles in his direction. While screaming, he took an icicle to an armor plate on his flank, several flaming bolts narrowly missing his head. He charged off towards the nearest unicorn, stomping on the shieldbearer’s visor, enough to make it bleed luminous cyan and change out of its visage. The unicorns were yet to fire again when he closed the distance.

The masked mage kicked its hooves, which nearly broke in half when Thorn ended his charge with an uppercut, smashing the top of the shield through the hooves and into the changeling’s chin. Liquid splashed out the back of its head, turning from red to pulsating cyan as it splattered on the souvenirs. Its body got attached to the shield by a gash at the bottom of its lower jaw, allowing Thorn to move it around to absorb a wave of flaming projectiles. The liquid it was bleeding turned a dimmer green soon after its death.

The stallion smashed his head against the burning dead changeling hanging off the shield, leaving only a chunk of chitin. Jumping over the flaming, bubbling synapse, he galloped for the flamecasters. They split up, leaving him to run into a wall. Both of them threw their heads back and began to shudder, their horns channeling bright red auras. Thorn snarled and threw himself at the changeling behind him, knocking it off its legs and crouching next to it with his shield extended. The other one fired off its projectile, which got absorbed by the shield.

The crystallized material of the trooper’s shield turned a light pink, plates cracking and hissing. He yelped, banging on the shield with a free leg, folding it down. Growling and spreading bloody spittle all over, he turned to the changeling on the floor next to him and smacked the Captain’s blank-eyed face with the overheated shield attachment until he was hitting the floor. The device’s connection weakened, and he finished it off by hitting himself on the helmet, breaking the hot piece of armor entirely, leaving it to smoke on the floor. The heated up exterior caused a small fire, which died out before reaching a pile of posters on the floor. There still was smoke and heat filling the shop, with crackling of fire being audible among the breaking of wood and souvenirs, distorted changeling noises, Thorn’s growling breaths and his own voice screaming out incoherent words near the growth.

The stallion pushed away a pegasus that attempted to reach for him and sped towards the synaptic. It stayed still with its shield leg planted into the floor, the other raised in the air, the empty space above the helmet sparkling with cyan and green energy, as did its wide-open eyes and mouth. The synaptic’s slit pupils widened sporadically, stuck staring into the distance. They only began to move when the stallion neared in, kicking away a large statue that fell in the way. The changeling grunted in Thorn’s voice, putting its leg down and moving to get behind the shield. It replicated one of his growls when the trooper crossed the remaining distance in a heavy leap, grabbing the side of the shield with both his forehooves and yanking it to the side, resulting in an audible crack. The synaptic’s shield leg hung off at a twisted sideways angle.

Thorn moved in closer before it reacted, putting forehooves on its chest and pushing it down. When it resisted, he floored it by bashing his head into its snout, breaking his double’s nose. The changeling grit its teeth and growled, glaring into Thorn’s eyes, banging with its armored leg against his chest. The stallion took in a deep breath and shouted in its face, covering it in spittle and blood.

The changeling replicated the sound, turning it into a distorted high-pitched screech when Thorn grabbed the broken shield leg and began to stomp at the section that bled faintly cyan blood. The synaptic writhed and bucked underneath him, continuing to flail its intact leg, but it stopped and contorted in a Thorn-like howl when the stallion’s assault resulted in a much louder, wet crack.

He turned back to face the synaptic, who drooled simulated blood and leaked fake tears out his widened, bloodshot eyes. The shape of its horn faded in and out as it sparkled, momentarily lighting up before resetting. Thorn leaned in further, spilling bloody drool on his double’s broken nose, and put his hooves into a lock before bringing them down where the horn was meant to be. The changeling let out a shrill cry after the first hit connected, and after the second, pieces of chitin detached themselves from the horn, leaving it fully visible. The stallion let out a deep, raspy laugh, coughing in between cackles.

Smacking the changeling across its face and pressing it down with a hoof, Thorn bent down and bit into the horn. His teeth chipped into the fragile sections of the chitin left after it had been beaten in. The stallion thrashed its mouth rapidly, moving the horn back and forth until one of the larger cracks began to grow. Soon thereafter, most of the horn came off. Wielding it in his mouth, he raised his head and put his hoof away from the changeling. It bled half-cyan synapse blood.

“Fucking... ANI-” it began to gurgle out in his voice before being smacked again.

Thorn stared into its eyes for a second, while the changeling made no effort to move, staring back. With a muffled scream, the stallion brought the horn down, stabbing it into the changeling’s eyeball. Blood and synapse shot out in a high pressure stream. Screaming, laughing and coughing, Thorn hammered against the stem of the horn, bringing the tip deeper into his double’s head. More liquid spurted out with each strike. By the fifth strike, all the simulated blood became cyan synapse.

By the seventh, it faded to green. Thorn stopped hitting it once the stem reached the changeling’s eye socket.

He panted and wheezed, sweat trickling off his face onto the mashed mass of synapse and chitin beneath him. He breathed in a puff of smoke and began to cough. Blinking and tearing up, Thorn looked around the shop. The second flamecaster lay dead on the floor, scorched and contorted, spreading another small fire. Voices of ponies became audible, as the noises coming from the bead in his ear gave way to a steady low hum.

There was a crackle of electricity, and a shielder flew through a display case, shattering a golden globe. It returned to its changeling form before hitting the floor, spreading chunks of chitin and entire limbs around on impact. Some of the corpses were contorted and scorched, whereas others had deep cuts and gashes. There were dead changelings closer to the entrance, where both doors were laying flat off their hinges. The outside displays had been broken through.

Thorn rose back to his legs, shaking all over. He put a forehoof against the counter, and covered his mouth with the other, spraying blood over his synapse-stained, lightly burned coat. The trooper paused for a coughing fit. His head hung low and his lips moved silently when he stopped coughing, slowly walking forward. He stopped and staggered back when an armored equine emerged from behind a burning shelf.

The torch on its shoulder flashed in Thorn’s eyes. He shut his eyes and hung his head, exhaling and coughing sharply.

“You don’t look like a bug,” the equine said in a female voice. Her voice was muffled, coming from behind a lowered visor and a respirator. “You’re the one who’s been helping us out, right?”

“Yeah. I’m—” Thorn wiped away tears leaking from his reddening eyes. “Hold on. I’m not being fooled by—”

The mare waved a hoof and nodded her head in his direction. A unicorn and an earth pony in white and red armor joined her.

“Calm it, calm it, Corporal! We’re friendlies. I’m Lieutenant Dust Trail, shield duty. This is my brother, Lieutenant Ash Mead, he’s our shock mage. We’re DC-1. Met before deploying today, remember?” the mare asked, taking a step closer. She was dark green with blonde hair underneath her helmet, some strands stuck to her forehead. The unicorn next to her was the exact same colors, with a much shorter mane, and a large bruise giving half his face a blue tint. “This is Specialist Bitter Leaf, Ghost Wolves, first squad. You should let him take a look at you, he’s a medic.” The trooper in red and white armor, a grey earth stallion with a deep cut on his cheek, raised his buckler hoof. “There’s Lieutenant Redmane outside, he’s been helping us clear out the infestation, and then we’ve got—You get the point, right? These bugs aren’t smart enough to drag all that out of your brain, Thorn.” He exhaled and nodded. “Did anyone else-”

“Just me.”

“Shit…” the unicorn said, shaking his head. “I liked those guys.”

“Met them yesterday...” Thorn mumbled, looking down.

“We volunteered to clear out the comms. The smarter bugs were doing something to them, heck if we know what.” The mare approached Thorn. Her armor was damaged, missing pieces, as was her shield, the remains staying folded on the attachment. There were splatters of synapse and scratches all over her suit. Bruises and small cuts covered her face. “You helped out a lot. I saw you stomping out their feeding lots, good work figuring it out. Can you walk?”

“I think so.” Thorn’s knees buckled. His cheeks puckered, and a loud gulp came from his throat as he pushed a hoof against his mouth. He had a coughing fit moments later.

“Are you alright?” the stallion in white and red spoke up. The sterilizing mask covering up his mouth was stained with red and green splatters. “Corporal?”

Thorn closed his eyes and got down on his hooves, shaking in place. His teeth clattered. Breathing heavily, he removed his helmet, letting it fall down on the floor. He slowly sat down, placing his back against an intact wall, and pressed hooves against his temples.

“No,” he mumbled.

“No, no you’re not… Move him out of here, get him back to base.” The medical trooper extended a hoof in Thorn’s direction. He got up on his own. The shield mare and the mage rushed over to his sides, supporting him on the way to the exit while he shook his head. “Red, get this one over with,” Bitter Leaf called out.

The stallion dropped out of the other two troopers’ grasp once they made it outside, falling down on the grass in front of the souvenir shop and taking in deep, wheezing breaths. The waterfront was being taken over by a spreading fire, most of the infestation burning up alongside with the pods. Thorn stared at the fires, breathing quickly.

“They’ve… they’ve got…” he sputtered. “In those cocoons—”

“We know,” a weak male voice answered.

There was another unicorn sitting on a bench by the shop. His red mane was partly singed, and there were numerous black stains on his uniform. The orange stripe that ran down his side was almost entirely covered in synapse, and the wolf’s head picture on his chest was mostly scratched out.

Next to him, an earth pony sat on the bench, facing the ocean, a smokestick dangling out the side of his mouth. Over a dozen more were laying beneath him on the ground. He wore lighter armor, with the same emblem on one of his shoulders.

“They’re unconscious, not—”

“As good as dead,” Red cut him off. “Maybe worse. We were never saving them. They’ve been like this for more than a day now. Their brains are cooked.”

“Not all of them. I saw my Captain in there, we only crashed this afternoon.” Thorn groaned, struggling to get up. His knees buckled again, and the two troopers by his side helped him up. “They’re still adding ponies to these… things. They're using them to charge up centurions, and I don't know what else.”

“Well, shit.” Red shrugged. “That just means it’s even worse than we thought. We knew the centurion part, but... Look, you should—” The unicorn tapped the bead on his ear and mumbled. “Yes, I’m coming. This is the last one, right? I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Taking a deep breath, the unicorn gave the earth pony next to him a pat on the shoulder and went to the shop on stiff legs. He paused, holding his chest and hacking up a small piece of vomit, before entering.

“We’ll explain everything back at the holdout,” Dust Trail said, pointing to the heart-shaped domes of the refinery. “It’s a real mess.”

They walked past the other trooper on the bench, whose blonde mane was covered in blood. His eyes stared off into the horizon, obscured by cyan smoke. He hardly moved, safe for his chest when he breathed. He gave no reaction when Ash and Dust sat Thorn down on the other end of the bench.

“Red and Leaf will see that the feeder is right, pop all the bubbles, and be here in a bit. Don't mind him, he's...” Dust said. “He's going to need some help walking back. Red pulled him out, but... Any heavy stuff the medics carry is used up, but we should still have something to keep you in one piece.”

Thorn covered himself up, smearing synapse over his snout and blood over his hoof. After lowering it, he took a deep breath and observed the area.

Behind the bench and all throughout the area he crossed before entering the souvenir shop, there were fried, bludgeoned and cut up bodies of changelings. At least a dozen mostly intact bodies, with many having been reduced to malformed chunks of chitin. Far in the distance, on the other side of the harbor, a centurion's loud hissing and screaming accompanied bursts of fire being visible through cracks in the streets and alleys.

“City's been overrun for just a few days, and they already have centurions popping out. Sweet Celestia, we're in such shit... Any longer and they'll start being able to control them, too." He looked down at his hooves and sighed. His eyes turned to the field of bodies by the shop. "These, though... They were after me,” the stallion said, nodding at the corpses. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You did good. Real good,” Dust Trail replied. “We thought the second squad was all gone.”

“I got lucky.”

“I’ve seen you fight, dude. You’re a murder machine. We were afraid to walk up to you while you were killing that synaptic,” Ash Mead said, smiling. His smile held for a moment before fading away. “Who am I kidding. This isn’t luck. This is fucked. I won’t sleep for weeks.”

The unicorn looked at a burning coast guard building a short distance down the road to the refinery. It flew a ‘CHANGELINGS WELCOME’ banner, which remained untouched by the fire. The popping sounds the cocoons made as they burned came back to the bench with a light echo. A strong smell of ozone and burned flesh permeated the waterfront.

“Me neither,” Thorn whispered and yawned. He spat, sweat and blood triсkling into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he passed out, falling on the ground.

***

San Franciscolt Euphorium Refinery - 1:25 AM

The ceiling fans filled the lounge with a low racket. D-Company and Ghost Wolves troopers occupied most parts of it, safe for a corner where discarded armor and shields were placed. Thorn gulped down a soft drink from a vending machine that had been broken open, and got himself on all fours. With increasingly steady steps, he left the corner where the wounded were placed, laying on mats, propped up by the couch cushions and any other soft objects that could be found.

The blonde earth pony stayed there, still staring ahead, ignoring Redmane, who remained at his side. A brown pegasus with a broken wing and a burn over half his face attempted to rise after Thorn got up, but only moaned in pain and grabbed his wing, staying down in the end.

Thorn passed by the pool table, where DC-1 members played cards, improvised out of sheets from a notebook. He kept his forelegs pressed against the bandages on his stomach and sides. The rest lounge’s wide paned windows opened up a view at the refinery’s work hall. He looked the emptied out tanks and the luminous green spills on the floor. Numerous containers were missing entire sides. The carcass of a huge, whale-like changeling creature, was melting down in the intake pool.

“So you’re not joking,” he spoke up. His jaw moved slowly. “This was… They thought this was okay?”

“Yeah. The medics looked through the papers. Turns out the way she ‘improved’ this joy was by making it go through an actual, real, living changeling. So they needed a big one.” Ash Mead banged the window he stood by with his flank. “I can’t believe it either. I thought that when they told us to take the proxies alive, even though the smart ones used them to take over fuck knows how many drones, it was to make new weapons. Look at this! They’re shitting out juice for these bugs to feel happy!”

“I’ve never… Luna and Celestia, how did they not see this coming?” Thorn buried his face in his bandaged hooves. “Of course the juice this thing puts out wasn’t what the Princess designed.”

The unicorn went silent. A moment later, he began to laugh. Starting with a peal of sharp cackles, he finished with a series of ‘ha’s.

“That’s what we thought.” He looked Thorn in the eyes.

The earth pony’s mouth hung open. He furrowed his brows, straining the bandage on the side of his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Euphorium still works exactly as it was intended to. Twilight Sparkle made it to simulate the sensation a pony feels when doing something with their special talent. Changelings feed on love, and since they got Princess Cadence killed, romantic love was not an option. This was her workaround,” Bitter Leaf spoke up, walking up to the windows. He took a long look at Thorn, motioning for him to move his head. He did so, showing the bandages that covered most of his forehead and temples. The medic nodded and continued: “She kept saying this would help them adapt to pony society, and in theory, it should have. Some of them did, in fact. It was fine while it was produced in New Canterlot under her supervision… And this was her trying to put out more, better joy. Even with this thing dead, she may have more stashed away. At least they're relatively harmless on their own.”

“There were procedures in place to hand out doses of euphorium to registered, well-behaving bugs, but…” Ash hung his head and kicked the floor. “She didn’t think to call us. Bad publicity, the changelings are afraid of us, boo-hoo.” He kicked the floor again and yelped, keeping his hind leg raised. Bitter Leaf glared at the unicorn.

“San Franciscolt must have looked good. The most changeling-friendly city of them all,” the medic said. “The highest official population since the Pact, a lot of sympathy among the common ponies-”

“What was she thinking?..” Thorn drawled, rubbing his hooves. He gasped and whined, sliding down the back of the couch. “They’ve been moaning that we haven’t been giving them enough for years. They stormed it, didn’t they? Strong synaptics controlled weaker ones, those gathered drones into mobs, and then they rushed the security… and take over the city.”

“No.” Ash chuckled and let out a deep, long sigh. “It was worse. This is San Franciscolt, Thorn. The changelings didn’t even get to the refinery before all the fanatical heartbleeders did the job for them. Broke in, beat the Royal Guard with their plastic armor and toy spears, and stole all they could to hand it out to all the poor, needy changelings.”

“Fuck me…” Thorn whispered. “They were the first to get put into those cocoons, weren’t they?”

There was a short period of silence. Ash left, heading for the vending machine. Bitter Leaf sat down on the couch next to Thorn. The conversations the other troopers were having maintained a level of ambient noise.

“About those ponies…” the grey stallion spoke up. He hung his head. “We thought they could be saved, too. These synaptic growths they leave around, they leave behind these... tumors. Looks like that's how they eat when they go feral and no one tells them to spy.”

“Get to the point,” Thorn muttered.

“Right. The Princess messed up worse than she thought. I hope that me and the other medics are wrong, but from all we could tell… They were gone. All that was left was…” He gulped and put a hoof over his face. “Twilight Sparkle never thought what would happen if a pony tasted euphorium. All previous releases had some degree of control to them, and it was always a minor dose - if a pony did taste some, it would feel funny. Some got their changeling friends to help make homebrews, of course they did. You know the basics, it’s why there is an actual crime scene in Equestria right now. And why Twilight must have thought she had to do this.”

“So?”

“So, now it’s not just a drink, or a pill, that makes you feel good for a few minutes. Now it’s got so much potency that it can scorch your brain out if you overdose. Or, if you’re a changeling, to make you…” Bitter Leaf turned away and shook his head. “Go feral. Like back in Canterlot. Only you keep your brains - you know you need to eat. You don't kill everything you see. You're dangerous."

Thorn did not reply, instead getting off the couch and walking outside of the lounge. The pastel pink and blue hanging corridors of the refinery were dimly crystal-lit and mostly empty. The chairs and notice boards had been taken out, forming the barricade at the main entrance, visible down below, where signs of battle still remained. The stallion put his hooves over the railings, looking over the foyer directly below the corridors. Pieces of Royal Guard armor were visible among the debris, glinting in the crystal light.

Moving onward, he approached the lounge’s service balcony. The door was half opened. Thorn pulled it open, revealing Ash and Dust. The mare sat on her haunches, breathing heavily, while the stallion paced around, grinding his teeth.

“Hey, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Did something happen? Is our extraction delayed?”

“Something happened, alright,” Ash said. “We had another message come in half an hour ago.”

“What is it?”

“Evac is fine, once they’re done blasting the city.” Dust shrugged. “But we’ve gone rogue. No more Emergency Situation Assistance Squads. We’re moving on the attack now.” She threw her head back and stared at the smoke-covered sky. “That’s what General Panther Claw said.”

“D-Company and Ghost Wolves command have given the go-ahead,” the unicorn added.

“...” Thorn’s body hit the wall to his side, his stubble scraping against the surface. One of his bandages shifted, spilling a light trinkle of blood. His jaw dropped.

“Yeah… just like that. No idea how to put to the others.” Ash chuckled and hiccupped. He lifted a can off the floor and gulped it down, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it off the balcony once he was done. “Fuck, I’m scared.”

“Me too. Like… they’re right. San Franciscolt was going to be a changeling hive if not for us. It’s all their fault. But I just don’t know...” Dust waved her hooves in the air and put them up against her face. “I haven’t felt this bad since the Crystal Empire.”

“Is… is it an order?” Thorn asked. He got himself away from the wall and stumbled over to the front of the balcony.

“They said you’re free to leave if you aren’t sticking with them. That they aren’t monsters, like the changelings. They only want loyal fighters,” the mare explained. “Apparently. That’s what was said.”

The stallion hung his head and breathed in deep. He tapped his hoof against the rail. Half a minute later, he bounced off the rail and walked over to the door.

“You know what… Screw it. I was never going to go on another mission after this. I don’t care. I’m leaving after evac.” Thorn began to hyperventilate. Beads of sweat ran down his face. He turned around before crossing the corner. “Why be afraid? We were fucked either way. Go tell them how it is.”

He went down the corridor to the forepony’s office, butting open the door and sitting down on the chair. The rest of the furniture had been taken out, only the bolted in chair and several consoles remaining. Whimpering and gasping for breath, Thorn smacked buttons at random, none of them working.

“So this is where we're at. This is what it's come to. Celestia, why is everything such shit now?” He gulped down a sniffle. “I'm done.”

The stallion leaned against the back of the chair and looked at his bandaged hooves. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. Half an hour later, the shouting coming from the lounge died down.

When the shielded carrier cage arrived another hour later, Ash and Dust were in the forepony's office with Thorn. Red joined them in the cage itself, carrying the wounded earth stallion with him. The ponies shared smokesticks before being picked up by the search and rescue troopers.

September 4th, 1009 AN
101 Ocean View Street, “Mended Moods” - 7:28 PM
Carol City, Equestria

Thorn walked into the bar and squinted, adjusting to the low lighting within. An aging pink pegasus in a plain black shirt beckoned him over to a secluded table by a window. Shaking his head at an approaching waitress, the white stallion approached the pegasus and sat down on the other side of the table.

“Glad you could make it,” Vice said, putting a smokestick in his mouth. “Want one?”

“No need.”

“Alright. Feeling fine?”

“I’ll live. Don’t need to wear bandages anymore. It still hurts here and there, but I wasn’t injured that seriously.” The earth pony fiddled with an empty glass that stood on the table. “I had a few concussions, but that was it.”

“I can see you’re tough. And smart. And you happen to live in the area.” The pegasus put a hoof on the table and leaned in. He smiled at Thorn. “That’s why I hope you’re seriously considering my proposition.”

The earth stallion hummed and rubbed the thick stubble that covered most of his face. One of his hind legs tapped against the floor.

“Are you that sure, mister Vice?” he asked. “Is it really going to be such a big deal that I was part of ES/AS? Because it’s-”

“Kid, please, don’t fool me - or yourself. You spent two weeks in the hospital, there’s no way you weren’t keeping up with the news. I know they’ve got those fancy videodromes installed there for patients to watch.” The police pony looked straight into his eyes. “I doubt lying in bed all day is very entertaining. You’ve seen the headlines.”

“Well, I have, kind of… I wasn’t following the news all that much.”

“Don't be dense. You were right - there was no covering this one up. And I think you'll understand why I said it would have been better to hush it all up.” Vice cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "‘Equestria’s Bulwark Turns Against Us’. ‘Emergency Situation Assistance Squads Disbanded After Quarter of Troopers Rebel’. ‘All Urban Crime Skyrockets After Riot Forces Betray Equestria’. ‘Pact Citizens Experience Peak Unhappiness, Demand Action.’ And these are the shiny ones.” The older stallion’s wings shuffled. His eye twitched. “ ‘Advisors Predict Twilight Sparkle to Dismiss High Council after ES/AS Fiasco’. ‘Rogue ES/AS Units Suspected of Sabotage’. ‘San Franciscolt Not Inhabitable After ES/AS Terror Purge, Refugees Bemoan "Saviors" ’. Want me to keep going?”

“I get the picture,” Thorn answered, crossing his forehooves on the table. "Everyone's lost it."

Vice beckoned over a waitress and pointed at a few entries in the soft drinks part of the menu. Thorn undid the collar buttons of his shirt and reached for the window, puffing his nostrils when the handle refused to budge.

“You’ll cool down after a drink or two. Old Maroon isn’t the best, but it works.”

“Sorry, don’t drink.”

“Well, that would make talking shop a little dull.” Vice raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “So, do I have your attention?”

“It looks like this is my only shot at getting a job anytime soon, so yes.” Thorn looked up. He chewed on bits of his overgrown stubble. “What are you proposing?”

“First of all, I’m proposing that you give yourself a shave,” the pegasus smiled, leaning into the back of his seat. “You look like a yak. Keep a moustache if you want to get more comfortable with the job.”

“Noted.”

“Second, I’m proposing you get that rod out of your ass and live a little. These years are pretty bad, but we’re not lacking for entertainment, especially not here. Go to a disco, listen to some music, try out cocktails, pick up a girl, or whichever you prefer.” He looked away, tracing a waitress that walked past their table. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not talking out of my ass. Why are there night clubs on every street? Why does every other mare look like she fell into liquid rainbow? Why do you think we’ve got artists-so-called popping out all this beep-boop they call music these days? Why do all those lowlives hunt for cheap homebrew joy, even if it’s literal roach spit?” The older stallion leaned in and looked straight at Thorn, the wrinkles around his cheekbones tightening. “Every last one of us is wound tight. Either you go loose on your own terms, or… well, you get me.”

“...I guess.”

Vice shrugged again, nodded and smiled. The waitress came over, putting down a tray with two glasses of whiskey. The police pony pulled his over and took a sip.

“This sounds pretty lenient,” Thorn said. He rubbed his hooves against the glass, twirling it in place. “What is the catch?”

“Third. I’m a good boss, so long as you do what I need you to. As you can see, all I want from you is to be a reasonable equine being while you work for me. That, and one more thing…” His eyes scanned the surroundings. Thorn took a quick glance at a table where the pegasus’ eyes lingered. Two old griffons, a magpie and an albatross, sat there, playing chess. “We talked back at San Fran. I won’t mince words - I don’t like where this place is going, either. I don’t know why you decided to leave ES/AS, but I’m glad to have you with me, because I’m not sitting by while we rot. Your connections are going to be very useful one day. I already have a few friends that can help push things along, but having someone who can reach out to these guys…”

“So, one day, you’ll want to call in a favor?”

“That’s all I ask of you. Loosen up, move on with your life, do as I tell you to, don’t do as I don’t tell you to, and we’re golden.” The older pegasus smiled, his wrinkles tightening. He tilted his head. “Drink it.”

Thorn exhaled and gulped down his whiskey in one go, grunting as the liquid passed down his throat. He gasped and coughed, banging against the table with a hoof. His eyes went out of focus for a second.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?”

The stallion spent a minute regaining his breath. He chewed on his lip and propped his chin up with a hoof. Eventually, he burped, failing to cover his mouth on time.

“There you go.” Vice nodded. “So, what do you say?”

“I… I got something I’d like to ask, too,” Thorn slowly spoke up with a slight drawl.

“Go ahead.”

“Just… give me a desk job. I don’t want nothing fancy. Have me sort files or something. I don’t…” The earth pony hiccuped. “I don’t want action.”

“Hm.” The old pegasus paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure. You’ll play a different tune on your second day, I’m sure. You don’t join the ES/AS with a pencil pushing cutiemark.”

Thorn paused. He raised his head and stared into Vice’s eyes. They sat in silence, neither of them blinking, for a minute. Eventually, Thorn lowered his head and looked at his forehooves that lay on the table.

“I got mine when I was six. Me and the guys played hoofball. One of them… don’t remember who… cheated. Kicked the ball right past me when he was outside the field.” The earth pony’s voice ceased to quiver and drawl. He took in rare, deep breaths. “I ran up to him and kicked him in the face. We were going to have a fight, and then they saw I got my cutiemark.”

“Well… I can certainly see why you ended up where you did. You’re not making a good case for yourself, though.” The pegasus puckered his lips and drew his eyes away before continuing. “If you want to know, I got mine for telling on that one kid everyone copied their homework from. It felt like the right thing to do.”

“Yeah. The right thing to do. What we’re… meant to do. As ponies.” Thorn paused. “When’s the last time you felt it?”

“That’s a silly question.” Vice smiled. “You feel that all the time when you’re in the right line of work. I’m not so bad that I need joy like the bugs or the lowlifes.”

"Lowlifes. Bugs. Look at all this... All our special talents. All that kept us together. This, this unity of ours. Try to find a way to feel that feeling again in all this, like how it was when the Princesses were alive, when there were no changelings... I know I'm not the only one who feels this." The white stallion called a waitress over and pointed at the same portion of the menu.

When she retreated, he shut his eyes and buried his face in his hooves.

"What're you leading to, kid?"

"The feeling. That feeling when you feel alive, like you're doing what you're meant to." Thorn took a deep breath and opened his face up, looking Vice in the eyes. "Look around, and try to imagine any of these ponies had it... this month, I don't know."

"Now, you gotta know most of these are probably not even ponies," he replied, chuckling.

“I’ve felt it once in the past five years,” Thorn said. “Do you know what I was doing?”

“What was it, Thorn?” Vice asked.

“I was tearing my squad apart in San Fran. Bones breaking, necks cracking, heads popping, blood everywhere…” The earth pony slowly raised his head, staring at the pegasus with widened irises. “I gouged my own eye out. It felt right.”

“...those were changelings, though, weren’t they?”

“I didn’t care at the time.”

Vice opened his mouth, but then closed it without saying anything. His eyes darted over to the table with the griffons another time. The pegasus scratched his chin and exhaled, looking up at Thorn.

Smiling gently, he tapped his hooves on the table and checked his wallet.

“Put all your drinks on my tab. For good. You’ll come around quick.” The police pony extended his hoof across the table. “Welcome to the force, Thorn Coat. I see nothing but good things for you, kid. Let’s make Equestria a better place.”

FINAL CHAPTER: Exodus. END OF WRONG ADDRESS.

May 29th, 1013 AN - 12:05 PM
New Canterlot, Equestria

The chair creaked, rocking back and forth. A shadow popped onto and off the coldbox as the unicorn rocked along with the chair. Her forehooves rubbed against her eyelids. She let out a long yawn, her jaw locking up at the end. The mare’s gauged ears flicked at the loud whistling of the wind coming through the open window behind her.

Lowering her hooves and opening up her eyes, Handsome whimpered and moaned, shutting them back again. After a few failed attempts, she pushed herself out of the chair, her mouth closing once her legs were on the floor. Squinting tight and stretching out a forehoof, the mare tangled with the curtains. The plastic pull switch broke off on the fourth try, dropping the entire length of the thick pink kitchen curtains down, some of the fabric piling up on the floor. Handsome opened her baggy eyes and exhaled, making her way back to the chair in smothered sunlight.

The mare looked at the pill bottles and drinks piled up on her end of the table. To their side was a plate with a cucumber sandwich, missing a single bite. She let out a drawn-out yawn before propping her cheeks on her forehooves. Her hooves slipped out from underneath her face and under the table, letting her snout droop down into the pile of medicines. Several of the numerous bandages lining her nose had wrinkled up, and the rashes covering the now-empty areas on the rest of her face grew a brighter red. She chewed idly on the corners of her lips, biting at the lipstick residue. Handsome breathed slowly, the skin and coat pushing up against her ribcage with each breath.

“This… suuucks…” the unicorn mumbled.

A strong gust of wind filled up the curtains and created enough force to get the chair to start rocking again. She jolted lightly, the cloth cap around her horn sliding up a little, when there were hoofsteps in the hallway. The door opened, forcing in another heavy gust of wind.

“Handsome? Handsome, have you—” Page cut herself short. “No, you haven’t… How long have you been sitting here for?”

“I dunno.”

“I do - You’ve been sitting here for two hours.” The grey unicorn trotted around the kitchen, her eyes shifting between the pile of medicine and the untouched food. The coldbox door clicked, causing the mare at the table to moan. “You haven’t even finished your sandwich… Ugh, this is not good.”

“Be… quiet. I didn’t sleep well…” Handsome mumbled, pressing her face into the table. “Gimme, gimme some time, just fuck off…”

“Handsome, I’m begging you, get up and do something,” the other mare raised her voice. “She’s coming to check on you, look at yourself, you’re a complete mess! You look half dead!”

“Well maybe I fucking am,” Handsome drawled, pushing against the table with shaky forehooves and managing to lean back against the chair. Her jaw hung off as she took in quick, shallow breaths. “Leave me alone. I don’t wanna do shit.”

“Maybe if you—”

“Quit pushing your luck, four-eyes.” She slowly, unsteadily got herself to stare at the other mare. She took a few steps back as soon as Handsome’s unfocused, half-closed eyes connected. “You know how I can get.”

Handsome sunk back into her chair, rocking it backwards, when a tall bovine figure emerged from the doorway, pushing the grey unicorn aside. The minotaur looked at her and pointed at the door, to which the mare quickly retreated, leaving Handsome alone in the room. She made incoherent noises, waving her hooves and shaking her head, while the minotaur walked past her and tapped the light switch. The crystal bulb erupted with a bright orange glow. The mare shifted in her chair, rubbing her eyes, while the minotaur set her briefcase down on the floor and used it as a seat.

“I can see we are not having much progress with you,” Lockvara said, crossing her arms on the table.

The mare shrugged in response. The minotaur stayed silent for a few seconds. She tilted her head, her blonde braid hanging off. The glasses on her snout glistened with reflected light. Handsome puffed her nostrils and looked away.

“Remember - this was your idea.”

“Yeah, I—” The mare stopped. She squinted and turned to look back at Lockvara. “No... Let’s skip to the point. What do you want from me?”

“A service that requires you to be in a state other than near death. My patience is running thin. If your failure at recovery continues, I am having you placed in a hospital. You cannot take care of yourself, and your history with my assistant makes her incapable of adequately providing you with sustenance and care.” Handsome opened her mouth and rolled her eyes. “You have not eaten. You have not taken medicine. You have not slept either. All in at least two days.”

“What the fuck are you on about?..” the mare said, mushing her eyes with her hooves.

“You have lost all touch with reality.”

“This isn’t right…” Handsome murmured, sliding down the back of the chair. It rocked several times before stopping. “I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

“Understandably so.” The minotaur leaned in and placed her hands palms down on the table. “We should talk.”

The unicorn bit on her lip, shivering as another strong gust of wind blew at the back of her chair. The pink and white strands growing on her scarred, burned scalp flung around in the air. Her ears folded.

“Aight, if you want… One thing, though.” She looked up momentarily before turning away again, talking out the side of her mouth. “I’m fucking dying here. I know what we planned, but like, I can’t go cold yet. You gotta fix me up.”

“I was assuming as much. You do not seem to under…” Lockvara paused. She rubbed her cheek before leaning even closer towards the mare. “What do you think are you going to do once you get euphorium? How are you going to react?”

“I don’t fucking… Like, is this important? I need it to…” Handsome’s eyes met with the glistening lights coming from the minotaur’s glasses. She hung her head. “Yeah, I’ll probably scream, shout, break stuff. Try to kill someone. That’s usually what I do after hitting it.”

“Specify for me, please. This is what you believe your reaction to joy is, is that correct?” The shadowed minotaur raised a finger. “It happens to sound identical to your daily routine up until the past month.”

“The fuck does that matter?”

“Euphorium alters your behavior. Unless you were constantly under the influence for the past five years of your life, there would be a difference between sobriety and intoxication.” Handsome coughed, her eyes staring into the table. “You have been sober at least once before, correct?”

“Yeah, I have. And it fucking sucks. I hate it. I hate being sober.” The mare threw her hooves up in the air. “Look at me! It’s killing me! You wanna know why I don’t eat, why I don’t sleep, why I don’t drink, why I don’t take your stupid meds? I don’t want to! I just sit here, stare at the wall, and tell that four-eyed nerd to fuck off of me!” Her pupils widened. “I left it all behind. Well, I don’t have shit all else to do!”

“You have been getting better.” The minotaur took a notebook out of an inner pocket and looke inside.

“Better? You call this better, you stupid cow?!” Handsome growled, her voice cracking and fading off. Lockvara removed her glasses, took a noisy breath, and massaged the ridges of her eyes. “Why, just because I tore out all the metal in me? Just because I boiled away my ink?”

“You are stretching your boundaries, Handsome.” The minotaur put her glasses back on, squinting at the unicorn. “We assisted you once you made it clear this was our mutual desire.”

“And you think that just because I did all that, I’m better?”

“I think you would be better if you also let us remove the tattoos on your flank.” Handsome lost her breath. She opened her mouth, coming out with nothing, while Lockvara continued. She took out a pen. “Since you've been relocated, being unable to register your cutiemark has been an ongoing issue in multiple regards. That is, among other problems.”

The mare pushed her hooves up against her jaw, closing it by force. She cracked her neck and reclined into the chair, her eyes darting all over the kitchen. Lockvara’s eyes stared her down, unblinking and unmoving.

“Well, you must think I’m a moron,” Handsome said. Her teeth ground together loudly. “Talking smart like this won’t fry my brain. I’m fucked in the head, but since you took away my joy and my booze, it’s made me learn to think.”

“Do you know what the exact function of joy is, when applied to ponies?” Lockvara asked.

The mare bit on her lower lip and shuffled in her seat. She took long breaths, one of her hooves tapping on the table.

“...I get where you’re going with this. You wanna know what my special talent is. You’re wondering if I was fucked like this from the start.”

“That is not incorrect.” The minotaur jotted down a line in the notebook.

“Well, I can’t help you. My brain is scrambled. I dunno what is going on with me.” Handsome stared off past the minotaur and into the corridor. “Long story short, if you want me to smash shit and kill dudes, just give me some joy and I’ll do it. That’s it.”

“That is not the limit to my interests.” The tall figure shifted, placing her head in the way.

“You wanna know more about me, huh?” The mare puffed her nostrils. “What, all those questions your little helper asked me aren’t enough?”

“I do not see how you mean,” Lockvara said, giving her notebook a glance.

“Heh. Makes sense you’re bullshitting me.” Handsome turned to the minotaur and grinned, her artificial teeth catching a glimmer of light over the shadow. “It’s complicated. I’ve been here before.” Lockvara put the notebook and pen away, crossed her arms and nodded. “But I’ve never been here before.”

There was no question to follow. After a short silence, the unicorn continued, rubbing her horn through the cloth.

“See, I say this, cause… Cause it’s all been the same up until now. Same shit over and over. Going in circles.” The mare frowned. “I’d feel this… whatever you call it. This thing, when you know what’s about to happen, even though you shouldn’t. All the time. It never stopped. That’s why I didn’t stop at joy. Fuck, I need a drink…”

“Maybe after this. You are telling me you have been having de ja vu.”

“Whatever it’s called. I’d wake up and know exactly what would happen. Where I’d go, who I’d talk to, what they’d tell me, who I’d kill.” Handsome smacked her hooves on the table and chuckled. “Like I’ve already been there before. Sometimes it got, like, bumpy. I’d see shit that never even happened.” She started into a laugh before leading it into a cough. “Sometimes I died... And then it just kept going on again.”

“Really.” The minotaur sat motionless, the wind turning over pages in her notebook. She blinked rapidly. “I see.”

“Maybe you do.” Handsome rubbed the back of her neck. The minotaur crossed her hands tighter around her chest. “I liked it at first. I liked being free like this. Doing what I want, because I know I always would have. I’d suck down joy bottles, sing, scream and shout until my throat went...” The mare smiled. “I’d drink gallons of booze, my mouth would burn, burn for hours, but it didn’t matter. Cut myself, scorched myself, shredded my tail off, it didn’t matter. I kinda stopped looking like a mare, or, like, a pony... but it's not like that mattered either. Nothing did.” Her hooves passed over the bandages on her face. “Nothing I did changed a thing.”

“Do you know when it started?”

“Hah. You want me to remember?” Her eyes opened wide. She put a hoof underneath her chin, covering a hole from a removed piercing. “Lemme tell you something fun. I remember a lot. A whole lot.” Lockvara tilted her head. “More than ever actually happened. I don’t know what the fuck’s gone on in the past. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on right now. I don’t think I know what year it is or where I am. You might tell me, but I don’t know if I’m just remembering you right this moment.”

“...were your memories always like this?’

“There was one thing there. It always stayed the same. I knew it, I always knew it,” Handsome continued. Lockvara shook her head. “The Vulture. I was the Vulture. No matter what. Didn’t care about my face, my voice, my body… I knew I was going to be something else.” She sighed. “That is why I joined. Things just started making sense once I saw it in the box. Like it was meant to be. It felt cool.” The mare pressed her hooves into the table and grimaced. “And then it went to shit. It all went to shit.”

“You left the cycle?”

“What? No, fuck no,” Handsome raised her voice and waved her hoof. “It got stronger than it ever did! Everything was like… like that dee-jay-view, whatever. And it made sense!” Her voice cracked. She sniffled. “It all started making sense! It never did before, and then…” The mare hyperventilated, holding her chest. “Why did it have to start making sense?! I didn't want any answers! I don't want to know who's doing what, for what reason, and why I gotta be important! I'm fucking not, I'm just me! Everywhere I went, everyone I talked to, everyone was in on it! I didn’t want to know anything! I didn’t want to know any of this!”

“...right.”

There was silence while the mare caught her breath.

“So that’s why I did it,” Handsome whispered, her voice pitching down abruptly. “I took that one thing I was sure in, and I burned it. In the end, I knew I would. The Vulture always ended. It was all gone and ruined. I left everything behind. Not for the first time. But this time…” She buried her face in her hooves. “...it didn’t come back.”

“You do not know what is going to happen any longer.”

“I don’t know who the fuck I am anymore,” Handsome said, lifting her head to stare at Lockvara. “I left everything else behind. You know why I want to gulp down roach puke? Cause I wanna know what the fuck I’ll do! You know why I want to drink? Cause I don’t wanna have to think about all this! You know why I’m sitting here like a potted fucking plant?!” Her hooves crashed down on the table. One of its legs cracked, and the tilt set off a landslide of medicine, rolling the pile over the edge. The minotaur showed no reaction. “Because I’m afraid. There, I fucking said it. What the fuck do you want from me?! Tell me so I know a single motherfucking thing!”

Lockvara stayed silent. Handsome began to growl, her voice going raspy and turning into bubbling coughs. While she punched her sunken in chest, the minotaur closed her eyes and got up, picking her briefcase up from the floor.

“Looking at you, it will be a bad idea to detail the things to come. Your current condition is just too volatile. Do nothing drastic, for your own sake.” She turned around and headed for the door. “Let us take care of you, and you will be able to stabilize your life again. Prove to us that you do not need professional medical help just yet.” Lockvara paused and looked back. “You're not the Vulture. You have something better to do.”

Handsome reached out a hoof toward the minotaur, ending up plastered over the table. Her mouth opened and closed, with no sound coming out. Tears welled in her widened, bloodshot eyes. She began to shake all over.

The sound of rummaging in an adjacent room became audible over her silent hysteria. The mare stopped moving. After a brief pause, she got up and headed out into the corridor on unsteady, shuddering legs. Her ears were perked up. Her mouth was open wide, tensed in a voiceless scream.

Handsome butted through the door to Page’s room. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, she stepped into the dimly lit kitchen.

???

The mare stumbled through the pitch blackness. Distant, dull thuds rang out in response to her hooves touching the floor tiles. There was a quiet, wet crack as she stepped on a cockroach. The crystal lamp hanging in front of the table flickered on and off, giving out a weak light, which took on a pink hue because of the dark red stains covering the bulb Handsome took heavy breaths, making no noise even as she cleared her throat.

“And look who we have here.” An overly muscled, tatooed mare with a shaved head, joy spots near her lips and tattoos all over her body grinned, exposing two rows of mostly artificial teeth. They reflected the dim pink light. She tugged on the ties of her torn hoodie, bringing it tight around her scarred neck.

“As of late, you have done some interesting things.” The same mare kicked back on her seat and stretched, making the glistening pink leather jacket on her squeak. The rings and bracelets covering her legs gleamed in the light. A large bike stood behind her, supporting the mare’s back.

“You do know that this is where it ends, right?” A tall female minotaur crossed her arms atop the briefcase that sat in her lap. The pink lights reflected off her glasses, keeping the face obscured.

“...”

The curtains moved silently with the wind, but none reached her. Vibrant orange light pierced through the cracks. The unicorn’s knees buckled.

“Oh fuck off, all of you. Fuck right off.”

She hacked and coughed, spitting out blood and dirt. It trickled down her skinny frame, staining her rare white coat. When her coughing fit was over, she stood between rail tracks. The sparks and bolts of electricity passed through her, making no noise. A droning hum was audible in the far distance.

“Is it just not fun for you anymore?” A massive brown minotaur in a chain-covered vest raised his fists into the air. His chest ripped itself inside out, while electric sparks jumped off the metal spines that topped his green mohawk. “Maybe you should have stayed underground?”

“Do you remember all the things you did?” An amber earth pony in a purple suit raised a hoof with a crystal revolver, pressing it to his chin. It went off, coating his short black and blonde mane in blood and brain matter. He continued glaring at her. “Do you think you can overpower fate?”

“A great unity of wonderful individuals to deliver this world from its sickness, but you?” A lemon unicorn with matching hair also motioned with her gun leg. It fired off a silent shot into the air, and the mare’s crow mask appeared on her head. Blood trickled down from her punctured neck. “You brought a dead end.”

“...”

Her hoof held tight onto her chest. She moaned, her heartbeat blending into the faraway hum. Within a moment, it became a roar, and a train sped through where she stood.

“You still think I give a shit?”

A stool underneath her creaked on unsteady legs. The bar stand gave out a quiet thud when her face smacked against it. Loud, sharp crackling came out of the videodrome mounted on the wall behind her, drowning out the continuous hum. The white, flickering screen was the only source of light in the bar. The whole interior was coated in dust and dried blood. Handsome pushed against the stand and raised her head.

“Ponies like you don’t know what they’re in for when they run off.” An ES/AS air trooper sat on a stool, rocking himself back and forth with a hind leg. The mare shuddered, hopping back on the stool. A long, thick mane dyed red and purple hung over one of her eyes. “Maybe you knew all along, though?”

“There was generosity in this world once.” A light grey unicorn wrote out lines in a ledger, looking at the mare from behind taped together glasses. Blood dribbled into Handsome’s wide open mouth, and all over her ripped hoodie. She touched her face with a hoof, spitting once it touched her freshly broken nose. Sparks shot out of her damaged horn. The other hoof grasped at the top of her shaved head, bleeding profusely, bone having been cracked through. “Did your friends ever mean it?”

“Now you’re here at the end, beginning to look back at all that’s happened.” A pink pegasus with messy green hair brandished his chopper. The unicorn’s recovering breaths sucked in the rubber of her mask. Her forelegs clung to the club and the gun, tearing through the postal outfit with the spikes, barbs, needles and blades. “Anyone would say you got the wrong address.”

“...”

The mare threw herself off the stool, falling down on the dusty floor. She cringed and whined, rolling around, her snout touching her knees. She let out a series of wet coughs.

“Quit playing games.”

Disco lights glowed pink, blue, green and orange in the darkness, illuminating nothing around them. A flat ceiling tile cast down dirty yellowish light, hanging over a corner couch in front of her. Chitinous growths, pulsating with green veins, covered the floor tiles and distant tables.

“Don’t you find yourself symbolic, filly?” A raven in a twirling a wine glass in his talons. The disco ball made a rapid spin, putting him in front of her with his rapier out. His mangled corpse was on the floor before Handsome stepped back. A dismembered arm, clinging to the rapier, floated in the darkness. “Symbols are important.”

“Who do you think comes next, girl?” A crane in a blue suit juggled her butterfly knife in one hand. There was another flash, with the griffon’s shadow towering over Handsome’s. The next moment, her body, neck snapped and beak broken in half, lay on the floor, contained within a deep imprint in the tiles. “There always has to be a plan.”

“This is not as confusing as it seems, young mare.” An old albatross griffon shook his head, putting hands on the shoulders of a leather-strapped hawk with racing goggles on her forehead on one side, and a large magpie in a vest and tie on the other. The other two griffons sat next to them, all five beaks turned to Handsome. “But then, you’ve made it clear you want no part of it.”

“...” Each raised a glass and drank. Rubber masks and packs of letters fell down on their seats. A tall purple alicorn walked out onto the balcony of a crystal palace. The mare closed her eyes and looked away.

“I’ve had it with this shit.”

There was a bright purple flare, the ground quaking and cracking.

Handsome stood in a vast chitinous landscape, surrounded by luminescent synaptic cocoons, glowing veins and growths. Drones skittered in the far distance. A large crystal palace stood with its foundation cracked, chitin filling in the gaps. The clean, white streets were stained with blood and synapse. Thunder cracked in the pitch black sky, followed by green lightning.

“This is how it all ends.” An enormous synaptic reared and tore open its maw. She stood on the carcass of a sleek, crystalline police carriage, synapse dribbling out of her maw. “Maybe you should have stuck to killing what didn’t bleed red.”

“You are everything that is wrong with your world.” A smaller synaptic looked down at her, his long mane flinging in the wind. The green energy coming from his maw, his eyes and the scar going over his eye left cracks in the chitin, pouring out in hazy tendrils. “You can’t be cured. Only replaced.”

“I wish we could have met under different circumstances.” A huge pair of eyes lit up above the palace. Tentacles shuffled in the distance.

“....”

With a stiff groan, the mare rammed her way forward, barreling through thin air. Her eyes were shut tight, tears streaking from beneath. She ran chest forward into a couch, slamming her face into the cushions and sliding down onto the floor. A thick trail of drool followed the mare as she turned around and sat with her back against the cushioning.

“This is just withdrawal…” Handsome muttered. “Just withdrawal…”

She opened her eyes again. There were three unicorns sitting around another table in a fully lit kitchen. They looked down at her, two mares and a stallion.

After a short pause, the mare lost her breath, choking and scampering back over the couch. This landed her onto another, different couch, her horn passing through the material while her snout mushed against it. Gasping and crying, Handsome turned over, placing her head against the front of one of the seats.

Beaked figures sat all around her in the room. The only sources of light were the orange fires in their eye sockets. They sat still on bean bags and cushions, their heads hanging off. In front of Handsome, a hookah bubbled over a lightless fire, puffing out thick green smoke. Bottles of joy pills lay scattered around the room, rolling back and forth a few inches now and again as the hum grew in volume.

“This is not the first new world, is it?” An earth pony raised her head, her flat-billed mask oozing blood from underneath. It trickled over a pair of dog tags.

“Did the old magic ever make you feel the same way?” A unicorn shrugged, slumping forward, the blood-caked beak of his mask touching the earth pony's knees.

“You survived so much to get here, and you threw it all away.” Another unicorn struggled for breath under an owl mask. The goggles placed in its eyeholes reflected the fire in his eyes. He supported himself by leaning onto another stallion, who sat completely still, the silhouette of his rooster mask hardly visible in the dark.

“You knew this would happen. You’ve done this before.” The Vulture motioned with a hoof. Its mouth moved as it spoke, exposing sharp teeth. The eyes of all the masked killers flickered in tune with its words. “This is not a new story.”

Handsome began to climb up the sofa. Her head sunk in. She stared at the fourth figure, unblinking, while the room went completely dark. Soon after the flames inside the masks went away, the mare was sitting on a chair at the head of a long, dirty table. A small crystal bulb hung right over her head, giving out a faint pink light.

Similar bulbs dangled over three other figures, who sat far away from her. On the left, under a green bulb sat a tall, lanky synaptic. Opposite the green bulb was a blue one - beneath it sat a white earth pony stallion. An orange bulb hung on the other end of the table, illuminating a grey pegasus mare.

“Hey, you motherfuckers,” Handsome said, her voice straining to be heard over the hum. “What is happening in here?”

“You think you can make sense of any of this?” the synaptic replied, shaking his head. “Give up, ugly face. We’re way past understanding.”

“You’re making me feel sick, bug.”

“Am I really just a bug to you?” Nexus laughed, his fangs glistening in the green light while his eyes disappeared under his unkempt green mane. “Don’t strain yourself, it’s too late for that. It’s all bullshit from here, sweetie, and we’ve stepped in it.”

The green bulb exploded, littering the empty seat beneath it with shards of glass. It was covered in fresh red blood.

“You, asshole. I don’t remember you,” Handsome said, pointing a hoof at the earth pony. The table was now short enough for his frown to be visible. “What’s your deal?”

“Things went wrong, in more ways than one. It’s not that simple, and you know it,” the stallion replied, turning to face her. “What matters is that it never went right.”

“You’re giving me a bad feeling, pig.”

“So you do remember. Sometimes it was you. Sometimes it was me. Sometimes it all went a whole different way - like now.” Thorn smiled, baring his teeth and raising the sides of his moustache. “And in the end, it was all pointless from the word go. You judge no one in here, sweetie.”

The blue bulb popped, raining glass on the chair. The shards landed on a police pony’s hat, a riot helmet and a beaked rubber mask.

“You don’t know any more than I do, do you?”

Handsome leaned in, squinting at the pegasus in front of her. They sat close together, the pink and orange lighting blending together in the middle.

“It feels good, yeah? ”

The grey mare’s bad eye slowly centered itself, both pupils staring at her. She shook her head, her thinning out yellow mane swinging at the impalpable wind. Her mouth was shut tight, deepening the wrinkles at the ridges of her nose. She did not react when Handsome stretched out a hoof and shoved it in her face. The hoof passed directly through it.

“This is not just a dream, is it?”

Ditzy closed her eyes, one after the other, and nodded, a loud breath leaving her nostrils. The orange bulb went out, and glass covered a pile of children’s toys on her chair.

The light from the pink bulb went away.

“You’ve been sitting here this whole time,” Handsome said, blinking. There was nothing around her. “Who are you?”

“That’s a very good question.” The lights came back on. The mare took a step back, losing her breath. She bumped into a drawer, toppling over action figures and comic books. “The only question that matters.”

Her eyes darted around the room. It was a small bedroom, plastered all over with posters depicting groups of leather clad ponies wearing corpse makeup, stylized band names, pictures of violence and black and white landscapes. Teenage filly clothes were scattered all over the room, a pair of striped knee high socks hanging over a lamp, underwear dangling on knobs, several spiked collars and anklets littering the table next to the bed. A tall mirror stood next to the door, bearing multiple cracks, smeared all over with black and pink lipstick.

Handsome’s eyes grew large, tears drying up on her cheeks. She breathed sharply, staring at the bed. It glowed with three pink lights coming from nowhere, which illuminated the rest of the room.

“Things went wrong so long ago. Fight or flight,” said a Vulture with the body of a teenage white unicorn in a sleeveless black shirt, spiked bracelets on all its legs. A heart locker painted violet and red hung off a spiked collar. Its tail was dyed pink and black. Above the collar, the Vulture’s head glared at the mare with glowing pink eyes. Its voice was raspy, a natural high pitch straining to sound lower. “Does it ring a bell?”

“This world is too far gone. Make your decision,” said another Vulture, a young adult, wearing a torn black hoodie, chains tightening the sleeves at the joints. It was significantly bigger, with unshorn fetlocks hanging off muscled, veiny limbs. It had no tail. The scarred neck went into the Vulture’s head, which spoke with Handsome’s own voice. “You are the end, isn’t that sweet?”

“This is bigger than you think. But you’re fed up with thinking, do you?” said the Vulture in a damaged, stitched-up, blood-covered postal outfit. The Vulture smiled, showing sharp teeth growing out of the beak. “Handsome, sweetie...”

“...” Handsome looked at all of herself that sat on the bed. They looked back at her, tilting their beaks. “Answer me.”

“It feels like disaster is coming. In truth, it already has. It’s time to tear into the corpse for all it has left,” the Vulture on the left said. It had the body of a lean yellow earth mare. A toolkit sat strapped to her waist, and mud shoes were belted to her hind hooves. “That’s what I am.”

“Who the…”

“Any ending is also a beginning. You just have to see the value in that which has gone,” the Vulture on the right said. It had the body of a tan athletic pegasus in a red hoodie, with tape around her joints and bandaged wings. “That’s what I am.”

“Why do you…”

“Equestria is in withdrawal,” the Vulture in the middle said. It was a tall purple alicorn wearing gold and silver regalia. The light flickered, and its beak appeared directly on the other side of the mirror. It stared at Handsome. “This is the apocalypse.”

“Oh, you bitch, you did this, didn’t you?” The mare glared at the alicorn. “What the fuck have you done this time? Why is this happening?”

The Vulture spread its purple wings and reared on its long, ornate hind hooves.

“Is this what you see? I’m not really who you think I am,” it said, sitting down on a throne. “I don’t think you’re remembering what’s important.”

The unicorn rolled around on the tiger striped carpet, clutching her head and grunting. She moaned, pushing against a nearby glass table with her bare back.

“You’ve been here before. Get up, sweetie.”

Handsome took a hissy breath and pulled herself up, clinging to the table. Her snout ended up dunked into a deep bowl of faintly steaming liquid, causing her to have a coughing fit, knocking herself on the chest.

Her pupils widened. She screamed at the top of her lungs and barreled outside of the room, trampling the unconscious bodies. Looking back, she took a new breath to continue screaming, while the Vulture observed her, laying on the sofa, its huffing beak touching the pink pegasus’ crossed hooves. The pink glow in its eyes reflected off the chopping blades clutched in the stallion’s hooves.

The mare galloped down the corridor, crossing its length multiple times before making progress towards the door. It shook from constant heavy knocks, which mixed in with the other noises surrounding the unicorn. The noises changed, and the knocks gained a new rhythm. Handsome laughed to herself in a hoarse, rabid tone, as they turned into music.

She rammed through the door and fell onto the streets of a city covered by a tide of black bodies and shapes. cyan smoke rose in the distance, over the roofs of short two-story buildings on the slanted street. Clean crystalline skyscrapers popped in and out each time she blinked.

Corpse paint ran down her pierced cheeks in thin streams. The long strands of her red and purple mane stuck to the mare’s sweaty coat. Spikes on her anklets ground against the pavement while she rose back up. Her tail brushed against a nearby steaming green puddle.

The mare staggered around, pushing herself along the roadside railing. The sign hanging over the building she left gradually shifted from hot pink to toxic green, dangling in thin air. The alleyway between that building and the next led nowhere, cutting into emptiness that changed between the same colors. The unicorn spat on the ground, a tooth flying out alongside color-shifting blood. She stared at it for a second before shaking her head and gulping. Staggering on along the pavement, the unicorn moaned, watching every reflective surface take on technicolor hues. A large bridge in the distance shook, closing in and fading out with each step the mare made.

Her mane dangled in the wind as she sped up. Clicking and chittering cut into the music that blasted over every other noise. Distorted faraway sirens mixed into deep bass strokes that accompanied the intermittent shaking of the ground. Black, green-eyed figures popped in and out of being, progressively appearing closer. She turned a corner and ran into a police barricade. A thick orange arrow floated parallel to the ground, pointing at an open carriage. Her voice came through in rhythm to the bass as she shouted, speeding away from the arrow.

Her snout slammed into thin air. The rest of the downturn danced in the air, a sharp line in the ground cutting it off from where she stood. Turning around, the mare faced a rearing changeling. She covered her face, losing balance and falling. Bubbling synapse covered her black shirt. She got up several meters away from where she fell, and stared at the changeling’s corpse with its head bashed in.

Others like it popped in and out along the way she came, stopping some distance away. Her mouth opened, pieces of a scream blending into music. The two-story buildings would overlap with sleek, clean crystal structures each time her voice broke through. The cyan smoke in the evening sky coexisted with a thick, black storm front, the whole sky shifting to the tune.

The mare darted off to the side, running for the sealed door of a tattoo shop, her body going straight through it.

Clinging to a nearby metal dumpster, she got back up on her hooves and rushed down the narrow alley, turning over a trash can fire. Back on the street, her mane got swept by the strong storm wind right in her face. The unicorn smashed her horn against a lamp post while she got the thick strands out of the way. Opening her eyes, she stared at the sun setting over the ocean, illuminating the beach and pier. She backpedaled, galloping past and through a thick group of black shapes, some of whom her body passed through weightlessly. Steaming liquid covered the walls of the narrow alleyway.

The barricade stood at the end of the alleyway. The orange cones at its sides clipped into the sides of the buildings whenever they changed into sleeker, crystal forms. Equine figures in uniform, with outstretched hooves pointing at her, stood on top of the barricade.The police carriage placed in the middle stood with its back facing her, its door rolled up. Its interior was completely black safe for a pony in ES/AS air trooper armor. The Vulture looked down at her from the top of his body.

“Are you deaf, punk?” it yelled. The alleyway and barricade became a blur, save for the carriage. “Go. To. Car.”

“Fuck you! I’m not doing this again!” she said, her mouth locked in a wide scream despite pronouncing the words.

Her head exploded into bloody mush, piercings and dyed strands of mane spreading all around. Handsome rolled on the floor, clutching her broken nose. She coughed up bloody spit while the floor shook with the bass. Opening her eyes, the mare sprung onto her hooves, beginning to back away. Next to where she got up lay a pair of bodies in blue and white shirts, and a number of dissipating black carcasses were thrown all over the bar. Handsome tripped, slipping on the blood and brain matter of a dead gangster.

The staff door behind the bar stand opened. Half-sitting on the floor, unicorn went silent, meeting eyes with a unicorn mare wearing glasses and a plain black suit. An arrow hovered over the stool.

“Gosh… you’re one handsome character.” The mare’s eyes tracked her own body flickering around the bar, killing each gangster one by one. She nodded to herself slowly. The Vulture squinted at her from the door crack. “Hey now, I’m friendly! Do you want something on the house?”

“Nooo, no, no, no,” Handsome mumbled, scuttling away back-first. “Screw this! I’ve had enough!”

She crawled for a few seconds more before getting back up and stumbling head-first into the door. The furniture jumped up and down with each beat of the music. Handsome’s forehead pushed the door open, and her horn sunk into a large brown minotaur in a vest. She screamed and launched herself off to the side, running down the pier.

Equine figures appeared in her way, standing perfectly still. Handsome galloped through them, each turning into beaten pulp moments before impact. Blood covered her entire body, from the rare strands of mane on her head to the outgrown fetlocks on her muscle-thick legs. Blinking rapidly, she cleared red droplets from her eyelids. Huffing and gurgling noises emerged from her throat, barging into the constant beat that tilted the sandy beach she had been running on. Raising her forehooves, clean of sand, Handsome stared at them, staggering around before walking directly through a palm tree.

Breathing heavily, the mare backed herself into the door of a house. She turned around and walked in. Her body moved faster than her hooves did, nearly sliding up the corridor. Her forehoof flung at a tall dreadlocked stallion, and his body instantly appeared on the floor with a cracked neck, pieces of his dark shades littering the hallway. Moving to the left, Handsome butted into a fat red stallion, which caused him to appear under the table on his back. Her body mounted his, the table going right through her chest. The mare repetitively bashed his head against the floor until the red puddle stopped growing. Handsome walked down the corridor, illuminated by wall lights that went through the same color patterns as the void outside the windows.

A pale blue stallion in a red jacket stood next to a clothing rack. His eyes began to glow dark pink and his head twitched, while his expression stayed blank. Handsome neared him when he began to move towards her. She swung a foreleg and knocked him down. Her hind hoof came down on his face and squashed it. Turning around, Handsome passed through a blue arrow that pointed at the rack. It disappeared.

Handsome walked to the living room. The door opened on its own as she approached. Inside was a pile of unconscious bodies, buried underneath a layer of letters, masks and steaming changeling limbs. Her own body was slumped up against a couch, its jaw hanging off and drooling. On the couch itself was a pink pegasus stallion, who sat up once she walked in.

“No more bullshit. No more lies. No more boredom,” the Vulture said, gesturing with Skate’s hooves. “Chapter clear.”

“Think you can taunt me?” Handsome made her way through the letters and masks. Her legs moved in slow motion, carrying her through the walls. In the dark beyond the room, four mangled, singed bodies lay underneath dim pink lights. She passed each, while the void began to swarm with grime and insects. Their masks,, an eagle, a honeybird, a cormorant, a seagull and a crow, were fused to their faces.

Vulture kept looking at her as she approached it, and once her forehooves touched its head, it came clean off. The unicorn jumped back and glared at the rubber mask before levitating it closer and stomping on it. Drawing quick, sharp breaths, she turned around and ran into the darkness that the living room’s walls disappeared off into. Galloping forward with her eyes tightly closed, Handsome ran directly into a small blue arrow.

She opened her eyes as a gust of wind struck her in the face. The roar of an engine pierced through the breaks in the music. Her forehooves clung to a pair of handles, pressing in deep. Her hind hooves and backside jumped on the plastic padding as the wheels rolled down the subway tracks.

Poorly defined figures in dirty clothing showed up on the tracks, each one being rammed right through. The motorcycle left behind bright green trails, which continued to glow even as the lights went out. Handsome kicked the pedal with her hind hoof, pressing deeper into the handles. The subway shook again and again, each mangled body causing it to tilt. The mare raised her head and growled, bubbles of foam spreading into the dark.

The bike started going through the maintenance areas, driving into narrow doorways, circling subway machinery, and leaving behind a near dozen bodies in each room. The wheels dug into featureless figures, spreading blurry chunks of flesh and chitin all over. Some of them moved, sliding away on motionless legs, but the bike continued to leave behind twisted bodies in each room. Handsome banged her hooves on the handles and closed her eyes, headbutting the rapidly spinning dial in the middle of the front panel.

When she opened her eyes, the bike was going down the corridor of a mansion. The wheels ripped through the carpets, shredding the fabric as well as the bodies of guards in pink and brown that lay on the floor. It burst through a large wooden door and made its way to the center of a decorated hall, stopping in front of a fountain with a knight’s statue on top of it. The engine revved up on its own and the vehicle began to spin in place. Handsome grit her teeth and half-roared half-laughed, clinging to the handles as the wheels kept circling on the floor. The bike changed the side it was leaning to, matching the music, which kept playing over the screeching of the tires tearing into the floor. After a short while it launched itself into the fountain. Handsome screamed when the statue of three young fillies shot towards her.

The mare continued to cry out as the wheels rolled down a flat surface. The vehicle still did a slight jump each time it turned blurry figures into meat and ooze, but the surroundings flickered with every note that played. It rode down office hallways, crashed through cubicles, burst open doors, broke past barricades and drove through apartments. Handsome raised her head. Her cheeks buffed up, and she barfed up a short stream of liquid that shifted between toxic hues. Banging a hoof on the handle, the mare laughed. She started opening her mouth and making noises in tune with the music.

Pinkish-orange sunlight blasted her eyes. The bike sped down paved streets, palm trees speeding past it. Neon signs and blocky buildings combined into a haze to each side of the streets. It turned corners, speeding across crossroads, passing through carriages. Her voice began to fit in with the frantic beat. The city lights got brighter as the sky gathered storm clouds. The waterfront appeared in the distance, with the setting sun shaking and changing colors. The mare’s hooves pushed at the handles when the bike went off the road and began to near the ocean, but the vehicle did not react. She shuffled in her seat, twisting and banging on the motorcycle, which continued to gain speed and drive straight ahead. It crashed into the water, throwing her into the air.

“This is not a new story. What is yours?”

A series of loud, booming noises rang out, silencing the tune. Handsome pressed down on her temples, her mouth open wide. She watched down from a high point of view, spinning in place for a moment. Her body stumbled around awkwardly on two legs. All that surrounded it had a grainy, poorly defined quality to it, appearing flat and lacking definition.

Her body barreled through a door into a hallway and tripped on one of the russet tiles, barging through another door. Falling flat down on a red and orange carpet, Handsome stayed short of hitting it with her masked face, landing on a large abdomen. Getting up, her body’s forelimbs bent far at the elbows and used their digits to support the massive weight. There was a long repeater gun in one of them.

Getting up and walking in with two legs, Handsome made it to the end of the room. The ringing passed. A door to her side burst open, and a tall, tan figure in white and blue entered, wielding a steel pipe. Her arm shifted towards it, one of the digits pressing down on a trigger. The figure fell down, bright red holes sieving its chest. Handsome’s body waddled towards where it came from, flinging the door as it entered, which knocked down more identical looking figures. Her lower limbs stepped on each of them, coloring the russet tiles a brighter shade of red. There was nothing in the room aside from tall boxes stacked in the middle, a big window and two potted plants at the far end, and a few green containers on the floor. Doors in the room lead to the left and right.

Stepping over the containers, her body went to the right. When it was nearly there, another white and blue shape entered through where she came from. Handsome spun around, pointing the repeater at it, which only let out a click. With a sharp motion, her limb threw the gun at the shape, which collapsed with a twisted neck.

“Lost, forgotten and confused. Left behind when everything changed. Close, but not quite.”

Another door opened, and a series of shots penetrated the massive body, sending it to the floor.

There was a sundown sky above her. Her eyes peered into the barrel of a crystal gun, carried by a white earth pony stallion. He breathed heavily, his moustache glistening with sweat. He turned around and bucked the massive minotaur that lay near Handsome's body. The world disappeared.

Handsome stood in front of a large building. Her slim bipedal body rushed in through the massive front gates. It ran forward through a clean white hall with writing on the floor. A large orange shape stood where the tiles turned black. Her body approached it and sliced its abdomen open with a chopping knife before entering a lift. Jagged blue numbers floated above its body before disappearing. Inside, one of her arms touched a button. Her body stood completely still while inside. The reflection showed a blurry figure that was clothed in pink from the waist up. A bright cyan racing helmet sat on its head.

When the doors opened, it ran on through a narrow corridor. It cut down every figure on its way, slicing off their limbs and leaving gashes in their stomachs, spreading intestines on the blue floor. Each of them had a higher number pop up after they fell. Having turned two corners, the body reached another large door and burst through it, leaving bloody prints on the carpet. Another figure stood near a desk at the end of the big office. It moved in place. Her body’s free arm jolted, and the figure fell down with a knife in its featureless head. Moving closer to the desk, it stood in front of a rectangular box with a screen.

“You think you know what you’re doing. You think you like causing others pain, but you’re afraid.”

The doors opened once again, and another shape entered in, looking identical to her body. Handsome’s body approached it. The new figure made its way to a black bag to the side of the desk and took out a golf club. There was garbled noise finding its way into the repetitive tune. They closed in with one another, and Handsome’s body fell down on the floor.

The ceiling was plain concrete, with a halted fan. The clearly defined synaptic standing over her body grunted, levitating her own spiked club in the air, and brought it down on her. She opened her mouth, singing. There was a multitude of ripping, squishing noises. The world disappeared.

Handsome stumbled forward. Everything around her shook and swiveled. The black and white floor tiles and the blood-splattered walls had a plain, hollow appearance. Dead bodies in white and blue suits were jaggy, composed of small, visible particles. Her own body was the same, also clothed in a white suit and a blue shirt. Her upper limbs carried a narrow, thin blunderbuss. Every step was faster than the movement of the leg suggested. The body stepped through dead bodies without impacting them.

Around a corner was a rectangular texture with two tan borders around a collection of interconnecting lines colored different shades of blue. It was completely flat. Near it, a white and blue body jittered back and forth on the floor.

“Something tied you to all this, but it’s long gone. You have all you wanted, but it’s all wrong."

Her body walked through a door and up a set of stairs. The blunderbuss disappeared, her limbs now carrying a red axe. The stairs ended with another door, beyond which were plain grey tiles. They were followed until reaching a darker patch, which had an encircled letter ‘H’ drawn inside of it. Blurry colors coalesced in the middle. A piercing screech rang out.

In front of her was a formless mesh of fire that changed shapes. Her body began to move back as it approached. It settled on the shape of a pegasus. The world disappeared, fading into rectangular grains, and flushed back in, returning to prior definition.

“Maybe it doesn’t need to be so complicated.”

She stood in front of a bathroom sink, leaning against it with her hooves, droplets of water from the cracked ceiling landing on her overgrown fetlocks. She stared into the cracked mirror, from which the Vulture stared back. The unicorn chewed on her lip, blood trickling from it. Spastic, raspy breaths emerged from her as she twitched, shaking her head slowly, slowing her breath down with every second. The weak crystalline bulb swung on its long cord, vibrated by the erratic screeching and humming that came from everywhere around her.

“You asked a good question,” the Vulture said. “Who are you, sweetie?”

“I’m… not feeling right,” Handsome replied. The Vulture opened its beak in sync with her words. “I gotta… Lemme see… Ooohhh.”

The Vulture replicated Handsome’s motions, grasping its head with its talons. The room shook. Handsome pressed her hooves deep into her face. She leaned over the sink. Her hooves went into her mouth, jerking it open.

“I’M LOOKING HANDSOME.”

The mare’s upper and lower jaws came loose. With the mouth torn open, her hooves pulled back at the skin, folding it back until it came off. From inside her mouth, a beak came out, wriggling upwards until the whole head was free. Handsome gasped and rubbed hooves over her bare pink head, the toothy beak hanging open for breath. She bashed her bare forehead into the mirror and rolled ahead. Her hooves landed on a yellow dusty path in broad sunlight.

A featureless jagged black shape stood in front of her. It began to back off towards a small town a short way down the road, but shortly after making a few steps, it twisted in place. With an abrupt wet splash, it became a blurry, disfigured corpse. Blood pooled around its indistinguishable features, staining the dead unicorn’s white coat. Handsome walked over to it and stared at the body before diving her beak into it.

For that time, the dust road became alleyway asphalt and the village houses were replaced with the sides of clean crystalline buildings. Lights flashed all around. Sirens sounded in the near distance. A booming hum underscored the music.

Once the environment reverted, Handsome touched her face. Claws passed down the short curved beak. Running on clawed arms and hooved legs, she passed by small village houses ornamented with hearts. Sunshine fell down on her blood-covered postal uniform.

More obscure dark figures came up along the way. Handsome swiped her talons, leaving deep, bleeding gashes in their bodies, which reverted into ponies upon hitting the ground. She slashed her way through a small plaza with a large oak in the middle, leaving behind over a dozen unrecognizable equine corpses. She stopped in front of one shape that hovered in place, twitching and jittering. Her talons grabbed its head and split it in half.

Before the small orange pegasus’ body hit the ground, Handsome tore into it. Her body shot up into the air, gusts of wind blowing hard against her face. The skies shifted, taking on toxic colors. The mare’s body burst through a thick layer of still green liquid, dribbling into her beak. Losing all momentum and landing on top of a grassy hill, she rolled down. Upon reaching bottom, Handsome got up on her hind hooves. Pumping her fist, she let out a silent screech, short parts of it remaining audible. Flexing her broad shoulders and smashing her long reptilian tail against the ground, Handsome got the blunderbuss into firing position. The blade on its end tore through the already ripped uniform that covered her muscular, upright upper body.

Numerous black shapes scrambled away, blending into one another. Some duplicated when out of field of vision. A hail of lead burst from the barrel, catching several within the spread of the burning pellets. The blade at the end sliced into Handsome’s side, with no blood coming out of the resulting gash.

More figures emerged around her, most standing completely still or distancing themselves from her. Handsome’s talon pulled the trigger with every step she made. Her hind hooves stomped through the dirt. Shreds and cast-off threads of uniform left a trail behind her while the mare followed a short wooden fence over to a large red house.

One shape emerged, busting open the gates. The blunderbuss clicked and fizzled when the trigger was pulled. Handsome stopped, digging in her hooves. When the figure swiped at her, she smashed it with the barrel, splitting open a dark red stallion’s head. Moving past its body, the griffon took another charging black figure on the blade of her gun, piercing through an orange earth mare. Standing behind the gates were two more shapes - one did not move, while the other performed incoherent, hazy jerking motions.

Handsome bashed bashing one’s head off, leaving behind the body of a light green earth mare. Grabbing the jittering shape with one of her hands, Handsome bit into it with her beak, tearing out a chunk out of a small yellow earth pony.

While she chewed, Handsome stood unsteadily on all fours, touching smooth pavement, green ooze dribbling out of her mouth. A transparent billboard floated by along the sidewalk. The smooth features of nearby potted plants and buildings cast off shadows from a bright green light. She burped and spat out a chunky green liquid. Her back arched, expanding and twisting.

Walking ahead on large, unsteady, mismatched hooves, the mare brushed past trees and knocked over fences. She groaned and drooled out of her beak, covering up her face with talons and claws. Her other claw held on to a spiked bat, which dug into the ground as she dragged it. The horns sprouting from Handsome’s bald pink head broke branches off trees. Her heavy breaths made no noise, but the black equines around her dropped down when she exhaled, remaining on the ground until her hooves squashed them, leaving chunks of pony corpses behind.

Handsome had a coughing fit, ending up with a stream of bile pouring down on the street. She stumbled around, flailing her arms. The club collapsed several small houses. The mare’s beak hung open as she squinted at the city below her. Shifting a hoof, she knocked down a tree. Her leonine tail swiped a market stall off the ground. Another coughing fit turned into laughter, some syllables becoming part of the continuous bassy tune in the back. The mountain-side city in the distance spun and tilted to the beat.

Handsome held the club with both arms, needles piercing through her claws, and pummeled the town. The nails, spikes, needles and other sharp extremities tore into houses and roads, and wide swipes of the club itself collapsed streets. She stomped her mismatched hooves, splashing in the drool coming from her beak. With a loud scream, Handsome raised the club again, and dropped it up raising her head. She stood in the middle of a road, surrounded by bright, smooth, colorful crystalline buildings. Broken changeling bodies lay scattered nearby. Ahead of her was an ornate tower-like building framed with a decorative carousel of porcelain ponies.

“What you’ve got to do is see and remember. That is all that is left.”

She staggered towards it, ooze bubbling in her mouth. Her ears folded back as the music became louder. Blue and red flashes illuminated the area on top of a persistent green light. Handsome manually put hind hoof after forehoof, grunting whenever her knees buckled at another quake of the bass. With her eyes open wide, the mare nudged the boutique’s doors open with her horn. Her head jerked back as a heavy object struck her square in the forehead.

Flying back, she landed behind the front door of a house. The music faded away. Handsome’s legs shook as she propped herself up.

Face to face with her was a teenage unicorn filly in foundation and eyeliner. It trailed lightly beneath her wide green eyes, which stared through where Handsome stood. The filly’s body was frozen mid-gallop. The rug underneath her hooves sat crumpled, the fabric having no reaction to when Handsome stepped on it. A half-shaved, dyed mane trailed behind her. A small backpack sat loosely buckled on her back.

The filly spun at a rapid pace when Handsome reached out to her. Her neck twisted in each direction. Her mouth opened and closed, widening each time, until becoming larger than the rest of her body. Handsome stepped away.

Her own coat was bare, lacking the thinning patches. She rubbed her face all over, pushing her tailless flank into a wall. The bandages on her face disappeared along with the recent wounds they hid. Her snout still appeared ridged and curved from repeated damage, and there were still scars and burns all over her body. Handsome was all white, safe for the layer of pink and silver growing on her head and the tattoos on her flanks.

Grinding her teeth and shaking, Handsome walked past the guest area, through a time-frozen falling vase, and toward a small kitchen.

Handsome stood in front of the table. Behind it sat two older unicorns. A large white stallion was halfway through jumping off his chair. His mouth was open wide. His pupils were shrunken, and his lips curved down beneath a thick, long moustache. His forehooves shifting from position to position, retracting into their sockets and popping back out, leaving behind after-images. The blue flower patterned shirt he wore extended itself alongside his twisting body.

Handsome stretched a hoof out to her father.

Her whole body contorted before she made contact. The mare gasped and whimpered, tears streaking down her cheeks before freezing in mid-air. The stallion sunk halfway into the floor, his mouth now opening and closing, repeating the same movement each time.

“ETAGRIP GETAGRI GETAGRIP TAGRIP GETAGRIP S W E E T I E” his voice rippled into the room, sounding fuzzy and distorted, parts of syllables missing. His neck twisted, making him stare directly at her while his blue eyes popped in and out of their sockets. “ LOSING you LOSING y o u”

To his side, Handsome's mother moved up and down with her chair.

Her body did not move at all, stuck looking upwards with its hind hooves straight at its sides. The chair floated into the air and lowered itself into the floor, parts of the mare’s hind hooves and apron passing directly through it as well. When it moved upwards, the large bun of hair on her head went through fly tape that hung from the ceiling. Only the greying strands poking out of the mane moved, reacting to Handsome’s breathing. Thick jets of solid tears hung still in the air, not connecting to her eyes. Chewing her lip, Handsome brought her snout to one of the tear sprays. She gasped and huffed, having been knocked back to the sink full of dishes.

“YOU LIKE HURTING US DON’T YOU” her voice came through, patched out of pieces of different tones and inflections. The mare’s head rotated, sinking snout-first into the neck and coming back out. It continued to spiral, leaving behind circling stairs of skin in the air. “ you used to be so sweet”

Finding balance again, the mare stood shorter, her head hanging down, all the thick muscle having disappeared. The wounds that covered most of her body were gone. Piercing holes in her nose, lips, cheeks and ears disappeared. Joy spots on the sides of her mouth went away. A series of stitches on the back of her mostly hairless head was replaced with undamaged skin.

The rhombus tattoo under her eye and the ink on her flanks remained.

Handsome leaned over the sink and lowered her head into the pile of dishes. When she raised it, she stood on a train platform.

The mare sat down on a bench and watched the still scene of a small, blank-flank white unicorn filly being dragged into a train cart by her parents. The filly was reaching for two other blank flanks, a yellow earth pony with a big bow tied into her red mane and an orange pegasus with a pair of stubby wings on her side.

Equestrian Transit

The Vulture walked in on the scene and brushed the pegasus’ purple mane with its regalia-adorned hoof. The sign reading “PONYVILLE-PACKSMULLE” which hung off the train station’s roof began to tilt and bounce. The early morning turned into a dimly lit dirty orange sunset. Trains and ponies began to fast forward by, glowing with toxic hues.

The tall purple alicorn sat down next to Handsome and looked at her. The mare got up and walked to the edge of the platform.

“The world changed. Too much, too soon,” it said. “This story has been happening for a while now. It just got the wrong address.”

“What are you, really? Why are you doing this?” Handsome asked quietly.

“Mistakes are made. One, after another, after another. And trying to fix things only creates more problems,” the Vulture replied, walking up to the unicorn. It pointed at the body beneath its head as it spoke. “Some stories don’t have to end like this. But this one does.”

“How many times has this happened?”

“Too many. Here and elsewhere.”

Vulture blinked. The train station began to change, gaining sleek features. The darkness and the colors suppressed neon crystalline lights. The trains sped by even faster, now smaller and tube-like. The meadows and hills beyond the tracks steadily disappeared, being replaced with tall buildings. The sun and the moon replacing one another in the sky looked bigger and brighter, although more plain.

“There are some who can do a lot, if given the right push. The right idea. The right agenda. What they do sends a ripple through the rest of the world. It changes things.” A wall adorned with a large graffiti depicting a pony in a vulture mask riding a motorcycle into a black mass of changelings appeared. Handsome looked at the Vulture, who pointed at its head. The mare nodded. “But some things you just can’t fix. You can only pack your things and wait.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

“It doesn't.”

A massive porous cavern covered in cocoons appeared, with the body of a large changeling creature laying dead on the ground, two more corpses not far from it - a charred pegasus mare and a magpie griffon in a black vest.

Then, a crystal-adorned throne room full of dead guards, where a tall, skeletal synaptic changeling held a sharp forehoof to a purple alicorn’s neck, while a female minotaur stood by the balcony.

A well-lit office, where a pink pegasus in police uniform lay in a puddle of blood, looking up at an unshaven white earth pony stallion in a blood-covered postal uniform. A rubber mask lay on the floor, off to the side.

“But usually, it is you.”

“Why?”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? It doesn’t seem real. Like the world came apart, put back together wrong.” The Vulture tilted its head and shrugged. “It only gets stranger each time it tries to fix itself.”

“But this is about me, isn’t it?”

“Something here is not as it should be. The world tries to fight. There are roles to fill. Parts to act. You put on a mask.” The Vulture put a hoof on Handsome’s shoulder. The mare shuddered. Once the golden slipper touched her, the ground they stood on began to tilt like everything else. “Don’t you, Handsome?”

Handsome began to laugh. She covered her face up. Once her hooves touched down again, it was gone, replaced by a vulture’s beak.

“If it makes you feel better, it was never meant to be like this,” the Vulture said while Handsome stepped into the train cart. “And in a way, it never was.”

The colors disappeared, as did the quaking. Handsome breathed deep through her beak and flexed her neck. The end of the cabin distanced itself with each step she took. Distant, distorted noises occurred outside, getting quieter with each passing moment.

She passed by closed cab doors. Each had someone inside. She paused next to one of them, looking at the shape of a thin synaptic, who sat next to a mare. The synaptic looked back at her, and Handsome kept walking.

The floor began to rumble and shake. The wheels underneath the train cart rattled against tracks. A bump in the road sent her sliding towards the door of another cabin. Her beak smacked against the door’s window. Handsome lingered for a few moments, watching the insides of the cabin, which had spacious bunks and a balcony that looked down at a body of water. The stallion who laid on a lower bunk jumped up, grabbed a police officer’s hat off the floor and flung it at the door. She backed away.

There was a loud horn. Curtains slid off the train cart’s windows. The speakers activated, and the conductor spoke. Handsome hung her beak and shrugged her shoulders as the sounds echoed through the cart, remaining illegible.

“See? It’s fine. Everyone’s around. It was all just a really bad dream,” a child’s voice came from another cabin with a half-open door. Inside were two fillies and a mare, who was slowly getting up from a bunk.

“It was scary, but it’s over now. Just don’t think about it. It’ll pass on its own,” another child said. Handsome closed the door and went on.

Another cabin contained a distanced view of an entire other cart, with open accommodations. Five mares and two fillies took up places within, some of them talking, others reading or looking at the window. A unicorn mare looked away from her book and shook her head at Handsome.

Looking down at her tattooed, masculine body, covered in cuts and burns, with its fading coat and bulging, sinewy muscles obscured by a formless, worn out black hoodie, she grinned. Behind the window, Ponyville was approaching. A vulture’s beak reflected over the view of the small town.

She walked past more cabins before hearing voices again. It was two mares talking.

“You’ll still be working for someone. Still hurting others. Sometimes not even changelings,” an older mare spoke with a faint accent.

“It’s different,” a younger mare replied.

“How do you mean?”

Handsome took in a deep breath and walked out in front of the mares. Inside the cabin, Handsome looked back at her. Smiling with her scarred lips, she nodded at the one in the door frame and raised a pair of tickets with her magic.

“Because once that mask was done burning, and I was done wailing, I knew I wasn’t supposed to be here,” the unicorn said, her voice twisting and cracking, taking on a higher, cleaner pitch with each syllable. “And so I left.”

“I’m so sorry all of this happened to you, Sweetie,” Rarity told her from across the cabin.

“I don’t really think it did,” Sweetie Belle replied and reclined back onto her bunk. “I just went for a walk. The sun was high… I thought of you.”

Sweetie sang, and the musical note on her flank glittered as the train carried on.

CHAPTER ZERO: Exposed. THE END.

-

April 3rd, 1002 AD NM - 11:49 AM
Canterlot, Equestria
Donut Joe’s Bar

An athletic yellow pegasus mare rocked in her chair, pushing against the table leg with a hind hoof. Sitting opposite her at the table was a lean marble white earth pony stallion, who tapped one of his forehooves against the table, keeping his eyes at the watch on his hoof. He passed another hoof through his curly blonde hair and shook his head.

“Could you have found a lousier place to pass the time?” the mare asked. “I swear, this is just sad. I could have leisurely walked to the palace and back by now, Pillbox.”

“You’re awful jittery today. If I didn’t know you any better, I’d have thought you were excited for the wedding,” the stallion replied, sighing. “It’s a big deal, after all.”

“No need to remind me.” The pegasus stretched her wings and groaned loudly. She stared at a waiter that passed by. “Heard enough buzz all about it, If you get what I mean.”

“Show me a pony who hasn’t, Roadrunner. We just need to sit tight until the spicy elements roll into action.”

A pair of armored guards cantered by, clopping loudly against the cobbled road. The mare winced and rubbed her temples. With a muffled whine, she stopped rocking her chair and sat down on her haunches, her forehooves drooping down.

“I don’t like weddings. I’d rather be anywhere else. You know I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t…” Roadrunner rolled her eyes. “...invited.”

“While I get your distaste of weddings, I’m thinking there’s more to your case of jittery blues. Come on now, I’m a doctor.” Pillbox met the mare’s sharp gaze with one of his own. Roadrunner tilted her head and scrunched her mouth. “As much as you are an athlete, Road, yes. For a long while now. It’s the doping again, isn’t it?”

“Doping, huh?” The mare raised an eyebrow and perked up her ears. Eventually, her eyes widened and she nodded repeatedly. “Ah, yeah, yeah, uh, that. Look, you talk about it like… Urrrgh. I haven’t been doping. That’s the problem. My body, it ain’t liking this, not one bit.”

“That’s just how it works. You get used to the effects, and when they go away, it’s worse than when you began. There’s a reason it’s…” Pillbox paused, scratching his cheek. “A bit of a no-no. I know I wouldn’t use so much of it in your place. Look where you’re at right now. I bet you would’ve ignored the invitation if the dealer wasn’t there.”

Roadrunner rose from her seat and looked around, scanning the few ponies sitting in the cafe’s small terrace and eating their food. She glanced at the cafe interior, tilting her head, watching waiters roam around. Rolling her eyes, the pegasus flexed her neck and leaned against the railing by the table she and her companion sat at.

“Look at this stupid thing in the sky,” she said, pointing a hoof at the pink bubble that encircled the city. “You know I’d have skipped out. This is a mess.” The pegasus’ ear flicked and she frowned, rubbing the back of her neck. “I mean, you can’t see the sun, you can’t see the clouds, the wind is all filtered or something, and this shade of pink? What sort of fruitcake runs the Royal Guard, anyway?”

“Well, I can’t help but agree here. What a ghastly barrier. I suppose they couldn’t cook up anything better on such short notice.” Pillbox shrugged, also frowning. “What with the mysterious threat against Canterlot and all.”

The pegasus grit her teeth and pushed her hooves into her eyes, shaking her head. She turned to the earth pony and looked him in the eyes, talking quietly out the side of her mouth.

“You know, if I were to attack Canterlot on the day of a Royal Wedding, I’d probably have thought a little better than to let them set up a defensive barrier and get on high alert with guards all over the city,” she said. “I can’t help but feel like this mysterious threat is a little bit stupid and whatever’s being plotted is going to turn into a complete clown show.”

“I see where you’re coming from. You became an athlete to get away from having to take orders, after all.” The stallion raised his hooves and shook his head. “But, come now, once today is over you’ll stop being so glum. Remember, this is all just chemistry. It’s how we are. We see this thing through, as silly as it may be, and we get to move on with our lives. Away from all this unpleasantness.”

Roadrunner took a breath and prepared to speak before abruptly stopping. She hung her head and closed her eyes, taking a couple of seconds to exhale instead. The mare’s wings twitched as she rubbed her forehead.

“You really think so? Because, I mean, think about it. It’s the Royal Wedding. Things will be… different after this. One way or another,” she murmured through her teeth, leaning closer to the stallion. “We’re not going back to business as usual.”

“Maybe we pull our weight and all goes well.” Pillbox nodded and looked back in her eyes. “Remember, there’s still plenty of our acquaintances who arrived on short notice, before the whole commotion with the threat.”

The mare took a short jump away from the railing and stomped toward the cafe window. Squinting at the interior for a short while, she turned back and waved the stallion over with her hoof. He followed, catching the door behind the mare as she stomped in the direction of the cafe’s washroom.

Roadrunner busted through the door and stood in front of the mirror, gritting her teeth and blowing strands of her mane away from her eyes. She looked back and squinted, walking past the cabins, knocking on each, finding them all empty. Pillbox’ voice could be heard from outside as he shouted at a waiter.

The mare was splashing her face with water when the stallion came in, closing the door. He rubbed his chin and nodded his head, a green glow forming around the handle as well as an empty space above his head shaped like a jagged horn.

“Come on, Nexus, don’t do this to me. If you pass out right now, I’ll have to eat this garbage all on my own,” Pillbox said, maintaining his voice, but speaking in a different, sharper tone. “The best we can do here is a drone’s insides. That’s just messed up.”

“Nah, I’m, I’m holding up alright, I’ll live. It’s just that… urgh, my head. Gimme a favor and tell me the truth,” Roadrunner chided, staring at the mirror, droplets falling off her face. “Can you feel her right now? Is she there?”

“It’s… well… It’s been a little tense since she had that shouting match with Shining’s sister last evening.” Pillbox stood to the pegasus’ side and looked at his own reflection. “I could hear her seething in my mind, and I was on the other side of town. I think I felt her order Kinesis, or Phase, to track her down and bring her back, but that unicorn’s not been staying alone.”

“Crap. I thought I was just having a bad dream, with all those voices.” Roadrunner’s voice pitched down, sounding more masculine. “So, what about now?”

“Quieter than before, worse than usual. Spill it if it’s important, we might not have much time.”

“I don’t think I want her to win, Synth. Actually, I think it’s gonna be pretty shit if she does.”

Synth slowly turned to Nexus, his eyebrow raising up. He puffed his cheeks and let out a short raspberry, shaking his head. As the earthen stallion rubbed his face, the pegasus mare sighed.

“Yeah, real surprising coming from me, I know. But don’t lie to yourself, Synth. You’ve lived among these guys for just as long as I have,” the mare said, her masculine, quiet voice reverberating. “I mean, the moon still had a face on it when she sent us out.”

“Lots of time to forget you’re just blending in with future food.” Synth puffed his nostrils and smiled. “Our choices aren’t great. Have plenty of sustenance and feel bad for the rest of your life, or keep pretending to be a pony and survive off scraps.”

“Come on, you’re the only other synaptic with half a brain, you gotta—”

“Nexus... I’d usually smack you on the head for this, but I think you may be right this time around,” Synth said. Nexus exhaled loudly and spun in place, shrugging and flexing the pegasus’ wings. “I’m not liking this at all.”

“Yeah! Finally! For once! If only you’d listened then, Synth.” The pegasus raised a hoof and flexed. “Drinking Chrysalis’ puke so you don’t turn feral is pretty disgusting. I mean, it’s what those dumb drones have in their heads, and it’s clearly nothing pretty.”

“Enough already! Should have known better than to compliment you... The Queen clogging your head is one thing, but you’ve missed out on a whole load of nonsense.” Synth stepped away and shuddered, flexing his neck. “All she ever prattles on about, even to us, is this damn wedding. Her plan’s got more holes than a drone’s leg, but it’s ‘this day is going to be perfect this’ and ‘I’m going to have it all’ that. She has drones down there in the caves, guarding the Princess - drones, not even synaptics! Your pony fascination is pretty stupid, but Queen Chrysalis...”

Nexus raised a wing and turned a faucet on with a hoof. He splashed some water on the pegasus’ face.

“Color me surprised. Look, Synth, this really just makes things better. Things are going to go down soon, no one will miss us,” he spoke in a quick whisper, getting closer to Synth and putting a hoof on his shoulder. “Without this bitch breathing down our necks, without her voice in our heads, we could just… Find a place. Adjust. Live on.”

“Nexus, just because I put myself on the line smuggling you the Queen’s brain juice, all so you can live with the pretty ponies, away from us ugly changelings…” The earthen stallion rolled his eyes and took a step back.

“I’m not saying we get married, moron. I’m saying we - yes, us ugly changelings - find a decent community to keep on living in, and find someone to, y’know, feed us consensually.”

Synth frowned and shut his mouth tight. He paced back and forth between the line of cabins and the mirror, puckering his lip. Nexus approached the door and perked up an ear. After a few moments of listening, he shrugged to himself and returned, staring at Synth. The earth pony groaned.

“Sorry to say, but I’m not seeing how we’re getting away from here with a bubble around the city, and hundreds of Chrysalis’ drones lurking around.”

“Hey, according to you, I’m the resident pony lover - so please believe me when I say we can just talk our way around the guards. And drones, let alone hers?” Nexus spat on the floor. “Worst comes to worst, I can wrench the juice out of their empty heads. Last I checked, I could still get my body into fighting condition.” The pegasus’ hoof briefly turned chitinous, with a sharp, jagged edge, that swiftly grew into a sharp, thin appendage, before fizzling back out.

“Well, damn me, Nexus, you’re a synapse potent changeling. I never knew.”

Nexus groaned and stomped his hoof.

“Come on, what else do we do? Sit around and hope she loses? Find her and kill her?”

“Well, that’d mean one of us has to take over as Monarch.”

“Screw you, Synth. I didn’t bring this up for you to consider it, I brought this up so you came to your senses and joined me in legging it out of here before whatever happens, happens!”

“What crawled up your—” Synth began, before leaning forward and falling down on his knees. He took deep, strangled breaths. His eyes bulged, a light shade of their natural cyan glow emitting from beneath the green eyes of his disguise.

There was a dull hum. A sharp, hissing voice became audible. The pegasus’ ears trembled as she looked around, her breath becoming scarce. The voice was not coming neither from outside the washroom, nor from inside it.

Nexus reached out toward the other changeling before freezing in place. The mare’s mouth quivered. Groaning, he lunged toward the earth stallion and smacked him on the head, which caused the glow to disappear.

“No, not now, not now…” Nexus whispered.

Scrambling against the floor tiles, he bucked at the door and sped out of the cafe. He dragged Synth in his hooves, propelling himself forward with the pegasus’ wings.

“Oh my gosh, do you need a doctor?!” a waitress cried out as the two flew past her.

“SCREW OFF, HE IS A DOCTOR!” Nexus shouted in response, the pegasus mare’s voice blending together with the changeling’s.

Synth started to move in the mare’s hooves when they crossed the street. His eyes glowed again, and his mouth moved as he mumbled under his breath. Nexus pushed through streets, tumbling over pedestrians and nearly running into several carts.

The mare’s eyes darted swiftly, focusing on guards whenever they came into view, which would cause him to change directions and go down alleys, hiding between buildings. Nexus glanced at the bubble in the sky and his grip on Synth loosened, leaving the other synaptic to fall down on the ground of the cul-de-sac they had reached. The pink shield rippled, being banged at by hundreds of small black figures.

The changeling looked ahead, where the city streets were cut off by one of the mountain’s natural drops, and moved to pick Synth back up. The earth pony grit his teeth, through which the changeling fangs were showing. His eyes were shut tight, and his hooves knocked on his head. The hissing voice grew louder.

Nexus was picking him up when armored hoofsteps came from up the road. He paused to look around. He began to raise his forehooves at the Royal Guard approaching the two of them when his eyes rolled back and his knees buckled.

NEXUS the voice hissed directly in his mind. The mare’s mouth moved to coincide with the voice’s speech. GO TO PALACE

The changeling threw his head back, pushing his hooves against his head. The guard paused a short distance away from him. They spoke, their words remaining inaudible over the noise of the voice.

I AM DISCOVERED

OUTNUMBERED

SHE KNOWS

The guard squinted and took a step back, their jaw hanging open. They gasped, staring at the green sparkles coming out of the two changelings’ eyes and mouths, as well as their invisible horns.

Nexus’ lips mimicked the words, distorted, echoing buzzing and clicking coming out of his mouth. Clutching their teeth, the Guard cantered towards him.

AND

The pony stopped in front of the changeling and raised an armored forehoof. They took in a deep breath.

April 3rd, 1002 AD NM - 1:19 PM

KILL. THEM. ALL.

The guard’s breath expired in a wheeze as they fell backwards, Nexus lunging forward with a shrill, reverberating scream. In the fall, the pony’s helmet flew off. Before the grey stallion brought up his hooves to protect his uncovered face, the synaptic was on top of him, drooling cyan saliva and hissing loudly. The changeling’s disguise flickered off, exposing his tall, black chitin frame.

The pony opened up his mouth, only a muffled whimper coming out. He coughed and gurgled, swiping at his throat when Nexus’ sharp foreleg stabbed through it. Blood sprayed all over the changeling’s face and chest, dripping into his open maw and coating his fangs.

The sharp cyan glow of Nexus’ eyes toned down in spurts as he contorted over the dead stallion’s body. His wings buzzed loudly, jittering against his flank. With a moan, he threw himself back, the glowing settling to a lower extent. Rising back up, he stared at the body laying in a puddle of blood, its hooves clinging to its neck, and then at himself, covered in fresh blood. Nexus’ vertical pupils shrunk as he swerved in place, gasping, before vomiting a stream of cyan substance filled with green chunks.

The changeling looked around. There was loud shouting, sounds of armor clanging and magical explosions coming from nearby streets. There was buzzing of changeling wings in the air. The voice’s words kept being distantly repeated, echoing from within all nearby changelings with some delay. The pink bubble over the city was gone, replaced by dozens of dashing black dots with cyan highlights. Synth was nowhere to be found.

His teeth clattering, Nexus galloped toward the city wall and the exit visible a few sloping streets down the quarter. Having made it down a block, he collapsed, his eyes flashing cyan and his mouth opening on its own.

NEXUS

The changeling’s eyes returned to normal when he was halfway down another street, heading in the opposite direction. The Royal Palace’s spires were visible further ahead. A large chunk of the roof of one of the parts was missing, smoke coming from within. Nexus’ hooves ground to a halt, scraping against the cobblestone.

His eyes darted around. Drones flew above the street, circling a small number of pegasus guards. Up the block, at the crossroads, two guards were holding off a large pack of over a dozen drones. Civilian ponies scampered around, running for the nearby buildings - shops, houses and cafes.

A pony ran out of a diner he stopped by, nearly running into him. She screamed, staring at his bloodstained chitinous hide, and immediately darted back in. Nexus shook, his eyes glowing brighter again, and followed her into the building. Shouting followed immediately. Ponies gathered behind a single guard, who stomped their hoof and pointed at Nexus, shouting.

P A I N

The changeling’s hooves dug into the floor tiles as his neck tilted and his wings buzzed. He grit his teeth, hissing. The lights in his eyes fluctuated. He began to approach the guard, moving his hooves little by little, his entire body tensing up. Nexus’ head shook when the pony took a step back and began to charge at him.

The changeling’s body swerved, dodging the guard, hitting their side with an elbow as they passed him by. The guard’s armor clanged against the floor tiles. Nexus hopped on top of them and dribbled bits of synapse on their face, his jagged hoof raised and shuddering in the air. When the pony began to wrestle from underneath him, the changeling groaned loudly and brought his hoof down, the bladed end scratching the helmet.

As his forehoof made the impact, Nexus’ eyes returned to normal, the jagged end softening back to normal. Letting out a hissing growl, he grabbed the guard’s head, raised it close to his face, and stared in the stallion’s eyes, puffing his nostrils. His horn lit up, and his pupils widened, before being replaced with the guard’s, as well as the rest of his body. The magic began to fizzle as it formed the suit of armor around his chest and hooves, creating replicas that lacked the ornaments.

Before the pony continued struggling, Nexus smashed this helmeted head against the floor, repeating several times before the guard cried out and began trying to put his hooves up. The changeling jumped off, leaving the guard stretched on the floor, clutching his head. Nexus tilted his head, locks of a grey mane falling onto the side of his head, and approached the guard again, kicking him in the abdomen and grabbing the helmet.

The changeling looked back at the civilians huddled in the corner, who looked on shaking all over, their jaws hanging off. Several of them shouted as he looked, one pony barreling through the diner’s window with a lengthy screech. Nexus scowled, put on the helmet and ran for the staff door. Making it inside, he knocked away a loudly screaming pony in an apron who thrust at him with a broom, and climbed onto the roof through a maintenance staircase.

THE COURTYARD

His disguise flickered temporarily, shifting through images of the grey guard, the changeling, and the yellow pegasus. He waddled to the railing and peered over the diner’s sign. The palace, several streets away, was surrounded by a swarm of drones, which was continuously holed through by magical bursts of varying color. The guards that were not tied in combat with drones were rallying in its direction. A few straggled, staying with civilians as they hid inside buildings and alleyways. Teleport spells fizzled and popped all around, percussing through the steady buzz of changeling wings and loud shouting.

Nexus cracked his neck and took a running start, leaping on to the roof of a building across the street. His wings beat, appearing through cracks that had fizzled into the armor. It sealed itself back as he ran onward, crossing the shorter gaps between buildings with regular jumps. The short, two-story buildings stretched in the palace’s direction with only occasional alleyways in between. The changeling’s eyes darted around, locking onto guards below and the occasional pegasi flying by. He continued undetected above the fighting on the ground.

When he approached the end of the block, the buzzing of wings got louder, culminating in a group of three hissing drones lowering their altitude and circling around him. Nexus planted his hooves in place and bent down, the silhouette of his horn glowing in thin air. The drones floated motionless for a moment before their blank eyes began to glow. They twitched and set off towards the palace.

One remained in the air, setting down in front of Nexus when the others flew away.

HER FRIENDS HOLD US BACK

The changeling shouted in the pony’s voice and rushed the drone. The momentum took both their bodies off the roof and onto the street, creating a loud, wet, clangy impact as the drone was crushed between his weight and the cobblestones.

I HAD CONTROL

After flexing his limbs after the impact, he smashed its skull with a hoof and shuddered as the vapor of the drone’s leaking synapse passed into his body. Several voices picked up in near vicinity, Nexus spinning in their direction. Exhaling, he saluted with a synapse-covered hoof at a pair of cheering guards, before taking off up towards the center of fighting.

Having barreled through a railing in the alleyway, he paused and rubbed his chest with a synapse-stained hoof. The synapse disappeared, and the changeling shuddered again, swiftly licking his lips. He gulped and moved onward, before stumbling over and clutching his head, his disguise flickering.

NEXUS

The changeling growled and threw himself at the walls, kicking against the ground. Nexus’ eyes rolled back as he settled in one place. He bit his lower lip, creating trinkles of simulated blood when it switched back to the guard. Nexus took slow, deep breaths, and put a hoof forward.

I AM IN PAIN

He was galloping up a street. The sharp chitin on his forehooves clattered against the stones. cyan drool dribbled out of his open maw. His eyes refocused moments before impacting a backpedaling guard, and his own guard visage reappeared, putting simulated armor in ahead of impact. The mare he rammed into was launched back, hitting a light post with her head, bending the pole.

Nexus spat on the ground and groaned. He spun his head, backing away from the pony as she recovered. The road he stood on sloped upwards past the damaged light post, crowded with civilians scampering to get to the top. No more guards appeared in the vicinity. The sounds of fighting were louder, the buzzing of drones having become a consistent, low-pitched hum, interspersed with hissing, chittering and clicking. Piercing loud magical explosions sounded off in the near distance.

As the female guard began to get up, the changeling turned around and bucked her in the abdomen, the simulated armored horseshoe of another guard leaving a dent in her chest plate. The pony yelped in pain and went into a coughing fit. She remained on the ground, clutching her chest, as the changeling backed away, his disguise fading away.

Nexus headed for a wide alley, wheezing and shaking. Luminescent slime oozed out of his half-opened mouth. He raised his head, squinting at the shape of the Palace visible beyond the small houses, shops and gardens ahead. An entire tower was missing, the white marble charred with smoke. Drones swarmed around the remaining walls and turrets. Colored flashes of spells cast off on the walls and gleamed off the armor of guards. A loud, reverberating, chittering feminine screech came from the palace grounds, continuing to echo despite Nexus putting hooves over his ear holes. The synaptic gurgled and vomited out a brief cyan stream.

As he cleared his throat, he froze. A trio of guards skidded to a halt, having entered the alley from the other side. The two earth ponies stayed in place with their own mouths hanging open, while the unicorn took a second before crying out and pointing at Nexus. Her horn began to light up. The changeling spat out the last of his vomit and nearly instantly flashed into the yellow pegasus. He took up into the air when the unicorn’s projectile passed through where he used to stand.

Speeding upwards with the mare’s wings, the changeling crossed the street the guards came running from, flying over the horde of glow-eyed drones. The mare’s ears twitched when the changeling passed her eyes over the figure at the back of the drones. He squinted at the royal guard that stood at the back of the horde, surrounded by the bodies of several others. After a moment, the guard was replaced by a bulky synaptic covered all over in blood.

Nexus scowled and shook his head, turning towards the palace. Flapping the mare’s wings, he made it to a large garden. Drones swarmed in the air, most flying past, some stopping and hissing at the pegasus mare before being shoved or bucked out of the way. Another loud feminine cry came from the palace, this time a pony’s. Nexus grit his teeth and sighed, flying onwards.

A tight formation of absent-faced drones with bright glowing eyes flew straight at him, ignoring the pegasus’ movement as she dove underneath them. Upon rising, the changeling froze, his eyes peering through the disguise with a bright cyan light.

aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The first scream echoed back. The pegasus’ body plummeted down into the garden, as did the bodies of multiple other synaptics. They all shouted, copying the piercing voice.

chhhiiilllDDDREEEEEENNN

Nexus’ pegasus body hit a massive, thick lilypad floating in the garden’s pond, submerging him briefly before floating back out. The glow of his eyes flickered off as he gasped and rolled around. His slit pupils darted back and forth, staring at the sky, while the pegasus’ body heaved and shuddered. Voices of ponies emerged from the shore, a few meters away, blending together as they turned to shouting. Nexus propped himself up, finding balance on the floating pad, and began to unfurl the pegasus’ wings before his jaw hung off and his eyes rolled back.

...Ikrix...Pulse...Spire...Kinesis...Hornet...Phase…

He was hammering his hooves against the wet soil, luminescent drool dripping from his fangs. Pausing, Nexus moved his head, his eyes following with a delay. He stared at a civilian pony laying on the grass in front of him. They were crawling away, leaving a small trail of blood that poured out of their broken nose. Nexus choked and swayed, unsteadily stepping to the side, stumbling as his body flickered between disguises. The ponies’ voices began to distance as he barreled into the garden proper.

He dodged armored silhouettes that reoccured between the trees, running between thickly placed trees. Groups of ponies populated open spaces, with guards staying at the perimeter. The racket and calls for alarm dropped in volume as the garden grew thicker. With an echoing gasp, they disappeared, overshadowed by the voice.

...AsphyxShiftIrisThoraxSearinoxParallaxPolistaeSpecula…

Nexus pulled his foreleg out of a tree trunk. The leg’s sharp, jagged end tore through the wood, releasing with a crack. He raised his scythe-like forelegs to his face and rolled his eyes, gurgling. His mouth moved, following the voice. The changeling squinted and huffed, shaking all over, and his forelegs reverted back.

Getting up and moving towards the sounds of battle, Nexus cleared the thick, dark grove, stumbling through swarms of fireflies and swatting away moths. Narrowly avoiding walking into a tree, the changeling looked up at the sun, obscured by hundreds of drones. Slowly, he began to backpedal, and as another scream began to sound off, he started into a gallop through the grove, running back into the garden’s depth.

...larvacyanincendrixsynthliqoimagocorpus…

The changeling stood on the roof of a building overlooking the palace square. His nostrils puffed. A tight group of drones surrounded him, their eyes glowing, along with his horn. The palace grounds were visible down below, with hedges and fences being scaled by charging drones. A clearing was situated near the smoking hole that lead to the palace proper.

Nexus’ pupils dilated as he scanned past a small number of armored guards at the outer edges. His mouth watered and he began to hiss, staring at five ponies contained within the clearing. The changeling’s breath ran ragged, his chitin emitting a squeak as he slowly turned himself away from the scene. With a breath and a muffled moan, he bashed a nearby drone, hammering its head with his hooves before its synapse spilled on the ground. Nexus gulped before biting into the glowing neural cortex, and sucked it up, sputtering and coughing, the hot liquid burning at his chitin.

The glow of his horn faded, and his eyes turned to normal, while the voice faded away. The changeling charged through the drones and took flight, speeding to the nearby platform that opened into a sheer drop down Canterlot’s mountainous base.

...pharynxdopplemiasma N E X U S

Nexus stumbled backwards, pulling his foreleg out of a guard’s neck. Loud clattering, clanging and growling surrounded the area. The changeling swayed on unsteady legs, his eyes going from the fresh blood covering his body to the corpse on the ground. Multiple other guards behind it were being beaten down by a horde of drones. Nexus began to back away as shrill wailing mixed in with the clanging and hissing. He walked into a deformed hedge figure.

A synaptic walked up to Nexus and stared at him. Their eyes were glowing bright cyan, obscuring the pupils. They stayed in place for a moment, their mane flowing in the wind generated by magical blasts. When Nexus began to back away, their wide open eyes abruptly turned into a frown, and they shoved him away with a snarl. The changeling flailed, rolling a short distance after losing balance. Rising and looking up, he shuddered, his eyes taking on the cyan glow. He lay on the ground in front of the clearing.

An orange earth pony, coated in sweat and bleeding from several cuts, bucked away drones, knocking rows away with each kick. A pink earth pony dashed from side to side in a blur, pushing drones into cyan magical bursts released by synaptics, some of the blasts burning through her puffy mane. In the sky above, a blue pegasus sped around groups of aerial drones, at least several dozen following her. At the broken palace steps, a yellow pegasus fluttered over Shining Armor. His eyes darted sporadically, scanning past several surrounded guards, landing briefly on a purple burst of magic hitting the wall within the palace.

In the middle, a smaller white unicorn, a mare, stood in place with her head held high, her teeth grinding, bleeding through her nose. Her horn shone with a subtle blue aura, which went into the transparent field around the ponies, upon entering which the drones lost momentum and opened themselves up. Nexus winced as multiple drones were launched over where he lay. Taking a sharp breath, he stopped a nearby drone and supported himself with its back before kicking it into the barrier.

Within the palace, Queen Chrysalis’ body smashed into the wall, oozing green and cyan out of gaping wounds. Nexus crouched and squinted, looking first at the mares in the field, then at his forelegs.

NEXUS.

He jumped in place, bright cyan light bursting through his eyes, nostrils, mouth and ear holes. Coming back down, his body contorted, a distorted, echoing guffaw coming out of his wide open mouth. His knees bent, bringing his chest to the ground. The flashing light taking over his eyes sent the pupils in and out of dilation. When a new wave of drones rushed at the mares, his horn was set alight, and Rainbow Dash’s visage came over his body.

The pegasus’ hind hoof kicked at the ground and her wings flapped hard. There was a shrieking cry in her voice. Rainbow Dash’s body avoided the trajectory the real Rainbow Dash was at, knocking down several flying drones on its way. It neared the center of the clearing.

The pegasus’ teeth ground together, fangs phasing through, dribbling with shining saliva. Down below, Rarity’s eyes turned to the changeling. The unicorn tilted her head and took a step back, mouthing inaudibly. The blue aura faltered for a second, and the pegasus’ body moved to point its hind hooves at her. Rarity’s eyes darted, following the multicolor blur of the real Rainbow Dash. While she shouted, the changeling darted towards her.

The field reappeared, slowing his descent, but the remaining speed was enough for the impact to launch the unicorn several meters away. As the barrier disappeared entirely, Rainbow Dash got up on her hooves and emitted distorted huffs, stomping past Applejack, who struggled with a drone on her back. There was a long, high-pitched noise as smoke filled the clearing, coming from where Pinkie Pie rolled on the ground with a large hole burned in her mane. Fluttershy’s voice picked up in the distance as she left Shining Armor and ran towards Rarity. The disguise fizzled off Nexus’ body.

Rarity was crawling back when the changeling leapt on top of her. His eyes ceased flickering for a moment while he raised his forehoof. The mare’s voice cracked as she stared at him, shaking her head and putting up shaking hooves. In a cyan blur, the changeling’s forehoof grew into a scythe-like appendage.

Nexus looked away when it stabbed through the mare’s chest, coming out the other end. It struck with enough force to get lodged into the ground. With a heavy quake and a nearby hissing scream, the light in his eyes went away.

He spun his neck, tracking the others while pulling at the foreleg lodged in the ground, when a gust of wind hit him in the face. It was paired with a bright blue flash, which persisted for a few moments before dying down. The wind did the same, with the changeling’s body rising into the air, only kept attached by his leg in the ground. Nexus grunted, shielding his face with the free hoof. When he landed back on the unicorn’s corpse and opened his eyes, both the drones and the mares were gone.

The palace was in ruins. Within, Shining Armor stood on kneeling legs, his horn charred and fizzling. Nexus lost breath and froze in place when he looked at Queen Chrysalis, whose bleeding, smoking body was pressed into a wall. He began to heave and wheeze in unison with her. His eyes shrunk, trembling, like Chrysalis’ did.

“...Cadence..” Nexus’ mouth moved, silently repeating her words. His lips and tongue grazed over Rarity’s dead body. “...Don’t do this, or she…”

“Where is—” Shining Armor’s voice echoed in, both from the distance, and from within Nexus’ head. “Where is she? Answer me!”

“Don’t even listen to her!” a younger mare screamed loudly. Nexus’ mouth went into a heavy scowl when Twilight Sparkle stomped closer to Queen Chrysalis’ pinned body. “She has done nothing but lie! Look at what her army is doing - we can’t stand for this!”

“...She is hidden…” Nexus coughed up green slime that did not originate in his throat. “...My children, I won’t be able to…”

Nexus winced and whined, shaking and bending his spine. In the palace, Chrysalis slid down from the imprint she left in the wall, a smoking scorch mark in the center of her cracked green chest plate.

“Listen. To. Me!” Twilight Sparkle’s voice reverberated through the area, and within his thoughts. “I refuse to be fooled by you, not any longer! None of us will! You lied, you cheated, you stole my brother’s love and you wanted Equestria all for yourself! Your let your changelings rampage through this city like wild animals - but we beat you! My friends are out there, fighting your army, getting hurt because of you! I did not fall for your tricks back when I first saw you, and I will not do it again!”

The changeling struggled to pull at the leg lodged within Rarity’s body. It only moved a few inches, leaving him shuddering in place while mimicking the Queen’s movements. A tall, dark blue figure walked closer to Twilight Sparkle, Shining, and Chrysalis. The alicorn looked away from the Queen and stared at Nexus.

“Twilight? Oh no, Twilight, your friends—” Princess Luna raised her voice, her words layering over themselves in Nexus’ head. Twilight had by then begun screaming into Queen Chrysalis’ face.

“You… wanted to turn my friends away from me! Just like Discord did! You’re… just as bad as him! You’re WORSE!” Nexus winced at the shrieking volume of the mare’s voice. Princess Luna looked away from him and began to pull at Twilight’s side. The purple mare swatted her away. Nexus’ carapace moistened from the mare’s heavy breathing against Chrysalis’ snout. “Me and my friends can find Cadence without your help. You… What you did… My brother, this city… Ponies have died! My friends could have been killed!”

“Twilight—” Luna began, never finishing.

“...Stupid pony, you don’t understand, my army...”

Twilight Sparkle smashed her forehoof into Queen Chrysalis’ face and backed away, panting. Luna was silent, supporting Shining, who half-sat, bleeding. Princess Celestia cautiously approached the unicorn from the back.

“What you don’t understand is that unlike your awful hive, Equestria is a wholesome unity, made up of wonderful individuals!” The mare stopped, taking a breath. A brief, choked sob reverberated in Nexus’ mind. “Like my friends - and you thought you could turn them away from me! But you, you are EVIL!”

Nexus’ pupils filled his irises when Twilight’s horn lit up brightly, and a concentrated purple beam hit Chrysalis in the face. The Queen’s head split open, letting the beam reach her neural cortex. The changeling’s body twisted as bright cyan light came out of every orifice.

There was a blazing, flaring black flash and a scratching, roaring whir of wind. A stallion shouted loudly, getting cut off when an explosion went off in the palace. Pieces of debris flew through the air. The overwhelming black flash changed color in rapid bursts, green tentacle formations taking it over. The changeling’s body rose into the air, Rarity’s corpse being moved slightly on the ground.

When the spell went out, the city was quaking.

Nexus lay on top of the dead mare for a short time, unmoving. Then, he shook and let out a long, drawn-out series of growling clicking noises. His forehoof returned to its normal shape, the soil it was stuck in spreading out. His orifices lit up with a bright green light. Many other green lights came from all around, seconded with more clicking and growling.

Rearing and buzzing his wings, Nexus spread his saliva and stared at the ponies within the palace with blank eyes. The purple mare was sitting on her haunches with her hooves around her head. Between her and the Queen’s headless corpse was the white stallion, whose front was charred to the bone. Nexus reared and hissed as the purple mare’s horn lit up, followed by a long, wailing shriek.

He galloped back, running over Fluttershy’s mangled body, and joining a large mass of hissing, growling, salivating changelings that radiated green.

A thick purple orb landed in his wake, scorching a number of feral drones and leaving a crater in the ground. He weaved through the feral changelings, bypassing a tight circle that was ripping into the pink earth pony. Twilight’s screaming blended into hers, before Pinkie Pie’s cut out. Nexus skidded to a halt, watching the next projectile. His blank eyes passed briefly over the mare’s body being torn in half, with a dense group of drones hammering their hooves against it on both sides.

The green light in his eyes weakened for a moment, temporarily flickering cyan, before returning. He ran further away before another spell burned a path through the drones.

The changeling vaulted over the fence and landed on the back of two drones bashing a dead guard’s head into the road. He buzzed his wings, getting up, and shoved his way through a tight string of feral drones.

His neck spun to the side, and he followed in that direction. He rammed through drones that gathered near a crater in the wall of a building. Rainbow Dash gradually dislodged herself from the imprint, falling down on the ground and coughing up blood. Nexus ran off before the mare was swarmed.

He whimpered, his blood-stained hooves briefly budging. Gurgling, he shook his head and grabbed the nearest drone, which flared bright green in his face. Nexus shut his eyes and threw it down as it wrestled against his grip. He brought his hind hoof down on its face, tilting sideways when it landed multiple blows against his legs and flank. Its head cracked.

Nexus scowled and choked down a whine while removing the rest of its cranial carapace. The green lights began to come back on, but he bit into the drone’s cortex and sucked at the steaming liquid. The liquid itself had turned green.

Nexus backed out once the cortex had run dry, the glow failing to return. A feral synaptic stood in front of him as he rose from the ground, staring with blank, shining eyes, while his mane moved in the air. The feral changeling breathed deep, puffing his nostrils and slowly tilting his head.

Nexus backpedaled when the synaptic began to bare his fangs and growl. He mouthed to himself as his eyes passed over Applejack’s corpse that lay behind the feral synaptic, surrounded by several dead drones. Nexus suppressed a gurgle welling in his throat and turned around, slipping through a row of drones that scuttled in the wake of another feral synaptic.

The other changeling’s dark green magical burst thinned them out, burning into the pony herself. The next moment, a massive purple beam burst through the fence, disintegrating the entire line of drones and leaving a gaping hole in a building.

While Nexus navigated the feral horde, shoving and kicking away thrashing drones, he made distance from Twilight’s magical assault. Chittering, clicking, growling, snapping bones and tearing flesh drowned out the mare’s sharp, wailing screeches and booming bursts of magic. Two more voices were audible before little else was audible on Nexus’ end of the street, where a crossroads was fully packed with drones, which picked apart bodies of several guards and civilian ponies situated in the middle.

His knees occasionally budging, he slipped past multiple synaptics, which clicked and growled, drones halting and moving after them whenever they came close. Breathing through his teeth, Nexus forced himself through the tight, rapidly contorting herds. Near a flower store at the corner of the palace-side street, two herds bumped into one another, leading to the synaptics at their charge leaping at each other.

Nexus took a step back as they fired their horns, dark green blasts hitting in all directions. He lit up his own horn, the pegasus’ disguise beginning to appear, before fizzling out. Hissing, the changeling buzzed his wings and ascended the roof of the store, grabbing onto parts of the decor with his hooves. When he looked down, one of the synaptics was kicking at the other’s face, distorted laughs blending into the noises they made. The dead synaptic’s herd joined theirs. Nexus winced.

There were fewer feral changelings in the streets further away from the palace. Surviving royal guards held alleys and buildings, groups of drones funneling into chokepoints and battering at the armored ponies. Pegasus guards dashed across the skies, heading to different parts of the city. A large shadow passed over Nexus as he jumped across rooftops. He looked up and followed the route of a pegasus-pulled convoy of empty chariots. It was heading to the palace, while more similar convoys were visible in the distance, aiming for other parts of the city.

The changeling paused and bit his lip. He let out a stifled whine and cleared his throat, resting his hooves on the edge of the roof. Almost immediately, he crouched, putting only the top of his head over the railing. A short distance down the road, a thick crowd of ponies grouped together at the remains of a marketplace. Pegasi with binoculars floated above them, while earth pony and unicorn guards held at the perimeter, some taking cover behind destroyed stalls. Most of the crowd were civilian ponies, which remained in the center of the marketplace. One of the pegasi turned around, pointing at an arch with a hoof and talking. Nexus leaned in closer, watching in the direction the guard pointed.

A half dozen guards emerged from under the arch, escorting more civilians. They were stopped before being able to join the crowd, the two groups of guards beginning to talk over one another. Three fillies ran out of their escort, rushing to the marketplace guards. They shouted, a white blank flank unicorn being the loudest and most audible.

“We need to get back, please! My sister is in there, I won’t leave without—” the filly screamed, eventually being cut off as all three were immediately dragged into the bigger crowd. The other civilians and the guards bunched up together, trying to get in as well.

“Everypony, calm down! Foals go first! Then the mares, then everyone else!” a magically amplified order came from the side of the market.

Nexus breathed in and shut his eyes, bending down and grunting. His horn sparked sporadic green sparks, his visage blurring for a moment. The blur persisted for a second before fading off, his body staying the same.

“So much for Roadrunner…” the changeling mumbled and spat on the ground.

After pacing back and forth for a short while, he jumped down the building and headed to a parallel street. Shortly after he made it into the alley, another group of guards and civilians made their way through. Nexus hid behind the corpse of a guard that was stuck in a synapse web. The changeling clicked and gurgled, putting his hooves to his mouth, but continued after gulping down and breathing in.

Nexus’ eyes widened as he snuck through on to the street. It was vacant of guards or changelings, with dead bodies nearly everywhere. Drones piled up on bodies of guards, liquifying into steaming green synapse. Mangled corpses of regular ponies were strewn around, some of them dismembered. Nexus jumped when a magical burst sounded off up the street. A long-haired synaptic stood near a building, ponies huddled by the closed doors. Green bolts fired from his horn seared through the bodies of drones that followed him.

Nexus flexed his shoulders and exhaled, descending the street, his hooves clicking against the stones as he avoided stepping on corpses. His eyes darted, scanning the bodies. Clicking his tongue and frowning, the changeling bent to the ground, turning over a few ponies that were left laying face down. The shadow of an escort carriage passed over the street, heading in the direction of the marketplace. Nexus stomped his hoof and left the gashed, disfigured corpses behind.

The street led into a small plaza, which proceeded into a steep set of stairs. The fountain in its middle continued to work, washing over the bodies of a guard and a synaptic. Nexus cantered inside, passing through an archway. He jumped over a large piece of debris left from a collapsed statue to the entrance’s side, immediately scanning the area for bodies. Taking a step back, he nearly tripped, as a soft object nearly gave way under his hoof.

Looking behind, Nexus stopped. He eyed the body of a light purple, blonde unicorn filly, which lay face down, mainly intact, save for its lower half being buried underneath rubble. The changeling breathed slowly, fangs biting into the chitin of his lips. He emitted a low hum, going into a low, whistling moan. Grimacing, Nexus pulled at the filly’s mane, looking at her face, which suffered no damage safe for bruises and the blood around her snout.

“Oh, fuck me...” he muttered after a gulp. “This is how it’s gotta be, huh?”

Nexus spread his shoulders, took in a deep breath and looked in the dead filly’s yellow eyes. His lips trembling, he touched horns with her, putting hers at a spot where his horn jagged. Hoofsteps sounded off behind him, stopping abruptly.

As he slowly exhaled, the changeling’s horn lit up, sending a spark into the filly’s, which briefly activated a weak, transparent magical aura. His green aura merged with hers, and the filly’s body began to shake, as did his.

Nexus’ body began to blur. It twisted and morphed, green tendrils shooting off, reaching into the filly. Whistling and scratching accompanied the cracking of chitin, and a deep hum resonating from within the changeling. His voice broke through with a cry, starting quiet before turning into a prolonged shout, which then began to crack, gaining a higher pitch.

Behind the hazy blur and the green tendrils, his body had shrunk, chunks of excess chitin popping off and littering the ground. When the changeling’s cries were completely replaced by the filly’s, his body fit size and proportions, the back forming after the front had been finished.

The echoing undertones disappeared from her whines and screams, which then gradually quieted down into sobs and wheezes. The filly breathed and cleared her throat, at which point there was a loud pop. The blurry aura and the tendrils faded away, leaving a copy of the dead filly next to her corpse. As the residual humming disappeared, shouting, clicking, and loud clopping of hooves became audible again. Her ears folded.

“I’m Dinky… D-doo?” the filly slurred, taking unsteady steps. “I… I’m adopted… I live here, but my mom—”

Dinky’s body fell over as she fixed her eyes on a figure on the other side of the plaza. It was pegasus mare, clothed in a tight, dark orange straitjacket, with belts hanging off its sides, and cut up sleeves dragging behind the hooves. Her eyes, the same yellow color as Dinky’s, were staring at the filly’s corpse. The mare’s jaw hung agape, while her head jittered and one of her eyelids was twitching.

The changeling rose to the filly’s hunches and gazed at the mare. Dinky’s horn briefly sparkled. Her whole body shuddered and began to rise.

“Wait… but—”

As the clopping and shouting continued around the plaza, another carriage flying it over, the mare slowly turned her head and glared at the changeling. She never blinked, tears rolling from her bloodshot eyes. Taking wide, stomping steps, the pegasus closed distance with Dinky’s body, clattering her teeth and taking choking, sporadic breaths.

Dinky’s mouth opened to speak, but she only let out a squeak as the mare roared, banging her hooves on the ground. Spreading tears and saliva over the filly’s body, she leapt at it and clutched its head in her hooves. Her eyes continued to stare, the vessels beginning to pop out. With another roar, which made her voice crack and turn into a hoarse whisper, the pegasus began bashing the filly’s head against the pavement.

Nexus swatted at her with the filly’s small hooves, which the mare ignored. Red blood began to sprinkle onto the stones, immediately starting to lose its color. Dinky’s yelling gave off an echo, occasionally dipping lower. A guttural, chittering noise left the filly’s throat. The mare raised her, pushing their faces together. She was still crying.

Dinky’s body dropped to the ground as the pegasus lost her grip, yelping and snapping around. A synaptic stood behind her, staring at the scene with clear, unlit eyes. The synaptic’s long horn lit up, and a bolt was shot in the mare’s direction. She rolled off to the side and pounced once her hooves touched ground. The other changeling was knocked down, and the mare choked down a sob before letting out a scratchy growl. Bending down, the pony clutched a pointed rock in her hooves and smashed the synaptic’s face with it.

There was a sound of snapping chitin. Raising her hooves high, the mare sobbed again, puffing her nostrils. Before the rock came down, it was stopped with a green aura, leaving the mare to lose balance. While her hind hooves temporarily dislodged from his, the changeling wriggled away and kicked her in the chest. As the mare bounced back a short distance, he got up and let out a sharp hiss.

The pegasus crouched to pounce again. Before she took off, the changeling’s horn illuminated. The rock shot up from the ground, slicing through the air. A loud yelp came from the pegasus, followed by a wheezing gurgle, with which she collapsed onto the ground, He hacked and roared, bucking the mare’s side and turning her over. There was a wide, long, gaping wound in her neck. Her breaths whistled and gurgled. Blood streamed out of the wound as the mare moved her lips, making incoherent, raspy noises.

“Crazy whore,” Synth said. He smashed the rock into the mare’s eye. “Get lost.”

He kicked her again as she lay bleeding, her limbs twitching. Turning around to where Nexus lay in the filly’s body, he covered his face with a hoof.

“Nexus, you idiot…” Synth sighed, kneeling down next to him as he moaned in the filly’s voice. He took her body in his hooves. “What did you do to yourself?”

“This is so fucked up,” Nexus whispered, coughing.

“You bound yourself to a cadaver. A foal’s cadaver, Nexus.” The long-maned synaptic shook his head, rubbing the large gash over his left eye. “I really should leave you behind…”

Synth’s horn lit up, giving him the disguise of a burly, brown earth pony royal guard. He put Dinky’s body on his back and cantered towards the marketplace.

July 24, 1003 AN - 11:28 AM
Packsmulle, Equestria
Muffin Corner

...claiming that Princess Mi Amora Cadenza and Royal Guard Captain Shining Armor could have prevented the tragic losses Equestria sustained in the Crystal Empire. Sovereign Princess Twilight Sparkle urged to avoid blaming the changelings for…

Nexus heaved and let out a wet cough. Green droplets fell on the floor, some of the liquid seeping through the worn floorboards. Pressing his forehooves into the reading table, the changeling groaned, arching his back with a series of loud popping, hissing noises.

His jagged hooves grazed against the newspapers, crumpling them and leaving a few small tears. Nexus shut his eyes and rubbed his head when the voices of the crowd outside picked up again. A gust of wind from the window threw some of the newspapers to the floor. Propping his elongated, sunken-in snout onto crossed hooves, the changeling skimmed through the nearest paper.

...the rotation of the celestial bodies. Concerns were also raised regarding the stability of the magical order of things, as little progress has reportedly been made on restoring the functionality of the Elements of Harmony. The Princess used the opportunity to blame the continued inflammation of the Wedding War…

Behind him, a grey earth mare lay on the bed, her chest slowly raising and lowering. Her abdomen and head were covered in bandages, which glowed a soft green. The light was particularly bright around the abdomen and the right side of her head. She had no right ear. Her eyes were closed.

The changeling slowly slid off the chair and took gentle steps towards the bed. His body wavered on the disproportionately tall, thin legs. A loud bang sounded off in the distance, followed by a light quaking. Nexus’ eyes darted to the folding table next to the mare’s bed, and the metal tray on top. The tools, vials, syringes and bandage rolls on top of the tray shook slightly, all staying in place after the quake had settled.

Nexus yawned. He winced as the chitin on his skeletal face creaked, a small chip falling to the floor. Having rubbed his face with a thin, porous hoof, the changeling grimaced. A weak green light came from beneath the chip. Exhaling, he pulled the chair over from the reading table. Shutting his eyes and biting into the chitin of his lip, the changeling levitated over a newspaper, lifting it by the corner. Most of its pages fell out, spreading all over the floor. He groaned.

...Princess once again argued against calling the ongoing conflict a ‘war’, criticizing the media for creating the monicker. She stated that rash decision-making was the catalyst for the events that have seen hundreds killed, including the Princess’ own friends and family members, adding that if the changelings were better understood…

“Ugh...There’s just no more good news, is there? Am I gonna have to make shit up so I can read any of this to you?” Nexus said raspily, after clearing his throat. “I’m sorry I’m so weak, Wander. I can’t even carry books yet. But it’s gonna be fine, you hear?”

...the recent uptick in violent behavior among ponies. While most such incidents fall under actions done in self defence under perceived threats from changelings, there are confirmed cases of intentional murder, including spree killings. Increasingly, the initially dismissed cases like the Cricket Hunter, the Second Bearers and the Seashore Killer are being looked at with..

“We’ll get out of this ditch. We’ll go somewhere nice. Synth will fix me up and I’ll help you get better. And screw everything else,” he whispered, leaning closer to the mare and putting a hoof on her shoulder. “Maybe it’s gonna get better? No Queen… Your new Princess seems like she’s come around, too…”

Nexus stifled a cough and spewed green droplets onto the side of his foreleg, having rushed it to his mouth. He heaved, clinging to the chair with the other hoof. His breath was coming back when there was a loud knock on the door, which then swung open. Nexus yelped and fell on the floor, leaving traces of chitin on the floorboards as his face pushed into them.

Making loud snapping noises, the changeling rolled around and got on his back. Looking to the entrance, he rolled his eyes and exhaled. There stood Synth, packed with large duffel saddlebags, looking the room over. He hung his head and beat his hoof against the floor.

“There’s less time than I thought,” he said, walking closer to Nexus. The taller, thinner changeling gasped and hissed as he was pulled up and put on his hooves through telekinesis. “We should be leaving before tomorrow.”

“What? Is it her?!” Nexus asked, shaking in place. “I told you she’s after me!”

Synth placed one of the bags on the reading table, flattening the newspapers. He pulled out several bubbling green vials. Before Nexus could reach out, the scar-faced synaptic uncorked one of them and shoved it in his mouth. The skeletal changeling’s body tensed up as he gulped it down.

“Don’t give me that traumatized talk, you walking cadaver. It was just another crazy bitch. Seashore Killer... urgh, these idiots. Stop chasing shadows, Nex, it isn't a dead crazy-ass mare you have to worry about, it's a bunch of living ones."

Nexus growled and raised a hoof. Synth glared at him, and the skeletal changeling backed down. He frowned.

"The ponies have gone and lost it, Nexus. You didn't even see much of anything when it happened. There’s real shit to worry about,” Synth barked in response while Nexus went back to emptying the vial. “Packsmulle isn’t safe anymore. It’s not the Seashore Killer, it’s not the bug hunters either. After what happened at the rehab center, the whole city is filled ES/AS. That alone is already pretty bad. Thanks again for giving me another cripple to take care of, by the way.”

“Fuck off, dude,” Nexus said in a steadier voice. He straightened his back and flexed his neck. The chipped portions of chitin on his carapace grew back. A light green glow came from his eyes, mouth and horn. He licked his lips. “I wasn’t going to just dart away with nothing to show for it. I wasn’t going to that stupid place to have a pony tell me how I can be one of them! I was trying to find someone for me, and I did! Unlike you, I actually want to get some genuine food.”

“Since when did you start making sense?”

“Since you said we didn’t have much time, so I gotta save myself a rant about how my ‘romance’ is dumb.”

Synth sighed and nodded at Nexus. He continued while removing items from the other bag, placing them on the medical tray by the mare’s bed.

“Everyone has lost it. The idiots who helped us hide here… They poisoned the water supply and broke the weather, now they want to march at the ES/AS. There’s gonna be other synaptics helping them.” The long-maned changeling clicked his tongue. He mixed liquids from several vials together and poured the resulting liquid on a bandage. “It’s going to be worse than May, Nexus. When ES/AS clean up, they won’t be holding back. With our luck, we’ll have more ponies cracking and cleaning house. We’re leaving town.”

“...I guess we are.” The thin changeling sighed, taking a steadier stride towards the window.

A mock-up changeling parade float hovered in the distance, surrounded by a dozen ponies wearing identical black hoodies and face-masks. There were armored troopers surrounding them from all sides.

“We’re going to Carol City. It won’t be that pretty, but there’ll be plenty of work,” Synth said. Nexus looked away as he slowly removed the bloody bandages from the mare’s abdomen and head and replaced them with new ones. “Much easier to stay undercover. Most of their crime is ponies, so we won’t get hounded.”

“Carol? I don’t know…Don’t they have a Proxy in there? This shit sounds dangerous…”

“If they do, that means they aren’t regular cheeselegs like the ones we had to work with here. That means we can actually stick around. Stop being such a pansy, Nexus, all Proxies are good for anymore is bragging rights.” The scarred changeling checked the bandages and nodded to himself. “If anyone tries to actually use them and band us together, it’ll be suicide. I’m sure they realize that.”

“I still don’t like it.” Nexus returned to the bed. He nodded at Synth and put a hoof on his shoulder, which the bulkier changeling swatted away, frowning.

“I still don’t like having to put up with your bullshit. I still don’t like doing you favors all the time. I still don’t like having to pull your weight.”

“Fine… I’m sorry, Synth. You know I don’t like leeching off you.” Nexus lit up his horn, briefly turning into a disproportionately tall, skinny-faced, pale unicorn with a fading purple coat and blurry yellow eyes. “I’d still look like a foal on stilts if you didn’t help me. Doubt I’ll glow blue ever again, but… Just tolerate me for a while longer, and I’ll be able to help you in return. I’ll pull my weight when we get to Carol, okay?”

“I’d hope so, Nexus.” Synth sat down on the chair by the bed. The mare whimpered quietly and coughed, shifting slightly. Both changelings looked at her, and then at each other. Synth sighed. “I’d hate for all this to have gone to waste. This had better have been the right thing to do.”

“This world has gone topsy turvy, dude. Ponies are cracking, drones are learning to think for themselves… The sun and the moon are all cold.” Nexus sat on the floor next to his partner and put a hoof on his shoulder. Synth rubbed his face with a hoof. “The only right thing to do is to cling to what we know. There’s so little that’s certain in this dumb world.”

“Certain? Like you being a complete mess?” the scarred changeling grumbled.

“Yeah.”

“Equestria is gone.”

The glow of the crystal device faded, and Twilight Sparkle opened her eyes. In the distance, the broadcast still echoed, her words coming from numerous speakers with some delay. The wide videodrome panels attached to towering crystalline buildings in front of the palace lacked the advertisements and news scrolls, displaying her cutie mark instead.

She glanced to her side, her gaze landing on a messy stack of papers illuminated by the dim light from the windows. They lay in front of her on the desk, with a pair of large stamps overlapping next to the dotted line on the bottom. One of the stamps depicted Twilight’s cutie mark, the other a thick, lily-covered letter G. The last line bore the words ‘Twilight Sparkle, Sovereign Princess of Equestria’, written in rough, faltering lines, several blots of ink surrounding it. Her eyes grazed over the line above, where a longer, less legible signature was done in swirling cursive.

Twilight took a deep breath and held it for a while, closing her eyes again. Her legs lifted her off her seat, but she plopped back down moments later, leaning back until her head met the back of the chair. Her lungs emptied, and her body trembled slightly. She quickly inhaled again and held her hoof to her chest, then slowly exhaled, extending her hoof outward. The outstretched limb shuddered and quickly flew back to her chest. She repeated this multiple times, taking increasingly quicker breaths, getting louder each time. She opened her eyes, lips parted slightly, and her chest shook as a series of sobs erupted from her.

Twilight bit her lip, holding back the next bout of sobbing, and her hoof pressed firmly into her chest. The hammering from within rang out in her ears. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, making her blink several times, but it only gave way to more, blurring her vision.

The air wavered around her horn, a faint glow pulsating within. The alicorn shivered, and her cutie mark let out a brief flash of light once the sensation reached her tailbone.

Twilight got up from her seat, walking past the now inactive phonocrystal, her legs stumbling over scrolls and other items littering the floor. Up ahead, six multicolored ornaments floated at eye level, growing increasingly brighter, their native colors blending together. The alicorn focused on the bright purple glow in the center, groaning as the vibration in her horn steadily grew into a throbbing pain.

The star-shaped gem gave a low hum, replicated by the objects surrounding it, their colors winking in and out in a chaotic rhythm. Twilight was only a few steps away when her body locked up in tension. Her teeth ground together from the immense pain shooting through her whole body. Her hooves scraped along the smooth marble floor as they dragged her forward, finally coming to a halt before a golden pedestal. She raised her head to stare at the bright purple gem in the middle, the metal that encased it clattering as it vibrated.

Her chambers' ornate doors flew open, letting in unicorn guards in pulsating crystal gear, who shouted loudly, none of their words coming through. They flailed their hooves, immediately backing away from the building purple glow. A half dozen griffons in suits lagged behind, abruptly stopping at the sight of the Princess. One of them, a taller, more ornately dressed female griffon, raised her voice, rushing into the chamber while the griffons stood in place and the unicorns began to raise magical barriers. The Empress stretched a talon towards her as the flow of air pushed her back.

Twilight closed her eyes and inhaled one last time. She lowered her head and exhaled, bringing her fizzling, cracking horn to touch with the Element.

For a few moments, the voices went silent, as did all other external noise. Only her own heartbeat remained. The light became excruciatingly bright through her clenched eyelids, and a low rumble could be heard in the distance, steadily growing in volume until it surrounded her as a deafening roar. She then felt a brief moment of intense pressure and heat, every inch of her body crushed by a mighty force, which faded away just as quickly.

She opened her eyes again, staring at the Element of Magic resting idly on a wooden pedestal.

To her right, a parchment was carefully rolled open on a writing stand, the words “Dear Princess Celestia…” scrawled on the top, a fresh pot of ink and a quill next to it. A neatly made bed was at the far end of the room, thick tomes on magic theory resting on the nightstand. There was a small cot with a mangled blanket and cushions near the foot of the bed, littered with half-opened comics and crumbs of multicolored gems. The window was open, the curtains gently swaying in a breeze that passed through her body. Outside, the birds were singing. She turned toward the window..

Looking through the opening, she saw a wall of white, rippling energy expand outward in all directions, steadily revealing more of the world, while the loud noise faded away as the distance increased. Her vision was murky, walls appearing to shift between solid and translucent, while the air itself was a dim, purplish haze. Houses appeared, nondescript equine figures milling about among them. In the distance, the towers of Canterlot appeared among the mountaintops.

Twilight stood still for a few moments, her jaw hanging agape. Eventually, her hooves slowly turned her around and took her toward the door, which vanished as soon as she reached out to touch it. It revealed a long corridor, where fluorescent lights illuminated dull white walls, contrasting with the grey tiled floor and the occasional corkboard full of news clippings, pinned notes and marker signs.

She headed forward, glancing through one of the doors to the side, which led to a spacious office, filled with taxidermied animals and trinkets, pictures and portraits lining the walls. Folders, hoof-written and typed notes as well as other sorts of loose papers littered the whole room, moving around with the wind coming from the balcony behind the main desks. A cream-colored stallion sat in front of one of them, his red-and-white toothpaste mane unkempt, the red moustache at the end of his protruded snout moist and untrimmed. His cheeks were sunken in, and his bloodshot eyes looked over paper after paper which he signed, holding a pen with a shaky telekinetic grip.

Twilight looked at the vacant desk to his side. Half the papers the stallion signed went there. A white suit and blue shirt hung off the back of the chair, and a straw hat with a blue band around it sat in the middle, near a turned-over picture of two identical looking cream colored unicorns, one of them clean shaved. She raised a hoof to her mouth, her eyes slowly darting from the empty desk to the moustached stallion, and then back again. The stallion groaned and pulled out a tall bottle filled with amber liquid from under his desk, gulping from it.

Twilight walked over to him, phasing through the dozens of Majority Solutions papers, and stopped when the stallion looked up, his eyes meeting hers, staring right through. Flam cleared his throat, wet spots staining the papers scattered before him, and smacked the call crystal on his desk. There was a loud knock on the door, and when Twilight turned around to face it, she stood in between two rows of seats on an airboat. A tall figure stood near the airboat’s exit, little more than its silhouette visible as the lavender haze spread outside the round windows. Motes of light traveled along the interior, wisping it away as it began to shake. Twilight could see her hooves meet a solid floor, but she heard no sound, apart from the faint rumbling in the distance.

“This was overdue,” a voice came from the figure. It was a tall female minotaur in a black business suit. Her eyes were obscured as the square glasses on her snout reflected the explosion’s light. Her thick blonde braid swung in the air, while the minotaur herself remained still. “One thing never changed about Equestria. Only you deal in absolutes. Any investment in you is always a disappointment..”

“Investment?” Twilight replied, shielding her eyes from the bright light.

“You were always going to crumble. There was always going to be a crisis like this. Ponies are weak, they cannot deal with violence and disorder,” the minotauress said. “You came to rule over them. You know best of all that there were parties looking to take over. To move Equestria away from your outdated rule.”

“And… you?”

“I saw how you acted. I know you knew it. That change was needed. But you held back. You let them change your direction. You made yourself think you were wrong. Things had never been worse. You cannot blame anyone for taking action then.” The minotaur looked away from Twilight and took her briefcase into both hands. “ I have ways of steering a head of state, but only if they are rational. You made graceful degradation impossible. So I found associated parties. All the old had to go. It could have been easy, Sovereign, if you had never chosen the worst of both worlds. You could simply have bent knee and no one would have been the wiser. Now we’re here.” The minotaur turned back to look at her. “I hear, see and feel you. Not them.”

Twilight nodded, eyes losing focus. She began to turn back.“You really wanted to make this story yours, didn’t you?”

Lockvara scoffed. “It is a mistake I won’t ever make again. ”

“No.” Twilight muttered. “We’ve been making the same mistakes for a long time now.”

As the alicorn walked, spiraling steps appeared underneath her hooves, leading her to descend. When she emerged onto the next level, the lavender explosion burst from behind her and spilled into the street, freezing in place. Twilight walked along a paved road, passing stores and apartments. As she walked, they grew. A small group of ponies hid under a bridge on the far side of the beach, sitting gathered around a barrel fire, passing around a lighter to ignite their smokesticks. The reddish glow revealed their scarred faces, and each time Twilight blinked, they wore different ones.

As she approached them, each step made it a different town. The time of day changed, the location they were in, the ponies themselves did too. Twilight walked through all of Equestria, which blended together into a blur of riots, violence and unrest. She lost her breath and began choking, swaying on unsteady legs as she stood between sleek crystalline buildings, frozen in the moment their material began to give way to the explosion. Clearing her throat and huffing for air, Twilight Sparkle looked up, standing in front of a line of troopers in heavy, crystal-reinforced armor. Once she blinked, she stood by the barrel fire, surrounded by the ponies she initially saw, each of them wearing a bird mask, the empty eyeholes staring at her.

They looked away from her, one by one. She did too, clutching her chest and coughing. She walked away, stepping into static droplets of rain. The lavender haze followed her step by step, taking over more and more of the waterside seawalk. The alicorn raised her head, looking at the blank shining moon in the sky.

Twilight paused, having walked up to a portion of the sidewalk surrounded by loose strips of thin, yellow plastic flapping in the wind, the words “POLICE LINE, DO NOT CROSS” emblazoned on them in black letters. There was a heavily mutilated body stretched out in the middle of the road, covered by a blanket, soaked red. There were other bodies, too, obscured by thick leather sheets, cyan and green vapors emerging from underneath. Police in grey uniform surrounded the scene.

She shifted when one of them looked at her - a bulky, white earth stallion with a brown handlebar moustache. He was standing next to a police carriage. As he moved, the lighter he held for the older pink pegasus to his side remained floating in the air.

Twilight tilted her head to the side. “I… know you, do I?”

“Well, I definitely know you, Princess. But it’s looking a lot like there isn’t an easy answer for who we are and where we stand.”

“It's always a difficult question...” Twilight replied. “It used to have an answer. I know it's different now. If I could just..."

Thorn chuckled and shook his head, reaching up with a hoof to scratch his head. “You know, no matter what, I don’t feel like I belong. Isn’t that strange? It should be so simple. Protect ponies. Now here I am, and no matter how I do it, it doesn’t feel right.”

A pair of copies appeared next to him, each with their own variations in appearance - a trooper in heavy crystal armor, with a spiked, electrified shield, and an overgrown stallion with sunken-in cheeks, wearing a postal uniform, with a rubber mask tucked into a saddlebag. Twilight’s eyes rolled back, and the explosion sped through the scene.

“Maybe it really isn’t that simple,” she said, heaving. “I thought I knew how magic… harmony… friendship… worked. What if this is all leading somewhere else?”

“Less obvious leads to follow? I tried that, Princess,” Thorn said. “But I don’t think I like where these leads are going. Maybe there’s no place to be anymore.”

“There’s always an answer for everything. Maybe if we looked further...”

“Maybe it’s not us who are here to make sense of this, Princess. Maybe we don’t have all the evidence. Maybe that’s why things keep going wrong again and again.”

Twilight’s body jerked as she found herself back at the crime scene, looking at Thorn, who removed his hat and took a hoof through his brown mane. The explosion lingering behind her reflected in the stars of his officer’s hat.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t think that’s a question you should ask me. I tried to fight. I tried to run. I tried to take it out from within. It always goes wrong....” He paused. “But something is different this time. Princess, why are we tal—”

Twilight opened her mouth, only to pause when the stallion’s form wavered and began to fade away. Her mane waved in the air as the explosion proceeded.

When she opened her eyes, the overcast sky was replaced by a bright ceiling materializing in thin air, covered in stars and rainbow patterns, while the mare saw dozens of crude crayon drawings taped onto the walls forming around her. She found herself in a row between benches, each of them littered with textbooks, papers, pens and pencils. Through a nearby window, she caught glimpses of foals running back and forth, the muffled sound of their chatter seeping in.

Her ears perked up as a noise came out from nearby. When Twilight turned to look, she saw a pony curled up on the teacher’s desk, rocking back and forth with her forelegs wrapped around her hind legs, head buried between them. She had a white coat and a rather messy, pink and purple mane, her clothes vaguely resembling that of a schoolfilly’s outfit. Most of the fabric appeared to be torn, burned or repurposed from other clothes.

Twilight held her breath as she moved closer, only to pause when the mare stopped her movements, slowly lifting her head. A pair of bloodshot green eyes stared back at the alicorn, and the pony’s face twisted into a grimace.

“What? Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I just—”

“Where are they? Have you seen them?” The mare’s voice cracked constantly. It went from a high pitched, feminine tone, to a raspy, low, smoked-through voice. She took frantic breaths each time she paused. “No! Don’t take me! I’m not leaving without them!”

“Who are you—”

“They were right there! What do you mean you can’t find them?! I don’t want to go!”

Twilight bit her lip, staring at Sweetie as she clung to the desk with all her might, eyes darting back and forth. She looked around the class, shuddering as she saw a tall, muscular, famished figure, covered in scars, bruises and tattoos, who clawed at their eyes with their hooves, periodically stopping to bash their head against the wall, making no noise.

“Rarity? Is th-that you? I’m scared…”

“Rarity?.. She’s—”

“Why am I here? Why am I still here?! Where is it, can you— can you see it?!" The filly pointed her hoof at the figure bashing its head against the wall. The figure looked back. "Why are we still going? A-are we there y-yet?..”

Sweetie Belle let out a tiny squeak as Twilight embraced her, chest shaking as she let out a few sobs of her own. The filly gave a deep sigh, her forelegs weakly returning the embrace.

A long, dark hallway appeared beyond the exit of the classroom, a bright light coming through the doorway at the far end.

“Huh?” The filly pulled out of her embrace and hopped off the table, landing on a quartet of stubby legs. She looked down the corridor, a pair of silhouettes appearing against the glow of the opening beyond. Giggling, she raced toward them, even stumbling a few times as her legs carried her swiftly across the hallway. Once she got close enough, the glow intensified, forcing Twilight to shield her eyes.

“This should look pretty to you, yeah, pony?”

Twilight blinked to clear the spots out of her sight. The walls were now irregular stone that glistened with the moisture that eroded it over centuries, with lumps of fluorescent material strewn about, illuminating the porous cave formation.

In front of her was a clump of large, egg-shaped sacs, blurry forms twitching within. Dark equines marched back and forth between the nest and the openings along the chamber’s walls, either bringing new eggs or carrying away the wriggling creatures that emerged from them. Directly to her side was a drop, leading into a body of water. Inside it sat a changeling creature several times her size. It had a long, thick neck that supported a large head with two blank, brightly shining cyan eyes, chitinous tentacles hanging off it. Gills on each side of its bulbous, limbless, whale-like body filtered jets of water each time it shook, taking a breath to speak in a choir of voices. There was a dominant, rash, masculine voice with an accent.

“What?”

“Life. Look at it, there it is. Lots of life. All of these drones, all they gotta do is run around, obey every order, and eat what they’re given. The smarter ones push them around and help find more food. Real nice and transparent, a purpose for the rest of your life.” The creature’s chitin creaked as it turned to glow its eyes on Twilight. “A ‘special talent’, you could say… Come to think of it, you did say that. Sounds so remarkably stupid when someone else says it, huh?”

There was a brief thrum in the air, a wave passing through it, even creating fluctuations in the perpetual glow. The drones briefly paused, their eyes flashing, after which they moved much faster, their movements less fluid, while some of them even tried to keep their heads low. A bluish glow came from one of the openings of the cavern, and a new group of changelings marched in, some of them tall, muscular figures on their hind legs, chitinous pairs of horns jutting out of their foreheads, while others had makeshift talons and paws instead of hooves, the wings on their backs more prominent.

Twilight narrowed her eyes at a group of changelings that had the most pony-like features, including pupils, albeit slitted, and manes in different shades of green and blue. Her eyes ended up pausing on one in particular, who stood slightly taller than the others, with a longer snout, and a messy, mop-like seaweed-green mane on top of his head. While every other drone and synaptic cast at least a glance her way, this changeling constantly averted his eyes, and even moved out of her line of sight behind one of the bigger creatures.

“It’s not that simple… We have our own paths, our own choices.” Twilight covered her face with her hooves, sitting down on her haunches. “We’re… We’re different…”

“That’s funny. Looks like your little dream of ponies and changeling coexisting is one huge, massive, bulging blunder.” The Proxy’s tentacles swiveled as it shook its head, emitting a deep, guttural chuckle. “So what is this picture on your butt? Is it you blowing up this world you’ve messed up trying to fix your mistakes? Always were gonna ruin everything for everyone, were you, Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

“That’s… what always happens, isn’t it?” Twilight said quietly.”

“No.” The Proxy’s voice echoed through the hive. “Sit here and mope if you want. Boo, hoo, hoo. My friends all died, my teachers blew themselves up, my country is fucking stupid and doesn’t understand what I want it to do. Now I’m gonna be sad and level it all.” It gurgled. “Look at these changelings. Life as straight as a rail. Serve your Monarch. Feed on emotions. Get fucked when your Monarch does something dumb. Do you know what my purpose was?” The Proxy’s eyes opened even wider, engulfing Twilight in thick cyan light, obscuring the lavender explosion that had been creeping through the hive’s holes.

The alicorn scowled, looking at the huge squid-headed creature, her ears flicking as she saw the water bubble around its man o’ war body. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped, averting her eyes. The Proxy continued:

“I’m here because my rulers are lazy, cheese-legged nitwits! I’m not a powerful magical pony Princess who gets to grow wings and talk about friendship…I am what I am because I willed it to be so. I took my opportunities instead of taking it on my pretty little face. But even I am a changeling, still. I know what we’re here for. I know what we’re capable of. These degenerates, they can change how they look, how they act, how they blend in, but they can’t change the hunger. YOU can’t change the hunger. Do you know what happens to this world of yours without your little tantrum? I do. I HAVE seen it. I HAVE won, Princess.”

“...do you know why I tried to take your people in?” the alicorn said, gritting her teeth. “I thought I could find something that’d change your ways. I thought I made a mistake, that your species doing what it did was my fault. But I see I’m not the only one whose… very being is in error.”

“I did not betray my nature. We are what we are, and you know damn well we will always be what we are. But what did you do, Twilight Sparkle? How’s that friendship and unity working out for you, you purple pony princess?”

“You’re despicable. Your species is trouble enough by itself, but you… You. Creatures like you, you’ve done the damage even I couldn’t!” She stomped at the hive’s texture. “If not for you, maybe it could have worked! Maybe it’s your fault!”

“Yes, that’s right. Show us all your true colors, Princess!” Proxy lingered on that word, hissing it out in a multitude of voices. “Good thing your ponies were blind, deaf and dumb. Anyone who figured it out, you called them criminals and terrorists, anyway! This is why I, when I win, I wrap you all up in cocoons and keep you on life support, so all you do is feed us. You can’t even create love on your own anymore! Remember that when this all happens again, and I win.”

The mare’s hooves shook, and she let out a wail, her body lunging at the creature as it let out a loud, insectile chitter, the congregation around him following suit, turning into a chorus of droning laughter. Before she could make contact, however, the figures vanished, and she tumbled to the cold stone floor, sobbing quietly as she buried her face in her forelegs.

“It hurts when mistakes start piling up, Princess,” a different voice said. Twilight inhaled smoky air and began to rise, looking at the five griffons sitting at a round table. “Maybe it’s just our nature.”

The alicorn stood in a VIP section of a restaurant, bright lights coming from its dancefloor, visible through the tinted door window. The colors and the blurry avian figures did not move. From a large, wide window behind the griffons’ seats, she saw a snowstorm, which mostly obscured a mountainous landscape. The snow was not moving either.

Twilight focused her eyes on the griffon that sat in the middle, a stocky, older magpie. She squinted and scowled, before ultimately staying silent, exhaling with a rough huff.

“Failure is a good teacher, Princess Twilight. When you fail, it hurts. When all your plans come crashing down. When nothing is how it should be.”

She looked at the other griffons. None of them paid attention to the alicorn, a crane twirling a pen in her talons before tracing a signature on a paper, a raven continuously pouring himself glasses of wine, a hawk smoking cigarette after cigarette, producing the smoke filling the room. Another one, an albatross even older than the magpie, sat slumped, the tip of his beak touching a lightning bolt styled cane. His eye stared directly into hers, albeit covered up by his long silvery plumage.

“But that is only if you recognize any of it. When you see that you’ve failed. That you’ve made mistakes. That maybe...” Engels put his claws on the table and scattered the papers. He winced and banged a fist against the table before resting his beak on it. “Maybe there’s something very simple that you missed.”

“Something simple?” Twilight shook her head. “Maybe, for you. Maybe you should just have approached me.” She sighed, her voice croaking. “Maybe I’d like to see you try to fix all this. With something… simple.”

“Simple and easy aren’t the same thing, Princess,” the griffon said. The others kept performing the same motions, even as the objects on the table had shifted. The albatross sat upright, smiling and shaking his head at her. “I hope you recognize that, eventually. This can be something great. It just needs to align…”

The alicorn closed her eyes and shielded herself with a hoof as the explosion bled through the mountainous vista. She coughed after one last puff of smoke blew in her face.

Her ears flicked as she heard the sound of waves crashing against the shore, and when she lifted her head, she flinched back from a big drop of water landing on her nose. Her belly rested on the soaked planks of a wooden beach platform, the umbrellas and chairs toppled over by a strong wind coming from the sea. Large droplets from the sky, tapping sharply all over her body, while the salty spray kept hitting her in the face.

Twilight slowly got up again, staring at the dark clouds looming over the water for a few moments, after which she climbed off the platform and marched across the deserted beach. Palm trees swung idly along the shore, a few having succumbed to the gale and now lying half-buried in the sand. Up ahead, a long pier made of stone stretched out from the beach, with a tall post at the end, a red light flashing on top of it. Just beyond the horizon, she could make out the dark peaks of the mountains on the far end of the bay, while behind her, ponies were making their way to carriages, dumping surfboards, towels, coolers, and other belongings into the backs before hurrying off into the mainland. Others sought refuge among the numerous hotels and apartments lining the shore, the windows all over their faces slamming shut.

The alicorn dragged her hooves through the sand and onto the cobblestone, glancing left and right as the wavering scenery dissolved all around her. Darkness was closing in, consuming the buildings and making the ponies among them vanish, while the same wave erased the mountains and the waves of the sea up ahead. The wind made it more and more difficult to advance, and the rain was now making her wince as it hammered her body non-stop. Her eyes, however, now fixed on one specific spot under the warning signal - an equine shape curled up at the base of the metal post, their silhouette winking in and out to the rhythm of the red glow.

Twilight marched up to the figure, stopping near the figure, her legs shaking. The pony she had been walking towards wiped the wet, hay-colored strands of her mane out of her face and lifted her head to look up at the alicorn. Behind the mare’s back, Twilight noticed a pair of wings opening briefly, then curling back again.

The pegasus’ eyes were mismatched, one of them slightly off-center, and she blinked repeatedly, the wrong eye always ending up in a new, misaligned position. Twilight watched the purplish raindrops touch the mare’s head, trickling down her mane and her cheeks to mix with the tears streaming from her eyes.

“Why did this happen?”

The pegasus did not speak. She blinked again, the wrong eye turning upward.

“Why did it have to be me? I… I never wanted any of this. I just want my friends back. This is too much.”

For a couple of moments, the mare did not even move, merely kept staring back at Twilight. She then exhaled and turned her head to pick up a soaked, worn brown satchel at her side. She set it down before Twilight and opened it, pulling out an envelope, which she gave to the Princess. The purple mare gasped as she noticed that the pegasus’ eyes finally managed to align. It was her turn to blink constantly, and she turned her attention to the letter, using her magic to pick it up and open it.

Dear Ditzy,

I sent you the books I promised. I even found some Canterlot Elementary textbooks, and with Dinky starting school next week, these should help her practice reading and writing. I also added some of my foal’s stories from when I was a little filly, such as Starswirl’s Journey and The Wishing Pond. Lots of pictures, just like you asked. I hope Dinky will enjoy them.

Sorry I could not bring the books myself. The whole library is being re-shelved today, so I only had time to package these books and write this letter. I hope the two of you are doing well. I know the past few years have been difficult, but there’s no need to worry. I managed to learn the hard way more times than I can count, but as long as you have friends close by, everything will turn out alright in the end. Do know I appreciate you reaching out for help. You would be surprised by how rarely I get to help others with books, so please don’t feel like it was a bother.

I can understand why Dinky feels so nervous about school. My own first day at Celestia’s school is a tale all on its own, I wouldn’t wish a rough day like that on anyone. And just before I arrived in Ponyville, I was busy worrying about Nightmare Moon’s return, while my mentor tells me to go ‘make some friends’ away from Canterlot. At the time, I was angry and confused, but now I’m glad I didn’t listen to myself.

It’s perfectly natural to be afraid when we’re thrown outside of our comfort zone. In the end, it’s just another chapter in life, and we have to deal with it and move on. I will have my friends to keep me safe, and you and Dinky will have each other, all of us bonded together in harmony. New environments and situations are something that we’ll have to face again and again in our lives, and it’s always best if you get to learn smoothly.

Your faithful friend,
Twilight Sparkle

The parchment slowly drifted to the ground, landing in a puddle, the ink bleeding off the soaked page. Twilight smiled, blinking at the tears forming in her eyes.

“Thank you.”

The pegasus nodded in response, returning the smile. A bright flash came from overhead, and Twilight looked up to see the individual forks in the lightning bolt, steadily growing and branching out across the sky. Instead of the crackle of thunder, she heard the low rumbling again, while the brightness of the light did not dim, but instead grew stronger with every passing moment. Soon enough, the lightning was replaced by the lavender haze of the Element’s explosion. Twilight exhaled and closed her eyes.

The deafening sound quieted down. When nothing proceeded to happen, the Princess opened her eyes and immediately took a step back, her mouth open wide. She stood in front of her own body, topped with the head of a vulture, whose eyes glowed pink. The mare winced and kept walking back, gritting her teeth and whimpering, her breath growing short.

She knelt grasping her head with her hooves. With an abrupt gasp, her eyes shot open. The mare looked at the mesh of colors that surrounded her and the Vulture, carrying them through darkness on the wave of light produced by the explosion. The Elements floated up above, all of them fizzling and broken. Energy coursing through them formed the contour of a large treehouse.

The alicorn began to rise and looked back. Within the purple maelstrom she had created, innumerable scenes were displayed, each within its small rectangular section. Each of them was being rewound at a high pace. Twilight looked at the entity.

“So… here we are” Twilight muttered. “This is it.”

“Yes,” the figure replied. “And you know what comes next.”

The mare hung her head and nodded with a deep sigh. “It was all for nothing in the end.”

“For you. On some level, you knew. You’ve kept knowing, each time.”

Twilight let out a low chuckle, while more tears ran down her cheeks. She fell on her haunches, forelegs rubbing together. “That’s how it started… I never could have stopped. My friends would have done the same… for me.”

“They’re not here. Things are still out of place..”

“Is anything going to get better? I won’t really remember any of this, will I?” The mare rubbed her temples. “Is this… even happening?”

“It will happen again, and again, and again. Until it doesn’t. There are good pieces yet in this carcass. They’ll be plucked, one by one, as we find them.”

“We?” She took in a breath and reached out towards the figure with her body. “Tell me, what do I need to do? How do I stop this? How do I remember… how do I do anything?”

“Not you.” The Vulture shrugged with Twilight’s own shoulders and shook its beaked head. “This isn’t your story. Look at me, Twilight Sparkle. You don’t think what you’re seeing is objective reality, do you?”

“But—”

“Symbols are important. You are the end of the old. The new will be plucked until it can stay.” The Vulture stayed silent, its beak closed shut. “This used to be your story, Twilight. But these aren’t.”

"...no need to fight it, then."

"I'm glad you understand."

Twilight opened her mouth. The purple-tainted world froze all around her for a moment, then collapsed inward, a brief sense of tremendous pressure hitting the alicorn before everything went dark.

*********

Carol City, Equestria

Ditzy sat on a deckchair, sipping from a juice box that sat on the table next to a plate with a half finished muffin. The dark shades over her eyes reflected the bright sun rays. Sun sparkled over the ocean waves as they washed over the shore. Chatter came from a group of ponies gathered around a snack kiosk. A kite hovered in the sky. A dark grey griffon flew nearby, fiddling with a kite of her own.

She lowered the book in her hooves and leaned forward, turning her head to where a group of foals were playing ball. The mare looked at Dinky for a few moments, exhaling. Beginning to recline, she paused as the ball was kicked towards the unicorn filly. Turning and bouncing it with her flank, Dinky sent it flying into the air. Another unicorn filly, a white one, lit up her horn, but the green aura that formed around the ball fizzled out. It was accelerated, flying even higher up, and landing deeper into the ocean, near a couple of swimmers.

Ditzy sighed and got out of her chair, leaving behind the book and the juice box. The pegasus flexed her wings, then her neck, and slowly stepped towards the shore. The two unicorn fillies ran in the same direction, outpacing her. Ditzy’s ear flicked at a louder voice coming from where the fillies played. A white unicorn mare was speaking, waving her hoof at the running fillies, but the other fillies - two earth ponies, brown and yellow, and an orange pegasus - squealed and shouted loud enough to drown her out. A taller mare, a purple alicorn, walked up to the white mare and put a hoof on her shoulder and beckoned to head back. Ditzy smiled and raised her pace, nearing the fillies in the line of wet sand.

When she got there, Dinky stood in place, waves splashing against her hooves, while the other filly went deeper into the water, waving her hooves. Ditzy looked to where the ball landed. Her ears flicked.

An emerald green changeling was swimming towards the shore, carrying the ball with one hoof. There was a cyan swimsuit over the carapace on his chest, several small gems protruding beneath it. He had stubby, backwards-pointing purple horns on his head, with a few rows of nubs between them, covering the top of his head. The changeling was tall and lean, nearing Ditzy’s height while still half submerged.

“Hey, yeah, over here, over here! Thank you, mister!” the white unicorn filly shouted, jumping up in the water as he approached. “Sorry if it hit you, I’m a little—”

The filly paused, no longer jumping. She mumbled and took a step back, staring at the changeling. While he rose to stand on his hooves in the sand, the changeling also began to stare, his purple eyes squinting. Dinky opened her mouth and let out a squeak, but stopped and never continued, her ears folding.

Ditzy watched the changeling, breathing loudly through her nose, her wings jolting with tension. They stayed like that for a time, looking at each other, each slowly backing away. The ball fell back in the water and floated on the waves.

“Hey, fillies, uhm... is there something?…” the changeling said quietly before shaking his head. His ears batted at the air.

“Uuuh, mister Changeling? Did you—” Dinky spoke, stopping when Ditzy took several brisk steps and put a hoof around her shoulders.

Ditzy and the changeling looked at each other. His eyes fixed onto hers, hidden behind shades.

“Pah, there you are. Come now, what is taking you all so long?” the unicorn mare said, cantering up to the scene. She stopped near the white filly. “What a kerfuffle over a—”

The mare turned her head at the changeling, who shrunk in response. He mouthed silently. The mare tilted her head, her long, curling blue mane dangling in the air. Slowly shaking her head, she put a hoof on the filly’s head and drew her back.

Nobody spoke.

Ditzy breathed loudly, her wings having spread out. Dinky’s lips curled as she clung to her mother’s hoof. Rarity had her mouth open while rubbing her head. Sweetie Belle sat down, looking at her forehooves and blinking repeatedly. Nexus moved his eyes from pony to pony, his glistening, transparent tail dragging across wet sand as he took unsteady backwards steps.

A pony approached from the lifeguard station further up the beach. The earth pony stallion chewed on a donut, stopping to take another bite before looking up at the scene. He stopped chewing, crumbs staying in his moustache. He frowned, shut his eyes and rapidly shook his head, strands of brown mane sticking to his forehead.

“There a… there a problem here, ladies?” Thorn said, his eyes remaining shut. He then gulped and motioned with a hoof. “And… mister?..”

“We, uhhh—”

“I think—”

“Just, hold on—”

“I gotta—”

Ditzy slowly moved her head, breathing loudly through her nostrils. The purple alicorn had walked in front of the playing fillies. Twilight Sparkle looked at the six that had gathered by the water. She hung her head for a moment, before shaking it and straightening her neck. Ditzy and the rest had turned to look in her direction. She smiled and waved over to them, walking back to her part of the beach.

“No… Nothing’s wrong. Sorry.”

The lifeguard opened his eyes, squinting at the other five before blinking and taking a breath. He wiped his moustache and took another bite before heading back to the station. The changeling flexed his neck, shook his head and went back to the water, swimming toward the buoys, where another changeling and a pony waved at him. The white mare let out a short laugh and exhaled, turning back and bringing the ball along with her magic. The white filly rubbed her temple and shrugged, grabbing the ball with hers and rushing back. Dinky looked up at Ditzy, who closed her eyes, smiled and nodded, the shades sliding down her sweat-covered snout. Her hooves left the pegasus’ leg, while the filly herself remained.

Ditzy took another glance at the unicorn mare, who briefly returned it, before huffing, raising her head and cantering off. The stallion took another look back, squinting at the pegasus. She shrugged and smiled, and he did so in return before entering the station.

“Sorry, mom,” Dinky said. She turned her head toward the ocean, where the changeling arrived by the buoys. The other changeling splashed him with water and gave him a tap on the head, while the pony laughed. “I… uh… I wanted to go somewhere like this for a long time. It’s been really fun today, but…”

The mare looked down, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m a bit afraid.” The two were silent for a few seconds. “This ocean… I like swimming in it, but I look at it, and it’s just… I dunno how to say it. It’s so big, so deep, and when it’s far from the beach, it gets so dark. I’m feeling kinda queasy.”

Ditzy lowered her shades, looking at the sunlit ocean. She breathed in and smiled, patting her daughter on the back.

“It’s okay, Dinky. The ocean isn’t as scary as it seems.”

Author's Note

MLP:FIM belongs to Hasbro.

The Hotline Miami franchise belongs to Dennaton Games. Thanks to Dennis and Cactus for creating the beautiful, violent mess that inspired me to create this... regular mess.

Thanks to the hard work of all the artists whose music I used for the soundtrack to this story. In no particular order:

Sun Araw, Earth, Tycho, M|O|O|N, Carpenter Brut, Lazerhawk, Scattle, Power Glove, Kavinsky, Gesaffelstein, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Raime, El Tigr3, Trans Am, Light Club, God Is An Astronaut, Perturbator, Mega Drive, Chromacle, SUNN O))), El Huervo, Mitch Murder, Jasper Byrne, Mr. Oizo, Quixotic, Robert Miles & Stellar Dreams, DANCE WITH THE DEAD, Magic Sword, Best Coast, SALEM, StarSpawn, Jean-Michel Jarre, Bowery Electric, Pharaoh T, Tape, Sleep Dealer, CoConuts.

Let me know if I skipped over anyone.

Special thanks to:

Dark Avenger, who convinced me to do this in the first place - for good or for bad. Thank you for helping with parts of the story, fixing many typos, finding a lot of the more obscure music, making all the pictures, doing a lot of creative editing, and then helping to un-edit the things you creatively edited.

Icarus, who was the first and only fan that this story ever gained. Thank you for having more enthusiasm than I did, at times. I definitely wouldn't have been able to fix all the broken links on my own, and much of this story would have been a lot more boring and less ambitious without knowing that at least one person actually cared. This would never have gotten to the finish line without your input and editing help.

Arcadias, who provided emotional support and gave a different perspective on things that I wouldn't have thought of.

And whoever is reading this. I hope that whatever time you invested into this broken mess has been worth it.

PART 1 - SERVICE. Chapter 1: Package

Author's Note

This story uses soundtrack links. If you get to the next link before the track's runtime is over - don't fret, the game switched back and forth as well.

For maximum effect, avoid using music of your own. Not that the story is completely without merit if you remove the music, of course. Neither me or Dark Avenger own any of this music. Obviously.

PART 1 - SERVICE. Chapter 1: Package

April 3rd, 1013 AN - 10:53 AM

Carol City, Equestria

A grey pegasus mare tossed back and forth in her bed, mumbling silently in her sleep. A gust of wind blew through the open window, making her shiver and curl up more tightly under the mangled sheets. Her eyelids clenched a bit tighter, and she moaned. Tossing about for another minute, her eyes eventually slid open, one staring blankly upwards, and the mare went still.

Breathing hard and drenched in sweat, the mare spent several minutes gazing at the ceiling. The sunlight painted it dark orange through the curtains, illuminating a cloud of blurry particles in the hot air. She remained motionless, though awake. Eventually, the mare took a deep breath, untangled herself from the covers and rolled out of the bed. Along the way, she glanced at her alarm clock and sighed deeply. There were double digits on the left side.

She rubbed her eyes and stumbled out into the kitchen. Her hooves nearly tripped over a toy train, and she winced on hearing the plastic crackle. Looking down, the pegasus tiptoed carefully among the dozens of other toys strewn about. She put on a weak smile, glancing at the door next to her bedroom.

The mare stifled a yawn and approached her fridge and pantry, gathering bread, eggs, flour, milk, green onions, and oil for the breakfast. She searched the cupboards for a frying pan, failing to find it anywhere. Another sigh escaped her when she eventually discovered it among a mountain of dirty dishes in the sink. She quickly washed it, set it on the stove, and got to cooking.

While the contents of the pan were busy sizzling, the pegasus turned the coffee machine on and placed some bread into the toaster. Within seconds, a cavalcade of strong scents flooded her kitchen. Yawning again, she brushed aside the dirty plates and leftover scraps of food on her table, making room for a fresh plate and cup. She poured herself coffee, filled a glass of cool water, gathered the toast, nudged the omelette from the pan onto the plate, and sat down to eat.

A noise rang out from the front door, just as she put the dishes into the sink. An envelope slipped through the slot on the door and landed in a pile of various newspapers and catalogues. Shaking her head, she abandoned the dishes and gathered the letters, dumping them on her table. A residency bill, advertisements, an election vote reminder, and finally, a letter from an odd source.

The mare pushed the others aside, opened the envelope, and looked at the letter within.

Dear Ditzy,

Sorry I haven't written to you in a while. I know you haven't been at peace since you moved out. How's the kid? Is Carol City treating you alright?

Moving there might have been a mistake. I doubt there's a lot of work there nowadays. But don't worry, I found something perfect for you. There's a nice place over at 45 Starling Avenue, waiting for a delivery. You'll need to wear something discreet. It's in the package I included with this letter.

Hope you have a great time!

Hugs and kisses,
Red Stamp
Assistant Manager, EQUESTRIA DELIVERY SERVICE CLIENT SUPPORT

Ditzy got up and opened her door, finding a cardboard box in front of it. She picked it up, set it on her back, and walked through the corridor to a balcony. Once there, she paused, looking down at her forehooves, which rested on the railing.

A breeze of air rustled her mane, mixed with salty vapor from the ocean a short distance ahead. It was obscured by a line of palmtrees planted between the lanes of a paved road, where rare carriages were passing by. The waves crashed noisily against the sand.

Setting the box down, Ditzy read the message one more time and lifted the package to her good eye. Pounding it with a hoof, she got the lid to open up. Her bad eye twitched, rising to the corner of the socket. After having stared at the contents for a minute, she closed the box and headed back into her apartment.

Her door stayed locked until seven in the evening.

***

The sounds of rustling garbage echoed off the walls of the alley. A homeless pony gave a low burp and cleared his throat before sticking his head back into the dumpster. He froze in place when sounds of wingflaps came from nearby, followed by a dull thud. He turned to look, eyes squinting from the evening brightness beyond the alley. An equine figure stood at the entrance, wings folding up. It steadily walked forth, stepping into the long shadows of the buildings around them.

The stallion ducked between the dumpsters and peeked around the edge. The figure was a grey pegasus mare wearing what looked like a blue postal worker’s uniform. Her back was turned and the clothes covered her cutie mark.

The mare took out a note from her saddlebags, checked it and looked up at the opposite side of the alley.

A dingy, two-story building stood there, all of its windows broken or boarded up. Light and faint music seeped out of every hole. Without pause, she walked up to the front door and gave it a series of firm knocks. The stallion winced, covering up his face. He opened his mouth and raised his hoof, stopping himself from making any noise when the mare took out another object from her bags and pulled it onto her head. Its exact shape faded with the distance, although it was grey in color.

A muffled male voice answered from inside the building. The stallion held his breath and curled up even tighter. A series of hoofsteps approached the entrance from within.

The next moment, the mare reared up and slammed her hooves on the door. It burst open, rapidly swiveling halfway before coming to a halt with a loud bang. A large body could be heard slumping to the ground, and the masked mare stepped inside.

45 Starling Avenue - 7:15 PM

A pair of stallions in worn street clothes argued intensely over a thickly stuffed envelope. A third one, wearing a black hoodie, leaned against the wall of the kitchen behind them, idly toying with the chain that hung from his shoulders. They fell silent when hard knocking came from the front door, masked by the bass-heavy music playing upstairs.

The arguing duo looked at each other, shrugged, and turned to the third pony, who rolled his eyes and trudged out of the kitchen. He called out in advance, expecting it to be one of their associates bringing food. No one answered. Stepping slower and with more tension, he walked up to the door and lifted the lid on the large peephole.

He opened his mouth and failed to speak before the door slammed him in the face. The stallion dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. He groaned, limbs squirming as he tried to get back up. His companions called out and stepped into the hallway. They froze in place, seeing a masked pegasus bring their hoof down on the stallion's throat, him flailing and gurgling. Moments later, a loud, wet crunch rang out, and the pony went limp.

Hollering at the mare, the thugs in the kitchen rushed ahead. The intruder advanced as well, lunging at the first one just as his hoof raised a metal pipe to strike. A blow from her right foreleg sent him staggering back. The mare followed up by grabbing his head with her left hoof and slamming it against the wall. The other stallion tried to pounce her, flying back after receiving a rapid kick from her hind legs.

The masked pony looked down at the pony slumped against the wall. Before he could come to his senses, a pair of forehooves pressed against his temples. He began to scream shortly before his skull caved in. A loud, wet noise echoed in the hallway, the mare’s hooves sinking into pulverized bone, brain matter and eye fluid. The other hoodlum began to get up, but the mare’s weight landed on him and pushed him back down, while her forelegs twisted him around. He thrashed and gave muffled cries as a bag slipped over his face. She pulled at it hard while keeping his head down with a hoof. The cries quickly turned into gurgling and gasps for breath, after which the stallion went still.

For good measure, the mare slammed the motionless pony’s face against the floor and left the bag firmly attached to his face. She got up and removed the chain from around the first thug’s shoulders. Behind the door to her left, another pair of mobsters rolled off a dirty mattress and gathered their weapons. One of them called out to the others and approached the door. His shirt remained on the bed, and plastic pill cases were scattered all over the floor.

Before his hoof could touch the knob, the door burst open and tossed him back onto the bed, the pegasus rushing in right away. The other pony tried to swing with his pole, but his opponent simply ducked and lashed out with the chain, knocking the weapon aside. This allowed her to pounce and smash his face with her covered forehead, causing the snout of the mask to crumple inward. He staggered back and dropped the pole, grasping at his muzzle. The second blow from the chain caved in the side of his head, and he fell silent. His companion could only let out a curse before the chain came down on his skull as well, turning it into bloody pulp.

Down the hallway, a third pony emerged from the door on the right, the sound of rushing water behind him. He began to whistle and then instantly came to a halt when his eyes passed over the bloodstains covering the walls and the floor, along with the motionless shapes of his companions. He ran for the bedroom, barely reaching the doorway when the mare flew straight at him, knocking his body all the way into the far wall.

The pegasus then quickly threw him to the ground, grabbed his head, and bashed it repeatedly against the floor. The hoof-hold of a knife protruded from one of his pockets. She dropped the chain and took the blade instead.

Upstairs, one of the thugs walked down the dirty and crumbling hallway, muttering to himself. His ears twitched from the sound of wings flapping, and a weight landed on his back just as he tried to turn around. A cold object pressed against his throat, making his eyes widen. He let out a wheezing gurgle, blood streaming out of slashed veins and arteries.

The other two kept chatting away in an adjacent room, giving the intruder time to look around. The hallway led to another bathroom and two other bedrooms, all of them unoccupied and filthy. Several of the walls had graffiti painted on them, most of it various obscenities. Piles of junk and dozens of pill cases were strewn about, along with dried vomit stains. In the open bathroom, the mirror was shattered, the few remaining pieces caked with crusty blood.

The mare tiptoed her way to the final room at the end of the hall. She paused along the way to inspect a small, circular symbol next to the door. The red paint was still fresh.

Cracking the door open slowly, she peeked inside, her forehoof holding the knife at the ready.

Compared to the rest of the building, that particular room was relatively clean and organized. The walls were lined with cabinets and shelves, some of them still holding a few withered books. A large mahogany desk stood opposite the door, the two thugs standing behind it. Their hooves fiddled with a large bag on top of the desk, stuffed with various metal devices.

She opened the door and stepped in, making the two ponies freeze and look up. They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither side moving or talking. One of them, a stallion, tried to make a grab for the contents of the bag, to which the mare replied by tossing the knife at him. He let out an odd groan, air flowing out of his lungs as the blade embedded itself in his forehead.

His companion, a pale unicorn mare wearing a cheap black suit and glasses, gave an awkward grin and backed away from the desk. She stuttered, failing to produce anything coherent.

The masked mare ignored her and walked up to the desk. The unicorn gulped and held up her hooves, to no effect. Panicking, she quickly fumbled with one of her sleeves until a small firearm slid out, rising into the air with a flicker of her horn. It shook in her grip as she tried to aim it, horn sparkling aimlessly, while her opponent reached for the bag between them.

A shot rang out, the bullet missing the masked mare's face by inches and embedding in the far wall.

The second one was much louder. It came from the opposite direction.

The mobster collapsed, eyes empty, and a large hole torn in her chest. A spent crystal shell hit the floor, shattering into pieces. Moments later, it was followed by the gun itself. A greenish flame burst from the unicorn mare's hoof, traveling up the appendage and spreading to the rest of her body. When it died down, the corpse of a pony was replaced by that of a slightly smaller pitch-black equine with uneven holes permeating its limbs, blank eyes turned dull and green. A pair of small, chipped fangs peeked from under the upper lip.

The pegasus waited for the process to complete, then turned around and left the room. Her breath was ragged, and her limbs gave occasional shivers, while her pace and motions remained calm and deliberate. She went down the stairs and strolled past the corpses in the hallway, the majority of which had by then reverted to their real forms.

Reaching the door, the masked mare paused. There was a loud yelp, as the homeless stallion stared at the massacre, bloodshot eyes going from the corpses to the masked postal pegasus. The bum whimpered and backed away slowly. He stumbled and fell down, now fixating on the mare's mask.

The rubber imitated blue-grey feathers, topped with a yellow beak. Similarly yellow eyes bulged from eyeholes, one staring back at him, the other twitching on the outer edge. The pigeon's image folded and dented as the mare underneath it took deep breaths.

“O-okay...” he whispered. His legs trembled. “I didn’t see nuthin, I swear. Please? C-come on—”

His words cut out with a whimper. The lanky stallion struggled as the mare’s limbs forced him to the ground and locked on his throat. His brown face went deep red as they pressed in deep.

His eyes rolled back, tongue hanging from his open mouth. Red soon became purple, and his motions slowed.

The pegasus stumbled away from the lifeless body. Her hooves fumbled with the mask and tore it off her head, letting her gasp for breath. Her sweat-soaked mane fell onto her eyes, which blinked repeatedly. She fell on her haunches and forced her eyes at the ground, shivering as her drenched skin was exposed to the cool air.

After a minute-long breather, she got back up, spread her wings and left the alley.

***

"One of Carol City’s less lustrous quarters has been hit by a sudden wave of killings, adding to the housing and contingency issues already present before. "

...

"Investigating reports of violence at 45 Starling Avenue, the CCPD has found 9 heavily mutilated bodies. Further inspection has confirmed most of the victims’ identities as members of the "Tunnel Snakes" - a local gang comprised mostly of Prejudice Rock Pact immigrants. Among results of police search was a package containing illicit firearms, presumed to have been in possession of the gang members. "

…

"Despite collateral damage to the building interior and copious amounts of blood, no evidence points to a culprit. … The detectives on the case have stated that infighting appears to be the most probable cause of the crime. With the extreme violence involved in the killings, one wonders just how organized our city’s 'organized' crime truly is."

Mirror Park - 8:42 PM

The sun had just disappeared over the horizon, although its lingering light still outshone the active streetlights. The metal gate of the playground whined repeatedly as the last of the adults opened it and left for home, dragging their children behind them.

Ditzy landed just outside the entrance. She allowed a couple to exit first and made her way through the gate, walking among the various toys and structures. At the far end of the place was a large seesaw, a lone filly sitting on its top.

“Hi, mom!” The child waved. “Wow, you look tired. You okay?”

She jumped off the seat and ran up to the mare, hugging her forelegs tightly. Ditzy responded by gently stroking her head.

“Ugh… School was boooooring.” The filly pouted. “Don’t wanna talk about it.”

The mare smiled and pulled her into a tight hug. The filly giggled and nuzzled her mother’s cheek.

“Guess what, I played on the big slide today!” she said proudly. “Cause I’m a grownup!”

Her mother nodded and nudged the filly toward the exit.

“Maybe we could play together tomorrow?” she went on.

Another nudge came from the mare’s foreleg, and they picked up the pace.

“Yaaaay!” The filly giggled and danced beside her mother as they walked. Once outside the playground, she jumped on her back, holding on tightly with her legs. The pegasus spread her wings and carefully lifted off, riding the drafts along the coast back toward home.

Chapter 5: Denial. END OF PART 1

April 3rd, 1002 AN - 04:62 AM

Canterlot, Equestria

Ditzy stood on shaky legs, breathing heavily, eyelids coming down to protect her eyes from the noxious vapor filling the storage room. She took a few uneasy steps, wobbling at the knees, reeling at the blur and swirling in her head. Her hooves bumped into the many half-rotten rags and boxes that littered the floor, nearly sending her plunging back onto the dead body she had been standing over. An errant hoof landed on the disheveled homeless pony's sickly blue, stubbled, beaten, bloodstained snout, which used to be brown. It crushed the corpse's morbidly soft jaw and the slurpy crunch echoed in her ears.

The mare tried to gasp, ending up retching from a foul presence in her throat. Tearing up at the eyes, she looked over the room, filled to the brim with trashed, decaying objects, most of them covered in organic refuse. Stumbling, she made her way to a shuttered door, through which rays of scorching sunlight poured into the cramped room. Having seen the sun, Ditzy found herself sweating and swiveling ever harder, as her body caught up with the sweltering heat.

Holding her breath, the pegasus pushed against the door and got it open. The rush of air made her lose balance, and she fell flat on her snout, meeting the harsh stone of the roof. Weakly, the mare rolled over, closed her eyes and took a few careful breaths. Her tongue tasted fresher air, her eyes no longer teared up, and the dark orange glow in front of her eyelids got more defined.

With a breath of relief, Ditzy let air in through her nose. It tasted the irritation of ash, compounded by the sickly sweet smell of plastic and glitter set aflame. Her ears twitched as she listened to the many low grumbles of the flames devouring the buildings nearby. Her eyes opened and looked straight into the sea of moons.

“It should be easy to tell what’s wrong with a pony,” a distant, distorted, deep feminine voice said to her. “We all have skeletons in our closets. Your closet is different.”

Ditzy got up and felt the vaporous touch of the night air among the devouring flames, now ever more distant. Her hoof touched her snout a few times and her eyes darted back and forth, examining the flat rooftop, moving along in unison.

“You’re a very troubled individual. Ponies like you seek help.”

The pegasus turned to glance behind her back and saw a lower crossing. She made her way there, finding herself surrounded by tall cages, littered tiling and the sounds of birds. Her heart beat faster, ears flattening, no longer hearing the idle gurgle of the hungry fires. She walked on, her own shadow projected onto the cages by the four moons in the sky.

“If you want to make things right, we should start with why help has to come to you instead.”

Sensing the voice come from behind her, the grey pegasus turned quickly and found herself looking at the same image, but with an end to the row of cages and bird seed on the ground. The aviary now ended in a glassed, reflective balcony, behind which only inklings of the great fire were seen. Looking down on a lower crossing, forehooves hanging off the railing, was a tall equine figure with both wings and a horn. Its mane sparkled and flowed in place despite the stillness of air within the walled in aviary.

“You know what is happening. You can speak here.”

The pegasus touched her throat, knocking on it a few times, feeling the delayed, distant response. She stared at the figure, which lazily motioned with its hooves, casting bird seed below, causing the echoing noises to intensify. Ditzy stood still, her eyes drilling into the back of the figure’s head. Neither of them did or said anything else. Steadily, the fire devoured more and more of the environment.

“I’m trying to see how you deal with this. I’m… feeding the birds,” the figure said with a sigh, dropping yet more particles downwards. “Look if you want to.” It slid away to the side, staring at Ditzy without moving its head.

Rapidly, the grey mare walked up to the balcony and bent over it to look down, squinting to make out the lower section in the darkness. Both her and the figure watched the birds silently as the great orange flood spilled over more and more of what was behind the glass. The pit was barely visible, but the pegasus saw it in familiar parts. She watched the ducks fight over bits, an owl sat on a perch and stared behind the glass, and a vulture lay pecked to giblets by smaller birds around it. A rooster’s slashed throat sprung out blood. A disemboweled penguin lay twisted by the glass screen. Only a magpie, a hawk, a raven, a crane and an albatross sat atop the blue-faced, disheveled, decayed body of a brown stallion, in the rotten apart pores of which birdseed kept dropping.

“Do you really think all this is necessary?” asked the figure, turning to the pegasus with its enlarged, lifeless rubber head. “Your problems can’t be fixed right away. But you can listen to what there is to say.”

Ditzy’s forehooves shuddered. She rubbed them together and gasped for breath. The noxious, ashen air filled her lungs, making her cough. Her eye twitched and she nearly missed a tiny toy dove within her grasp. Breathing heavily, the mare tucked it under her wing and began to walk, limply, stuffily, away.

“Ditzy?..”

Trying her best, the grey pegasus limped on, but felt restrained evermore. Rough straps constricted around her chest, while her wings were bound with thick cloth.

“You can’t do that here.”

She stopped.

“Why do you think I came to you?”

She ran.

April 3rd, 1002 AN - 04:62 AM

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, blinking rapidly, seeing only the glisten of metal and tile. The air was damp and lacking. It pressed down on her as much as the thick cloth around her limbs, whereas thick layers of ash filled in the corridors. The mare trotted stiffly down the cramped interior, shuddering as she stared at the environment. Glowing metal spikes emerged from rubber walls, damp rot coated every surface, and the bright orange paint peeled away from the flame. Every path led down sharp, padded corridors.

Ditzy paused, seeing another creature there alongside herself. At first there was one, then three, then over a dozen, almost blocking the corridors. Dark, distorted, misshapen equines, their sterling white outfits contrasting with the featureless black and the crooked fangs. As soon as she saw them, the ash, the smell, the restraints and the haze faded away.

“Ponies like you seek help.”

The nearest creature glanced at the mare with its bright, flaming eyes and opened its mouth, charging for her. It pursued her through more turns and corners, attracting more equines who joined the stampede of dark hooves on tile.

The stuttering mare in the lead pressed on, always just a corner ahead. The further away she got, the more the environment changed. Flames spread further, illuminating the rooms along the way - cells, offices, lockers, a walled off cafeteria. Firefly fire alarm sirens on the ceilings glowed bright red.

A chair sailed through the air from around the corner, striking the nearest creature on the head with a devastating crack. It fell to the ground, slowing down the other monstrosities. Once they cleared the obstacle, they kept dashing after her, where the leading creature received a kick to the face, and gave a piercing howl before its body simply shattered. Its pieces hit the floor with a deafening clatter, but the rest of the horde were undeterred.

They chased the pegasus down a lengthy corridor, only ever seeing her as she passed more sources of fire and glowing lamps. She limped, but limped quickly. They had the advantage of speed, but whenever one would reach her, a swipe of their crooked hooves would be avoided by the mare, and the assailant would be violently thrown aside - often into fire, where they scorched and sizzled, or into the omnipresent electrified spikes, which would pierce through them with a crunching sound.

“If you want to make things right… You are wasting everyone's time.”

By when the pursuing creatures were whittled down to a half, the corridors had visibly changed. They became brighter, more illuminated, less cramped. The fire was stronger, consuming each padded wall, although it stopped spreading. The few other creatures that appeared again often did so in other rooms, the doors of which refused to budge. By the time they broke out to join the thundering chase, the mare was already past them. Twitching in place, creaking with each movement, they cracked their necks in confusion.

Half a dozen of the large fanged things had gathered in a narrow doorway the pegasus had passed through, which led to a room that had no visible way out. It was big, elevated, full of papers, drawers, and lockers. The creatures shoved themselves against the door, and when it finally gave, it swiveled outwards instead, smashing through them where they stood. The mare emerged from behind it, no longer wearing her rags, only a bright, glowing object attached to the side of her forehoof.

Just as the first of the creatures got back up, the last to get knocked down had already had their heads quickly crushed, or their bodies thoroughly fried by the sparks emitting from the object strapped to the mare's hoof. A stray foreleg swung at her and she backed away before rebounding onto her hind hooves and flinging herself right at the assailants, knocking them back down, their rib cages cracking in he process. Rapidly, she brought her armed foreleg down on their heads, keeping it there to fry them one by one. Within moments, all of the equines were reduced to charred remains, while the mare was already galloping toward a big gate outside. She rammed it open without skipping a beat and escaped the confines of the building.

“You are a very troubled individual.”

Outside, more creatures awaited her, all of them identical to the ones inside. The first pair approached as soon as she was through the gate, quickly being rushed down, their throats getting crushed at the same time with a direct, forceful buck. Long, sharp objects were attached to their sides. They sizzled and disintegrated soon as their carriers died, not giving the mare any time to repurpose them as weapons.

She ran through wide streets and below tall structures consumed by flames, all of them swarming with the dark creatures. Senseless noises filled the air as droves of the attackers filled the sky, seeming to crash into one another just to create the racket. The former white of the stones was drowned out by the deep orange glow of the fire and the dark swarm of the invaders. They crept through the streets and alleys, and the mare would crash into them, violently dispatching whoever got in her way. Some lasted long enough to try and get a blow in, but the pegasus simply hopped back or shoved them to the ground before they could finish. She stomped on their heads, crushed their throats, and smashed their chests, continuing on without a halt.

The mare proceeded on rooftops, smashing idly standing monsters against the railings before they could react, flinging their bodies over the side and onto the pavement. Above them, a glowing purple orb came to life, growing with ecah moemnt, failing to brighten the environment, but highlighting the mare’s rampage through the invaders’ ranks. Few remained to stand in her way - although hundreds were amassed in a mess of colors near the orb's origin, not far below from the rooftops. There was a white marble palace there, charred and smoked, hardly visible behind the innumerable figures and blurry colors. The mare sped past it without a glance, rushing onwards.

Her advance only paused when she saw a larger creature. It was even darker, with a massive horn on its head, jagged and crooked like its fangs. They were both longer, sharper, reaching past its chest. It had large, gaping green eyes, which drowned out all the color and darkness nearby. It stood on a balcony, staring into the chaos, and did not bother turning around to see the mare speed by. The smaller beings that surrounded it took off in the mare’s direction, following her through a flaming marketplace, while the large creature disappeared in the explosion of colors at the square.

Those who followed, despite using their wings and long weapons, failed to dispatch the mare. She struck from around corners, smashing her body into theirs and making them crumble from the impact. By the time she emerged from the snaking pathways, none remained. She began to approach a plaza, with a broken fountain, ruined statues, and crushed archways. The pegasus stared at it for a few seconds, only moving to buck one last creature as it attempted to rush her from behind. Its head shattered, and she galloped forward, to where a bright green light was emitting near the collapsed arch.

“You can’t.”

She ran even faster, hooves ringing sharply on the cobblestone, eyes set on a point in the distance as it began to lose definition. The glowing, lightless sun above her spun in the sky, counting days within seconds. Eventually, the pegasus had taken half-flight, using her wings to propel herself. Ash and debris littered the air around her, although she never took a breath.

Ditzy only made a sound when a crushing, sharp blow hit her in the face, making her convulse. She hissed in pain, gurgling. Her gurgling turned into choking, and her forehooves went for her throat as a wide, unceremonious gash split it open.

“Then keep feeding the birds.”

May 3rd, 09:10 AM - 1013 AN
Carol City, Equestria

Ditzy lay in a tangled mess of her bedsheets and blanket, a torn pillow coating her with tiny feathers. Her chest heaved and her limbs shivered, eyes twitching. A small statue of a pigeon, which formerly stood next to the alarm clock on the drawer, had rolled beside her, covered in a few drops of blood. The alarm clock itself hung over the edge on its wires, dangling above the mare’s head, its glass broken. Brightly colored linens, dragging all the way from the bed to the floor, were covered by a tinge of red in places.

A heavy rasp or gurgle came with each breath from the mare, whose eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, unabated by the searing light from the window. Her forehooves escaped from the linens that entangled them, letting her touch her throat. A series of weak coughs came out. Ditzy rubbed a small bruise on the side of her head.

She lay there for some time, until another coughing fit overtook her. The good eye kept watching the idle fan on the ceiling, while the bad one rolled off to the side. Tears welled up in them from how long she kept them open, so the mare slowly closed them and gave a labored sigh. Parts of her body still twitched weakly, too stiff to move.

The door to her room creaked faintly and swiveled open.

“Mom?.. Mom?!”

What parts of the pegasus were not numb suddenly felt a little warmer, though they still convulsed. She tried to wave her foreleg, but only ended up pushing against her own throat, eyes clenched in pain.

“Oh, oh, oh shoot… No, no, not again… Okay, calm down!”

Just as the pegasus’ throat seemed to have cleared, a sore, rending coughing fit took her over, as if all of the dust in the room had settled within her mouth. She tried to tilt her head upwards and keep her airways clear, but her muscles did not respond. Her eye widened when she faintly felt a pair of little hooves help her instead, and she gasped for air. To the best of her ability, Ditzy let her body relax.

“Okay… okay… how did I do it last time? H-how did I do it last time?! Okay! Right, right, right… R-right…”

Another seizure had a massive cramp spread through her body, tensing muscles up to where they rubbed painfully against each other, so tight that the bones threatened to snap. With all the effort she could muster, as well as a good deal of help from the filly, she kept a steady breath and intact bones.

“It’s okay, it’s all fine, it’s okay, it’s all fine, it’s okay-it’s okay-it’s okaaay…”

The mare was almost hit by another seizure, foam starting to form in her mouth, but somehow, her body managed to calm down. Despite immense pressure, it did not cave to the twitching impulse and remained still. Only heavy breaths, panicked sobs, and the outside noises of a beach on Sunday filled the room.

“See? See, it’s all okay. You, you always get through it okay. There’s… there’s nothing to worry about. There’s never anything to fear. I’m… I’m okay, you’re okay. Please be calm. Please be okay…”

Ditzy coughed up the last of the foam from her mouth before pulling the child in for a hug. She returned it happily, ignoring the sweat covering her mother all over. They lay next to each other, both sighing happily, surrounded by sweaty, blooded bedsheets, banknotes of foreign currency having spilled from the drawer, the disconnected alarm clock still hanging by its wires, and a police siren sounding off in the distance.

***

...that at least six more locations had been subject to highly facetious activity, are less than founded. In my editorial, and personal, opinions, while the post-Wedding War fear had fueled our paranoia rightly, this is no longer the time for drastic conclusions. According to the CCPD, there is nothing tying together the incidents at Dasher Station, the Belle docks and multiple locations at Starling Avenue. The devastation of the Seashore Suites Hotel and the carnage at the Griffon-Equestrian Deposits Bank, also roped into the discussion by many panicking individuals, have been clarified and confirmed, being an issue of great discomfort for us all. The severe damage to our city that was done, and continues to be done, is massive.

However, I ask not to be misunderstood - I bear no lack of respect for those damaged in the tragedies brought on us by the deplorable post-effects of the Wedding War and the ensuing atrocity inflicted upon our lost brethren. Yet, it is not this that I intend to touch upon, but the decline of our morale, manifested in the dangerous, panic-inducing rumors that would best be dispelled. Unfortunately, is the as of yet unconnected incidents that rile minds the most. Even the exact nature of those incidents differs greatly, as the forensics experts and active officers had stated and proved. The only link between the, undoubtedly, horrendous happenings, are the body counts of our innocent citizens. This is doubtlessly a cause of major concern, as such violent sprees are a nation-wide precedent we would wish to leave in the past. The severity of the situation, compounded by the undisputed fact that those protected by the Prejudice Rock pact happened to be within each area, no doubt gives our police department plenty of motivation and leads.

Whoever continues to perpetrate the disgusting rumors of our peaceful citizens performing streaks of vicious mob killings is simply showing disrespect for the lives lost and damaged. Disrespect for the police officers that undertook a number of the operations assigned to the nonexistent, exaggerated killers. I would even risk saying that the terrorist organization ES/AS, which has recently begun to take root in this city, deserves a small amount of it, as they too have been striking the mob, if even for unethical, intrinsically wrong reasons. Be it the virtues of our police, or the ruthlessness and unponylike abuse of technology, there has indeed been much damage dealt to the already waning criminal underworld. It is insane to consider that a group of regular citizens wearing masks and armed with random objects could stand a chance against the vile Tunnel Snakes or their like. More troubling yet is the increase in vocality among proponents of this idea, all too similar to the public unrest that preceded the events in Packsmulle and San Franciscolt. However, one thing has to remain in all our minds, even as the worst of fortune seems to have befallen the city.

We did not emerge victorious from the terror and paranoia of the Wedding War by being rash, or disorganized, or apprehensive. We were a whole, and yet we were individuals, each of our own, beautiful in our own right. Through this intricacy and unity, we secured our future. It would be unfitting for any of you proud citizens of Equestria, of Carol City, to discard those values and give in to scurrying like a brood of hens without a rooster. Remain alert, remain thinking and remain aware.

Remain open to all possibilities, both the best and the worst. Our goal remains to keep nothing hidden and tell nothing but the truth, to prevent noxious speculation. For this reason, I would like to announce that next week we will have had a conversation with a certain controversial figure, a pony involved in the investigation of the incidents that had been plaguing Carol City: a former officer of the CCPD, whose identity will remain anonymous, who has come forward claiming to have the answers to the questions that have been plaguing this city. Paranoid overthinking, inconclusive evidence, or a bright spot in a web of ignorance?

Whatever and whoever, if anything, is behind this, remember that we are all a wholesome unity of wonderful individuals, and nothing will change that.

Chief Editor Willow Wings and Interspecies Relations Expert Gabriel Engels

PART 4 - WRONG ADDRESS. Chapter 1: Underground

…

March 30th, 1013 AN - 11:20 PM

Carol City, Equestria

Carol City Subway Maintenance Areas

A slowly breathing unicorn stood in front of the bathroom sink, leaning against it with their hooves, droplets of water from the cracked ceiling landing on the overgrown fetlocks. They stared at themselves, bloodshot, widened green eyes locked onto their counterparts in the cracked, stained mirror. The unicorn chewed on their lip, blood trickling from it. Spastic, raspy breaths emerged from them as they twitched, shaking their head slowly, slowing their breath down with every second. The weak crystalline bulb swung on its long cord, vibrated by the loud music in the bigger space outside the door.

The pony leaned closer to the mirror, touching it with their tattoo and piercing-covered snout. It was oddly shaped, featuring small indents and cavities, signs of poorly healed bones. Little of the coat on the right side was unstained, either bulging with greenish joy spots or covered in ink. The only discernible picture among the unending inks was a segregated, small image below their left eye, a rhombus formation of three colored in crystals and one drawn in an outline. Their cheeks were deeply sunken in, and almost half of the teeth in their open hanging mouth were artificial. Shifting from side to side on the flimsy cord, the bulb illuminated the weak pinks of what remained of the pony’s receding mane.

Their eyes slowly rolled back and their eyelids shut. A deep gurgling sound came from their throat, culminating in a guttural, wet splash of bile into the dirty sink. The unicorn paused after hurling up the gelatinous substance, freezing in place, but erupted again into a long output of bile moments afterward, covering their torn-up black hoodie and the chains wrapped around the joints of their legs in drops of muddy liquid. Once there was no more bile, the unicorn took a deep, raspy breath, wiping their mouth with a shaking hoof. Then they finally addressed a persistent knocking on the bathroom door:

“Piss off, I had to fucking puke!” they shouted in an unsteady voice, clearing their throat afterward. “Holy shit, you people.”

The pony got all their hooves on the tiles and headed for the door, bashing the inside lock with a muscular hoof and ramming it open with their head. It opened with a pause, budging against something fleshy, but going all the way once the unicorn rammed it again. On leaving, walked over a pony on the floor, clutching their head and groaning in pain, a trickle of blood leaving their nose. The unicorn stared at them for half a second and turned away, taking increasingly steadier steps toward the pile of decrepit couches, rugs, pieces of cardboard and other items of makeshift furniture that housed food, drink and speakers that blared music. Having made a few steps, they abruptly turned around and glared at the downed pony, squinting at the trickle that had turned green. The unicorn rushed back to them, bucking them with their hind hooves several times. Once they were done, they hissed and exhaled, shaking their head.

“You’re not even people.”

“Handsome!” a shrill voice shouted from the other side of the large maintenance area made disco hall. “The fuck you doing? Oh, shit, again? Again?!” The voice belonged to a leatherbound earth stallion with spiky green hair, who pulled himself out of the embrace of a pair of passed out identical, makeup-coated mares to wave at the unicorn. “Chill! Come over here.”

Handsome’s eyes twitched, but then they sighed and plowed through idly bouncing, punky ragged ponies, heading toward the couches in the center. Leaning against the side of the couch the stallion sat on, they wiped their hind hooves against the back of an unconscious pony’s black hoodie. Their squinted eyes dilated a little, scanning the chaotic mess of strobe colors and inebriated equines filling the decorated room.

“Dude, this party sucks,” Handsome said, glaring at the stallion. “I fucking hate these… people.”

“Yo, I invited these morons,” he replied, shrugging, grinning at the unicorn with gilded teeth. “Have to keep morale up and shit. Big holiday.”

“Uhuh. Three days before shit went fucked? Big fucking holiday my ass.”

“Handsome, bro, you know they check the tunnels for us after last time. Gotta be discrete and shit.”

Handsome’s lips curled down as they tracked a black, jagged equine shape with glowing green eyes in the distance, drinking with a group of ponies.

“So like, don’t leave corpses behind. It gets everyone down and we may get busted.”

“Well fucking dump him somewhere if he’s dead,” the unicorn stated, glaring through the earth stallion’s shades. “I don’t care. I don’t care for shit.”

After a few seconds of staring, the stallion looked away, chuckling briefly, and reaching over for a drink on a nearby box. He looked at the unicorn again, then at the bottle, his hoof a fair distance away from the drink, and continued to shift his head from one to the other, eventually making a waving gesture with his other hoof.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Hey, fetch your boss a drink, bro! Stop being a cunt." The stallion punched himself against the stomach. "You want the bull to have a talk with you?”

Handsome half-knelt, lighting up their horn, and hurled the bottle in the stallion’s direction. It hit him straight in the face, and shattered once he scrambled to keep it from falling.

“Keep hiring roaches, and you stop being my boss.” The unicorn hissed. “You want to go up against me? Say another word.” The earth pony grunted and swore, pulling a few pieces of glass out of his face. “I’m not going to be beating suckers up for a bug humper. I’m sick of this crap. Bad enough every day's the same with you shiteaters. And fuck your bull, he’s a cock.”

Lobbing a gob of spit on the floor, Handsome moved to a relatively secluded corner of the party zone, tracking the banners and ribbons hanging off the machinery and spread underneath the ceiling, scowling at their contents. Having arrived at a couple of boxes with drinks on them, the unicorn flung crumpled a sheet reading “04-03” and threw it off one of the boxes, sitting down on the spot it occupied. Weakly lighting up their horn, Handsome moved a bigger box closer to the makeshift table, slouching against it in an impromptu armchair.

The unicorn took a few swigs of the drink, gulping most of the bottle down after the initial taste. Halfway through the next bottle, a tapping of a hoof on the side of the box-seat got Handsome to choke and have to clear their throat.

“The fuck you assholes want?” the unicorn shouted. “I’m sitting here, you got a problem with that?”

“Okay, okay!.. Don’t be a buzzkill,” a pink pegasus with bangy salad green hair said. “I just got something, y’know, fun to do, and you look bored as balls.” He motioned over to an actual table nearby. “Something real good.”

“If you're offering joy, I've had my fill of roach piss for the night,” Handsome replied through gritted teeth, downing the rest of the bottle in one gulp. “Throat's sore.”

“Dude! That’s the point. This is better, and it’s not as gross either. Fuck joy, for real.”

“Do I know you?” The unicorn turned around, half getting off their seat, staring directly at the pegasus with their mouth open, huffing. “Do you know ME?”

“What? Like, uh— What, wait, uh… Oh, fuck,” the pegasus stammered in response, pressing a hoof against his face after glaring at the unicorn’s bottom half, uncovered by any clothes, exposed as the pony was slouching. “Yeah, okay, I kinda figured since they call you Handsome—”

“The fuck kinda business is it of yours?” Handsome said raspily. “I’m a mare if you wanna. I don’t give a shit. I can make you suck it no matter what.” They got off the box and moved slowly toward the backpedaling pegasus. “What the hell are you starting at? Yeah, see my face? I did half of these myself.” The unicorn lit up their horn to smash their bottle against their own face, only blinking for a second as their snout was punctured by a few shards of wet glass. “You think I couldn’t have done nothing down there? Cause I could have! I can show you how, if you’re interested, you nosy fuck!” The pony jabbed the surviving tip of the bottle toward the pegasus, who flung himself back, scowling.

“Holy shit, you’re insane,” the stallion said with a shrug. He picked the tip of the bottle out of the telekinetic grip with a hoof and gave the inside of it a lick, shuddering and grinning. “Welcome to the club. Wanna come over? I’m not bullshitting, I got stuff that’ll blow the usual roach-made crap out of the water. You can stay at my place if it takes you hard.”

Handsome stared at the pegasus, breathing loudly, staying silent. The tip of the bottle moved with their magic again and made a sharp stabbing motion toward the pegasus, who ducked and rolled within a half second. The unicorn’s head tilted, droplets of blood from their lip and the fresh snout wounds dripping on the floor.

“Okay. Fine. Don’t make me sign anything. Hear?”

“Yeah, sure! Let’s get out of this ditch,” the pink pegasus agreed with a smile, turning toward the table nearby, where a big sheet of paper lay, similar to the banners strewn all over the party zone, but bearing a different symbol, a circle with shapes inside of it. “I swear I’ll start smashing roaches if I see another one next to me.”

Handsome sucked on the blood coming down their snout. They rubbed their eyes and spat on the ground, straightening out their worn hoodie. A hoof brushed back what remained of their mane. The pink pegasus in his racing jacket was heading off to one of the exits, toward the tracks. The changeling guards that stood there with their glowing smokesticks shouted him out, pointing to get back to the main exit, guarded by the actual gang members. The pegasus smashed one against a wall, and felled the other on the ground, stepping on the equine’s leg joints one by one, the disguise flickering in and out. The loud music and sporadic lighting left that unnoticed by everyone but the unicorn, who stared and mouthed silent words with their bloodsoaked lips.

Taking a glance back at the main contingent of the gang, who were unpacking a crate of greenish pills while the stallion with the green mohawk rambled on, the unicorn sped after the pegasus, who had almost disappeared toward the tracks.

“My place is just up there,” he said, without looking back.

“You can talk like I’m a ‘she’.” Handsome told him, clearing her throat. “For variety.”

March 31st, 1013 AN - 3:32 AM

Carol City, Equestria

66 Branch Ave

“Uuuoff… I can feel everything,” a stallion next to the unicorn on the floor blubbered, touching his face as his eyes dilated. “Shit, I see everything…”

“I don’t feel shit,” Handsome stated, shrugging and lowering her face into the fuming bowl everyone was gathered around.

“Do you… know why we’re here?” the pink pegasus said slowly, looking through the mare, bangs of his green mane falling over his eyes.

The mare shook her head, waving a colored trail of vapor emitting from a series of hookahs all over the room away from her. Her own pupils grew increasingly larger, and her mouth hung open, to a lesser extent than the other ponies in the congregation. She mouthed a series of curses at one of the ponies, a blonde-maned green earth mare, who squinted at her in return. Having seen another blonde green pony to the other side of her, Handsome pushed her hooves against her eyes, rubbing her face and opening up a bandaged wound.

“I’m getting high,” the mare responded, having a short coughing fit afterward. The flame underneath the bowl trembled, casting dashing shadows on the walls.

“We’re letting our true nature take over,” the second green earth pony said, without looking at her. “This is how it really is. This is how it should be.”

“What’s your cutie mark?” another pony asked. Handsome lifted her head to look at them, but the trembling flames cast a shadow over their face.

“The fuck’s it to you?” the mare replied.“It don’t matter. Stupid fucking shit.” She reached for a bottle of salted liquor and gulped it down.

“Exactly. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re not bound by this old magic anymore. We're in transit.”

“We’re going to be free soon. Again.”

Handsome’s head slumped, a string of drool hanging from her mouth. She scowled, bashing herself on the head. The rest were sitting on their haunches, slowly tilting side to side in unison, breathing slower and slower. The unicorn slumped her back against the couch close behind her. Her hind legs twitched slightly. She looked up at the beaked figures eyeing her from all sides.

“You’ll fall asleep and wake to a new world again,” a flat-billed shape told her. “Our world. We’ll make this right.”

“We’ll make this right, without their yoke,” said another one. He sat to the side, looking directly at Handsome. "Something has got to give."

“It’s come down to this,” an owl spoke up, glaring at her from the dark. “So we’ll make it work. It’s better than leaving things as they are.”

“You see now?” a seagull said. “No more bullshit. No more lies. No more boredom.”

“This is a fucking circus…” Handsome rasped quietly.

“Take another breath and you’ll see… This is what makes us what we are. With each new day.”

“Fuck this.” She grabbed the rest of the bottles from the table, scrounged up a box of unfinished pizza, and scuttled back toward the sofa, leaning against it and staring at the figures who sat silently, motionlessly, boring into her with their eyes. The mare shrugged and opened a bottle, gulping down its contents.

“Do you know what's going to happen?,” the Vulture told her, its teeth glowing in the flame.

“I dunno shit.” Handsome shrugged, leaning her smooth-skinned head against a fallen cushion, drooling out of the thick, long beak.

April 2nd, 1013 AN - 9:40 AM

“You’ve been here before. Get up, sweetie.”

The unicorn rolled around on the tiger skin carpet, clutching her head and grunting. She moaned, pushing against a nearby glass table with her bare back.

“...”

“Wha… who?” she muttered. Rising to her hooves, she stumbled through the large, decorated living room, filled with unconscious, drooling ponies and expensive ornaments, half of them knocked down or tilted. “Ugh, what was that?..”

Her flank brushed against a tall record holder with a turntable, a disk labeled “EMPEROR” spinning on its top. The device rattled, and the droning, distorted noise coming out of it hiccuped, continuing at a slower, less coherent pace. Her eyes passed over the messy room, tearing up at the strong smell emitting from the bowl and several hookahs next to some of the unconscious ponies. Handsome yawned and shook her head, squinting and scanning the ponies.

Directly underneath the record holder was a lanky stallion with a long black mane, crumbs stuck in his dreadlocks, liquid splashed on his pitch black shades. Curled up on the floor nearby was an overweight red stallion in a white shirt, whose red cap, lying in front of him, was filled with vomit. A pale blue stallion in a red leather letterpony jacket with a darker blue gelled mane sat unconscious, propped up against the table. Hanging partly off a window-wide hammock was a brown stallion in a striped shirt, whose goatee was stained with a crusted, thin trickle of browning blood. Underneath the hammock was another stallion, on top of whom lay a picture of a setting sun that formerly hung over the window.

Handsome paused by a nearby wall-mounted mirror, passing a glance over herself. An quiet mess of noises left her when she stumbled over a model carriage - a long, red cart, the roof of which bore the logo of a hawk with brightly glowing eyes made of electrified crystals. Handsome kicked the toy, pulling it out of the gaping, face-like wall socket.

“I’ve looked worse…” the unicorn mumbled. She turned her head and moved around, squinting at her image. There were fresh wounds on her face and some cuts around her abdomen, trails of darkening red on the massive, warped mess of tattoos that covered both of her flanks, completely drowning the cutiemark in shapes, lines, figures, words and colors.

Glancing to her side, she noticed that far on the other side of the room, near what must have been an indoor fire, was a pile of unconscious people. A green earth mare and stallion, and a red-haired, bearded yellow unicorn nearby, his glasses some distance away on the floor. Close by was a young male griffon with curled-up black plumage, splayed against a decorative vined rock. Hanging on the far wall was a dried, cracked skull with a star-like symbol painted on it in red paint. Underneath it was a big videodrome running on mute, various addons and additional drives spinning and flickering.

The green-haired pegasus sprawled on a couch close to where she awoke. His eyes were wide open.

“Hey, you… How fuckin’ long have I…” Handsome stammered, biting on her tongue and spitting on the tiger carpet. “What did I take again? Are the pigs gonna come?”

The pegasus remained silent. His eyes stared at the ceiling unblinkingly, both pupils heavily dilated, leaving almost no whites. His hooves were crossed on his chest. With them, two large chopping knives were being held tightly, pressing hard into the stallion’s chest, leaving indents. Quiet, tense puffs of breath came from his flaring nostrils.

“You there! The fuck did we take!” she demanded, waving a hoof in front of his eyes, brushing a fetlock over his snout. “What’s going on? Where’s the bathroom?” There was no reaction.

Handsome rolled her eyes and turned around, bucking the couch, to no effect. She proceeded to stumble outside, into the corridor, and slowly trod on, shielding her eyes from the morning light with a hoof. The mare ended up tripping over, banging her head against a clothes rack, collapsing it onto herself. Shouting and growling, she bucked it off, throwing clothes all over the corridor. One of the items, a racer’s plastic helmet with a toned visor, ended up bouncing off the wall and hitting her once again. Once she kicked it far down the corridor, Handsome lay on her back, clearing her throat and staring at the ceiling. Colorful patterns shifted and moved all over it, projected by small crystalline maps on the sides of the walls.

The mare’s pupils shrunk back to a normal size after a minute of looking at the patterns. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, scrambling to feel through the clothes surrounding her. She opened her eyes upon having reached a hoodie, only to grimace after seeing it was pink, despite being in good condition. She rifled through its pockets, looting a pack of mint chewing gum and throwing a few pieces in her mouth. The pocket also contained a crystalline pendant on a chain, which she held onto with her mouth. Handsome crawled further up the corridor, touching clothes and throwing them aside.

“Ugh… Fuck this,” she mumbled, spitting into somebody’s jacket, laying the pendant aside. After rubbing her eyes, Handsome scowled and grabbed the nearest outfit she could find. The unicorn moaned as she struggled back onto her hooves and slowly put on the loosely fitting clothes. She shook her head and popped a bubble of gum before opening her eyes again. “Whatever.” The mare swung a hoof through the air, bending down to pick up the crystalline object and shoving it into her pocket. She then continued down the corridor, wearing an untidy postpony’s uniform, squinting hard to avoid the rising sun.

Handsome budged doors as she passed them, making her way through the sizable apartment and steadily reaching the entrance. She grunted and huffed as each refused to open, none of the doors bearing any indication as to their contents. Eventually, the unicorn took a detour through the kitchen, which was located behind a transparent door, and stuck her head under the kitchen tap. This sent a pile of dishes flying all over, most crashing on the floor. The mare showered her head and gargled water for a few minutes, before retreating and making her way back to the front door, throwing her wet head around.

“Wha?..” she muttered, pressing an ear to the door. There were knocking noises outside the apartment, which quickly passed. The unicorn scowled, making her way to the entry door and giving it a push. It opened with a creak, having already been opened earlier during the night. Handsome stepped outside, having to shield her eyes from the sun. There was no apartment block - the unicorn was out on the street, having left what was a private house. “Okay…”

Placed on the porch was a cardboard box. The top was fastened with scotch tape and bore a postal symbol - a circle containing a star, a heart and a crescent moon. The words “EQUESTRIA DELIVERY” ran along the tape. Handsome looked back into the still quiet house and closed the front door. She looked at the package for a few seconds, before shrugging and fizzling her horn to life, using it to help tear the package open.

“...”

The box contained a wad of yellow foreign bills, which the unicorn stuffed into a pocket of the suit. There was also a written note, a glossy pamphlet, and a large rubber mask - a vulture. She stared into its eyeholes as it was hoisted up into the air by her telekinesis. Her lips moved silently, and her eyes widened. After a bit of hesitation, she put the mask on. Handsome’s whole body shook and jolted, her breath ceasing for a few moments. She eventually took a loud, deep breath, moaning and chuckling in a low, throaty, raspy gurgle.

“F-fuck… I can… I’ve been…”

The note hung in front of her face, shaking as the unicorn’s horn threatened to shut down. Her dilated pupils scanned the lines of text.

”Hey, Skate.

Got you your things. That’s the best for going into the deep shit pits. I shouldn’t have to tell you, but we have to be discrete, the start has got to be smooth, cause if this turns into a shitstorm, we'd rather not improvise. Also, as you can see, the money didn’t go to waste, everything is high quality. If you can hook up more contacts, that would be good.

Since you insist, here’s your part. The southeastern part of the subway is real screwed up. Sun Hearth to Dasher to Memorial, Dasher in particular is fucked, you can guess why repairs are taking so long. Need some serious cleaning there. You won’t believe the sort of trash you can find there, so don’t wing it. Take your time, study the layout. Tap a few locals, they may know something, just don’t get into the messy details.

Don’t fuck this up. It’s best if we wait with this, anyway. Don’t get cocky.

Check it,
Boomer.”

“Heart, Dasher, Memorial… Dasher. Oh. Ah. Ahah. Yeeeah.” Handsome said. She arched her back, her eyes rolling, hooves rubbing the vulture’s mask into her face. “You got it.”

The unicorn breathed heavily, eliciting light squeaking noises, as she mounted a sleek, plastic-padded two-wheeled vehicle parked by the fence. It chirped and went aglow as she put the crystal pendant against it, and with a pump of the pedal, it took her down the vacant streets under the morning haze.

***

Dasher Station Maintenance Tunnels - 9:19 PM

Handsome's head bashed against a safety poster on the wall of the tunnel off the empty station. She rammed once more with her entire body, forcing open a secluded space. She breathed loudly, scrounging through the tight room filled with boxes and cases, most containing used, taped-together firearms and flammables. Throwing several off to the side, causing their contents to drop all over the floor, the masked unicorn made her way to the far wall of the small room. There, on the wall, hung a large customized blunderbuss, roughly the size of Handsome herself. Underneath it, on a table, lay a massive wooden club, hammered all over with nails, slabs of iron, stuck with syringes, covered in patches of dried paint.

“Eenie, meenie, miney…” Her hoof landed on the large blade that replaced most of the butt of the enormous gun. “Moe.”

Handsome stormed out of the cache, levitating the blunderbuss to her side, telekinetically maneuvering chunks of crystal down its barrel. The bright green glow of her horn illuminated the walls of the subway, as well as the sparks the bladed hilt of the gun left behind as it scraped against the smooth stone. Noise was audible beyond the scraping - whirring, humming magical machinery, and off to the side, loudly conversing voices. The mare stopped abruptly and turned, smashing the massive weapon against a wall. It met no physical barrier, floating through solid rock, which went transparent and revealed a service door. The vulture’s beak nodded, and Handsome rammed the door open.

Those inside jumped at the loud noise and cowered at the screeching wail that came from the unicorn as she unloaded the gun into the nearest hoodlum. The stallion’s baggy, dirty street clothes had large holes burned through them, myriads of tiny, searing crystalline projectiles penetrating them and ripping into the flesh. He was covered in smoke within seconds, falling over with his mouth open in a silent scream, convulsing with his hooves clutching his melting chest. His killer stampeded at the others, who failed to put up any resistance. One of them was knocked straight off their hooves and carried by the unicorn’s push into one of the whirring machines, plastering them against the metal. Their snout was crushed deep into their head with a blow of the levitated gun, leaving their body to erupt into sparkles and twitch as its changeling drone shape liquified.

The remaining ones glared at the masked unicorn for another couple of seconds, before sprinting down to their right - into a narrow passage connecting maintenance rooms. She screech-laughed, stomping her hooves and scraping the blade of the gun against the floor as she caught up to the entrance to the corridor. Instead of Handsome entering, the blunderbuss was lifted inside instead, pushed forward a couple of meters. Its trigger went off, sending a hail of scorching crystals down toward the escapees, whose glowing, seared bodies lit the dark passway up as they fell over, gurgling and yelling. Their voices ceased to echo through the maintenance area when the masked mare walked over them, stomping her hooves against their bodies until neither writhed any longer.

She entered the room they attempted to rush for, the gun trailing behind, slicing off limbs as it did. As soon as she did, a glowing projectile hit the wall next to her, barely missing the masked killer’s head. A half-shaved mare in dirty, dark coveralls stood by a lamplit table at the other side of the room, aiming a wristbound gun at her, eyes open wide, shouting something. Handsome cackled and coughed, stomping over to her, side-stepping on time to evade another shot, and preventing the third from being fired by uppercutting the mare with the bladed hilt. The cut went straight up to her face, slicing the chest and neck in half, causing a flood of green goop to erupt from the now-idle body. She landed her hoof on the mare’s piercing-laden face before it morphed back into its original changeling form.

“FUCK, I NEEDED THIS!!!” she let out a garbled, raspy screech. Her horn glowed brighter, miscellaneous pieces of crystal being pulled from the paper and utensil-filled table, crushed in mid-air, and shoved down the barrel of the gun.

The mare continued to roar and scream as she left back the way she came from, stepping over the dismembered, molten bodies. Handsome's hollering was drowned out by the sound of a passing train, zooming through the subway. A group of four more hoodlums met her in the room she came in through, having emerged from another maintenance chamber - three pierced, tattooed earth stallions with chains wrapped around their forehooves and a unicorn mare in a cheap, dark suit, who levitated a small crystalline firearm in front of herself, with gritted teeth. The unicorn’s gun threw itself toward the mare, knocking the competitor out of air, its force of impact launching her body far back, throwing her headfirst into a sharp angle of the wall.

The masked mare let out a feral growl, slurping as she audibly licked her lips under her beaked visage. Neglecting to go on the offensive, the three stallions circled her, spinning the ends of the heavy chains around in the air, glaring at her, shouting a cacophony of curses and swears. Two of them were nearly identical to one another, one pony’s tattoos being muddled, and the piercings lacking glint to their metal. The unicorn cocked her head in that stallion’s direction, roaring at him and unloading a storm of fiery crystals, which he failed to dodge, being hit on the top of his head as he ducked. His scalp immediately began to steam, smoke and boil, melting on the spot while the equine let out a distorted scream. It was cut short by a heavy swing from the blunderbuss, leveling the remnants of his head into the ground, coating the dark iron weapon in steaming green liquid.

The two remaining hoodlums took that time to move in, swinging their chains from a distance, hitting the gun as it retreated from the changeling’s bashed-in body. It trembled in the air, stumbling the killer as well, as her horn flickered out of function. With a hissing groan, she spun around and glared at the two with her bloodshot, widened green eyes. In the moment’s pause transpiring after one of them stared back, abruptly going silent with his jaw hanging open, she pulled strongly at the chain with her forehoof. That downed the stallion and left his head to be stomped on by the same hoof, which turned it into pinkish-red mush of brain, blood and bone in five successive stomps. A bit of brain remained on her hoof as she leaped back, evading a downward chain swipe that crushed the fallen pony’s head even further.

The other stallion, a near identical copy, recoiled from his missed strike, stumbling on unsteady legs, shaking and breathing heavily. His body sparkled and fizzled, small parts of his attire getting blurrier, almost melting into the rest of his body. The changeling’s eyes became a blank green void, and he fell over, clinging to his head with sharpening hooves. The mare hissed through the mask, gurgling and growling as she made her way to the twitching, struggling body, forcing it on its back. One of her hooves punched through the drone’s gritted teeth, forcing the mouth open, leaving enough space for her other hoof to shove its way in as well. With a raspy roar, she pulled its mouth open, until the unstable, melding chitin comprising the drone’s cheeks began to tear and pop. After a few seconds of cracking, popping, sizzling noises, the changeling’s lower jaw came clean off, while the inertia of the pull forced the vulture’s hoof to plant the rest of its head into the floor, bashing the back of it apart, spreading liquid synapse all over.

“FINALLY!” she screamed, descending into giddy laughter.

The mare lifted her head to see the unicorn that had been thrown away first - in her place, a less crude, more ponylike changeling figure sat, its snake-like eyes rolled back, shuddering in place, a part of their head missing, splashed on the wall. The gun and the clothes the other ‘unicorn’ once wore had disintegrated into bits of green synaptic sludge on the floor. As Handsome climbed back from the mutilated corpse and took hold of her weapon again, she moved on through the tunnel, not before swiping the hilt blade against the body, nearly slicing the degenerating mass in half.

The lamps illuminating the tunnel flickered, and the ever present distant shouting became louder, the noisy subway maintenance machinery having been depowered. Rows of three rectangular crystal generators with wires tangling all over the floor lined the sides of the room, and in the middle stood a big glass pillar of liquid crystal, covered in perspiration. The light orange glow of the massive coolant and generator devices went dimmer, no longer casting light on the scrambling contingent of the room, each of them dressed in dark, worn street clothes, glistening metal fastened to their forehooves, some of the pins littering their leathery clothing continuing to provide small reflections to give them away. Most kept to the cover of the large pieces of machinery, but Handsome was quick enough to intercept a latecomer, whose glowing smokestick gave them away in the gloom, and unload a crystalline shot into them. The pony screamed gutturally, their mane catching fire, but their struggle was brought to an end by a swing of a metal pipe to their neck.

The same metal pipe began to bang furiously on the metal at the base of the glass pillar, creating striking waves of clanging noise, almost diverting the vulture from her continued assault. She still made her way to where an entire group of ragged individuals took cover, swinging her gun like a club, the short moment of disorientation being compensated by the effective range of her melee - three gangsters were incapacitated in one swipe, only one having been hit, yet flying into their allies with propelled force. Aggravated chatter and pipe clanging were drowned out for a moment by the thundering sound of the discharging blunderbuss, peppering three bodies with searing crystals at once, filling the maintenance chamber with brief wails of agony, brought to a quick end by the bludgeoning of the bodies with the huge metal tube.

“HARD AT WORK, YOU BLISTERING CUNTS?”

She found herself glared at by at least a dozen pairs of eyes, some of them flickering and distorting erratically. The hoodlums directly opposite her had abandoned their cover after seeing what became of the ones who hid where she now stood. Instead, the common thugs had fallen to the farther back of the chamber, making noise, chattering and swinging their scrap weapons around. In front of her was now a brown stallion with dirty, spiky green hair, bound in tight leathery attire, pins and decorative chains hanging off him, his blood-covered pipe hung over his shoulder. He stared in her eyes from behind his shades, which slipped down his nose. Handsome stared in return, twirling her gun slowly in the air, tilting her head.

“You’re dead meat, you trashbag,” the earth stallion shouted at her, smashing a nearby piece of machinery with his pipe for emphasis.

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” the mare growled back in return, her voice croaking. She cleared her throat and huffed a few times, continuing to glare unblinkingly in his eyes. Mild depressions formed on the mask from the chewing the mare was doing underneath, mouth splitting into a neurotic grin.

“You’re DEAD, psycho!”

“Fucking WRONG!” Handsome roared with laughter, abruptly pointing the gun at the stallion and pulling back the wide trigger. “I’m FIRED, BOSS!”

The stallion let out a falsetto screech, tumbling on the floor, losing his pipe and shades and darting off. He bull-rushed through his thugs, hollering and wailing as he disappeared down another tunnel. Another train swung through the tunnel beside the area, filling the chamber with even more noise. The hoodlum formation was further destroyed when the vulture followed through, on the other side, clearing a path with another shot that left writhing, scorched equines behind, swinging the gun hilt-forward in a pendulum manner, mowing down the disorganized gang as it attempted to get in the way. Only some did - after the struggling from the crystal-seared ponies ended, and having seen three ponies disemboweled with a single swipe and four drones liquify as their heads were taken clean off by the barrel, at least two set off to flee in the opposite direction from where the spiky-haired one ran away to.

The mare emitted a sharp, high-pitched noise, shaking in place, and stormed after the two, catching up to them within seconds, tackling one and knocking the other off his legs in the same motion. At the sight of the tackled thug’s blood turning green, she spat into the mask and brought her head hard down upon theirs, bashing their forehead right in, weak, deteriorated chitin giving in to the powerful blow. Before the other could get up, she quickly turned her head to where the leader ran off to, squinting her eyes. With a shrug, she brought the blade down on one of the pony’s hind legs, chopping half of it off, the rest being saved by the metal chain that got in the way.

Having left a crippled, silently screaming victim behind, she followed through on the target, imitating his noisemaking with her gun, running the blade against metal as the gun was dragged along her in the gallop. The sight of the wide open area, filled with empty crates repurposed as boxes and couches, a small, decrepit table-mounted videodrome, and numerous wet stains on the floor began to clear up in the darkness. Some banners put up in high places remained stuck there, and part of the boxes that had been put into disuse were piled up in a corner. There were only two equines in there - the writhing, swearing brown stallion, and a sleek, buzz-cut, snake-eyed, horned changeling that held him by the shoulders, his horn aglow. Both jumped and sharply turned their heads to her as she stampeded into the room, the stallion falling over with a loud scream, immediately bending over to cradle the side of his flank and hind leg. Light smoke came from there still, a weak glow beginning to fire up in his body.

The changeling scowled, lighting up his horn, covering his body in dark green flame. Handsome rolled her eyes and withdrew the gun from firing position, turning the stained, battered blade side toward the synaptic instead.

“I knew this’d end up like this. I knew this’d happen,” he said, his voice echoing and distorted. “I told him to get rid of you. He didn’t do shit. You ponies aren’t that smart, are you?”

"You talk like I don't know shit, roach,” Handsome retorted with a sharp, hiccupy giggle. “It's all because of your insect ass. I wouldn’t be murderfucking my way through all you fucking degenerates if he had some FUCKING INTEGRITY.”

“Bet you still don’t get why your country went to shit, cockhead,” the changeling said sharply before loosening the flames from his body and manifesting with his horn into a blindingly bright green aetherial orb. The ambient trash and items of improvised furniture began to shake, the videodrome stuttered on and off, and the stallion puked.

In the fraction of a moment when the green energy suddenly disappeared from the changeling’s body, Handsome rushed at him, levitating the hilt in front of herself, and impaling the synaptic through the chest. His horn went aglow with energy again, but by then the blade had crushed through his mimicked ribcage, and blood poured out of his mouth. He opened his mouth, but before he could make any sound, his horn turned just as bright once again, and then discharged the energy straight into his head, exploding it outright. The blood that poured out of him had already turned green, bubbling on the floor. Handsome turned to the brown stallion, who was trying to drag himself out of the hidden door to the tracks. She caught up and landed a heavy forehoof on his injured, blackened hind leg.

“THE SHIT ARE YOU DOING?” he shouted, reeling, his voice having been blown at screaming in pain.

“Getting unfucked,” Handsome replied, taking her hoof off of the debilitated hind leg and smacking the stallion on his side with it. His body, covered in dust and greenish synapse, thrashed as the gun was shoved directly onto his snout, absorbing it entirely, only stopping at the far reaches of his face, nearly bending back the clipped ears.

The wide trigger was pushed slowly, whereas the iron tube kept being forced into his head. The pony’s struggle intensified when the weapon released, coughing out fumes and sparks, having ran out of crystalline scrap to shoot. The heat and residual searing particles, however, caused the mare's former boss to emit inequine noises, bashing against the gun until his forehooves cracked and bled. Handsome continued to push the trigger further in, even after there was no more residue to force into the stallion’s face. Smoke and a sharp, ozonous odor seeped through the cracks of free space between the pony’s face and the heating iron. Eventually, the smoke turned into steam, and dark brown droplets began to add to the growing reddish pool underneath his head.

She retrieved her weapon once it had broken through most of his face. Stomping on his still chest for leverage, the mare brought her horn to fizzling point in getting the weapon unstuck. As soon as it levitated in the air, a mess of flesh and gore dripped from the barrel.

“...” Handsome stood in place and breathed heavily, puffing air loudly through the mask, sucking parts of it in. She turned to the headless, liquefying corpse of the synaptic and gave it a light kick. “What, you wanted that to be me? Yeah, I know how you do. You bugs are all the same. I know you through and fucking through. Fuck off, asshole,” she muttered at the space where his head would have been.

Stepping slowly, swiveling a little as she went, the mare made her way back to the generator room. She chuckled, giving off an echo that spread through the chamber she had rampaged through. She stopped to lean against one of the coolers for a second, shaking her head. Her eyes had dilated, darting between all the bodies and dismembered bodyparts littering the room. Handsome growled, having ended up standing in a puddle of liquified drone.

She moved on, stepping through a trail of blood, wiping her hooves there, mixing green with red. Stopping by the unmoving body of the stallion whose leg she nearly amputated, the mare gave it a kick. After squinting and tilting her head, she brought a hind leg on his head, squashing it against the floor. She shrugged, mumbling to herself, turning to chuckles while stumbling through the narrow corridor to the first maintenance area.

Handsome cleared her throat, dropping the gun on the floor. With a grunt, she bent down and grabbed it with her forehooves, hoisting it on her back, her horn going dark. She trudged through the door, the illusion of solid concrete having faded. Occasionally stopping to stabilize the gun on her back, the mare trudged along the rails toward the station. Slowly turning her head left and right, she eventually stumbled back into the weapons stash. She emerged with the gun still on her back, now fastened with a belt, and the massive, spiked bludgeon being levitated in front of her instead. She gave it a pat, twirling the spike, iron, knife and needle-stuffed piece of wood in the air, occasionally stumbling whenever her horn fizzled for a moment under the weight.

The echoing beeping of a train departing from a nearby station sounded through the tunnels. The mare coughed, her cough turning into a chuckle, which then blew up into a raspy laughing fit. She fell over, banging her masked face in the metal ties between the rails. Her bludgeon dropped down, clanging against the conductor rails, casting a few sparks from contact with the current.

The unicorn began to hit the ground with her forehooves, roaring with laughter. She had descended into another coughing fit by when the sounds of an oncoming train got closer. Spitting into her mask, she breathed deeply, grasping her temples. Handsome squinted at the station ahead of her.

She chuckled again, gulping, and got up, lighting her horn up enough to drag the customized club behind her, the scant portion of plain wood facing forward while all the sharp extremities scraped against the floor. There was a humongous bovine standing on the empty station with his arms crossed. He glared at her. As she moved toward the station, he stretched out a trunk-like arm and beckoned her over. In so doing, he made visible a hawk griffon, criss-crossed with leathery bandoilers, goggles resting on her forehead, squatting on the floor, beak buried in her gloved talons.

“Hey, you,” he spoke up, pointing at Handsome in her battered, bloodied uniform and stained, dimpled mask. “Tell me ‘bout yourself.”

The unicorn made her way closer to the station, her eyes glued to the massive minotaur. He was roughly the size of the generator pillar from the maintenance tunnels. His fists were adorned with large rings, each reading a letter. The eight rings formed the words “ROAD RAGE”, with a wide spike coming out of each letter. His dark green vest was covered in pins and slips, and the spiked mohawk ended in slabs of shining metal. He eyed her down as she struggled with the mask, peeling it back to reveal her sweaty, grinning face.

“I’m Handsome,” she explained, air hissing as it went through her clung-together teeth. “I work for you.”

“You’re Handsome,” the bull repeated, shutting his eyes for a moment and nodding. “Got that. I’ll piss your name on your grave.”

“Hah, no."

While the bull glared at her, she lit up her horn with a burst of bright green magic, and thrust the club ahead, twirling it as it went. After the initial thrust, the cackling unicorn left it to inertia. The large bull was already stomping towards her, his spiked knuckles centimeters away from her head, but the club had hit him. The last of the mare’s magic had pushed it toward him at an angle - his next step brought him straight into the lower row of the club’s spikes, the rest slotting into his bulky body afterward. Handsome had hopped backwards, clinging on to her mask, leaving him to groan and stumble off the station and onto the tracks. The bull threatened to remain stable, but fell over with a loud thud and a growl when the griffon shot from her seat and torpedoed onto his side, tumbling him onto the electrified rails.

His hands clung to the club, having gotten impaled by the sharp objects, and struggled to pull it out of his ravaged body. By when both Handsome and the griffon made it to his body, he had succeeded, the club now laying in one of his arms, still attached to it by multiple sharpened irons that had pierced the palm. The bull’s body continued to twitch and his mouth foamed.

“Hey, Goldbeak,” the mare said, smiling. The griffon sat on the edge of the station, having propped her beak with one hand.

“You got any idea what you’ve done? Fuck me,” the avian replied. “Go, get your damn toy before the train passes.” She pointed at the club, which Handsome was halfway through detaching from the minotaur’s impaled hand. “And tear off that pin, right there.”

“Don’t bust my balls,” the mare replied, grunting with effort, the club now in her telekinetic grip with a chunk of minotaur flesh still attached to it. “You need it, you go get it.”

“You got a horn, and he’s all… Fuck it, nevermind, I don't need it that badly,” Goldbeak said, scowling and getting off the edge of the platform. “Come on, train’s about to come. We gotta talk.”

She passed a hand to the unicorn, who threw her weapons onto the platform and was making her way over, huffing and coughing while climbing. Several seconds after she'd climbed over, the train sped by, with a noticeable bump in its passing, and an acute smell of burned flesh on the air.

“So… lemme guess, you're my new boss?” Handsome asked, yawning, picking up her weapons from the floor.

“Dude, you have no fucking idea of the sort of shit you’re in now. This,” Goldbeak pointed at the steaming, squashed, sliced remains of Road Rage. “This shit wasn’t meant to happen. Definitely not today. This is all wrong, this is not the time, this is not the plan, dammit! You haven’t got a clue what the shit is going on.”

“Try me,” the mare offered, sitting down on a bench and unbuttoning part of the bloodstained uniform, breathing heavily as sweat rolled off her snout.

“Bitch, you… Okay, for starters: why the fuck is this YOU?” the griffon asked, speaking slowly, looking the mare directly in the eyes, having gotten on her hind paws. “Where is Skate? How much DO you know?”

“Feels like more than what you give me credit for,” Handsome shrugged. "Not that I give a shit."

“I’m fucking sure. Oh, this is a mess…” the griffon’s eyes darted as she ran her talons through her pinkish overcast bang. She reached into her pocket and jolted slightly, retrieving a hand still empty. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

The unicorn jumped in her seat as the sound of popping thunder came from just up the standstill escalators, raising her club with a weak green light.

“Wha?..”

“Hello… Goldbeak,” a croaky, accented voice came from up the steps. “Hello, Ska— Oh.” The figure it belonged to, a crooked, trenchcoat-wearing avian leaning on a tall cane, stood motionless for a moment, blinking with one glowing eye. “I see.” He struck his cane against the step he was at, and reappeared, with the same pop, in a dissipating puff of stormy cumulus next to Goldbeak. Handsome jumped yet again, mouthing to herself as she looked at the old albatross, half of his face obscured by plumage.

Him and the mare looked at each other while Goldbeak leaned against a column, her arms crossed.

“Uh… Hundred thousand,” Handsome said.

“...?...” The old griffon opened his beak, took a pause, and closed it.

“I’ve clearly seen something real fucking serious. From what I gather, you’re paying fuckwads to kill other fuckwads. Dunno why, don’t care either,” the mare explained, a twitching smile forming on her face. “Whatever just happened didn’t go to your plan. You musta thought that pink loser was going to get this,” she switched abruptly to a softer tone, lifting the empty-eyed vulture’s mask in her hooves. “Now you are going to off me because you don’t wanna get caught. Or, how about you pay me in good old Equestrian bits and I work for you. It's gonna work.”

There was another silent pause. The albatross raised an eyebrow, scratching at his time-battered beak with a claw. He shifted in place, making a light thudding noise. His left leg was made of wood, carved finely and incrusted with silver.

“Really now… How poignant. Um, ‘Goldbeak’,” he called the hawk out. “Would you say this individual is reliable? In a sense.”

“He’s fucked in the head. Sure am glad we holed up down here. If this were any more public...”

“Do you think we’re at risk of an intelligence leak if we agree?” the albatross asked another question, albeit looking at Handsome instead. One of his eyes went aglow again, with pure white light, and he raised the hand he wasn’t using to hold himself upright with the cane. Lighting crackled between his talons. “This is your subordinate, I understand.”

“This is what was going to get the actual vulture pony fucking killed,” Goldbeak replied with a frown, pointing a talon at Handsome. “THIS is why I insisted we wait with this place. You can’t just go in like this. You gotta make it big and dirty. But now, like...”

“I can see your reasoning…” the old griffon muttered, leaning to the side for a glimpse of the remains of Road Rage. “So, is your friend reliable?”

“Utterly headfucked. Even I don’t know. He’s not my friend, either. He’s a straitjacket loony dweeb. I'm not even sure if he's a he.”

“Look, mister Geezer…” Handsome raised her hooves, sighing. “You give me the money, and I’ll go wherever you want, so long as I can squash some fucking bugs. I've been... waiting for this.”

“What about your compatriots? I presume they’re also—”

“Oh, I destroyed those assholes. There’s not a single one left. I don’t care, I joined the Snakes so I could hide from pigs and crush bugs.” Her eyes began to widen. “I don’t care about anyone. I'll be doing this no matter what, but if you're gonna pay me for it, and give me roaches to kill?.. I can blow you if you want.” She erupted into another toothy grin, showing off the mostly artificial teeth.

Her and the albatross stared each other in the eyes intently, both occasionally tilting their heads. She never dropped her grin, whereas he let go of the arcane glow. Finally, it was the avian who let out a laugh.

“Very well then! So long as you promise to be slightly more… discrete. We can make this work. You have to realize you’re an exception from the rule,” he said with a smile. “You should be dead. Your set of talents, however… They’re welcome. But you don’t want to blow the lid on what is going on too early, wouldn’t you agree? We don’t want people to start lionizing their liberators just yet… hold back a little. And speaking of holding back, mister— may I have your name?”

“Handsome,” Goldbeak muttered, leaving Handsome to nod.

“Close enough. What I would like you to do is not to create too much of a mess until it’s ‘go time’, so to say. But once it is, then, by all means… Don’t leave anyone alive. Be quick. Be efficient. Speak with your actions.”

“Uh… Right, get me out of here to somewhere safe. I haven’t got anything to change into.” Handsome scratched at the back of her head with a bloodied hoof. “I need to stash my toys away, too. And the bike, I’m not giving it back to that loser, port it over too! I fucking earned it. And the money, I want to see the money. So, like. You’re a… wizard, do something.”

The griffon laughed once again. Goldbeak had dropped on all fours, an odorous smokestick in her beak, and hopped down, disappearing into the tunnel where the massacre took place. The mare arched her back and got on her hooves, grabbing her weapons and the mask. She looked at the old albatross.

“The exact term is ‘Storm’.”

“Do I look like a give a shit? Get me out of here, give me my money, I’ll phase the fuck out on some good shit, and I’ll make the world a better place,” the pony said with a scowl. “Drop me and the ride by the apartments at Sun Hearth. Any funny business, I’ll find you and shove your fake leg down your throat.”

He cracked his cane against the floor, his eye filling with plain white light. Sharp air accumulated around the mare, wrapping the weapons and the mask into separate cradles of dark cloudy matter.

“Goldbeak will check if you did what you said you did. Personally, I can see you leave us little reason for doubt,” he spoke in a slow, deep, overly enunciating voice, keeping eye contact with the mare through his luminant, now-blank eyes. “Today you will get seventy five out of your hundred, and I suggest you stay on your guard the next few hours to make sure no one appropriates the shipment. After that, in one week, at two in the afternoon, go to Mustang Sally at Starling Avenue. There you will receive the remaining cash, as well as your next assignment.”

“That was NOT what I—”

“You can take seventy five thousand and a free trip home,” the griffon replied with a grin, white light shining from his throat. “Or I could vaporize you.”

"If you’re fucking with me…” Handsome growled, jerking in place as small bolts of lightning struck the floor near her.

“I am not. And since I am not, one piece of advice…“ The mess of scars on the other side of his face lighting up in the flash of teleportation. “Try not to vaporize yourself with whatever you plan to procure with the money. That would be an abrupt end to your story.”

May 29th, 1013 AN

Equestrian Transit

“You felt it from the start?”

“I did, yeah. Right then and there. It woke up in me. I tried to keep it down… But I knew I couldn’t. It was funny to me then.”

“What… did it feel like?”

Handsome drooped her head into her cupped hooves, having it thud against the polished table. Her budding locks of hair bounced with the compartment's vibrations. The shadows of the trees passing by the window danced on her bandage-covered face. The carriage took a heavy shake and continued by smoothly, past the whistling wind.

“It’s not, like, one single thing, shit… You ever felt alive?”

“Well, technically, uh…”

“I was alive that day. The sounds… the smells… the feeling… the rush… You never want it to stop once it takes over. Your body doesn’t matter, your brain doesn’t matter, nothing matters. It doesn't matter what you're made of, who you're a part of. There's no 'you', no individual, no 'you', no unity. In that moment, you’re just perfect. Everything is perfect.”

Handsome took a sip from her glass of water, turning her head to watch the faraway hills and trees pass by, a large lake catching those sun rays that made it through the thick cover of clouds. She fell back on the bunk, lowering her head on the cushion. Her eyes grazed the compartment slowly, eventually closing as the crystalline decorations and sparkling ornaments began to glitter in the dark of a tunnel. Her hooves shifted to her temples as the lightworks jingled and jangled. The unicorn's mane squeaked against the smooth texture of the wall that her head bumped against.

“You don’t think it’s what you took?’

“No. That was nothing. I saw… things, after I went there. But that was bullshit. This was different. I had a purpose. I needed to be there. It had to be this way.”

“Well… maybe it’s your calling? You know what I mean.”

The unicorn rolled over, staring, and frowning. Her companion was left in the dark by the sun.

“No, it isn’t,” she said quietly, her eyelids with trembling, fledling eyelashes closing down on her green eyes. “But it felt like it was. I murdered half of my entire gang that day. It started feeling right.”

“Which kind of right?”

“The kind where you realize that you were meant to exist. The kind where you know this was meant to happen. The kind where you know this is something to live for. When you get out of the loop and find something that's finally giving you some damn satisfaction. I found myself. And those others, I guess they did, too. Not wandering around aimlessly anymore.”

“In any case… we’re here now. The sun is high.”

“And better off for it.”

April 2nd, 1013 AN - 11:40 PM

Carol City, Equestria

14th Sun Hearth

Handsome trudged down the corridor of the run-down apartment block. Occasional creaking sounds and voices coming from the apartments made her jerk, lifting up the club she kept in front of herself. The mare left wet hoofprints behind, being soaked in water through and through, thus lacking most of the signs of fighting. Stopping next to an apartment, she leaned against the door with a hoof, and hacked at the ground for a couple of moments, breathing through her nose. As a weak stream of water and stomach acid streaked from her mouth, the door of the apartment opened.

“Ugh… hello, Handsome. I’m not going to ask,” a pale grey unicorn mare mumbled. Her with turqouise hair sat in a slightly disheveled bun on top of her head, and the glasses sitting at the edge of her snout were kept together by duct tape. “Come in, there’s pizza in the coldbox.”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m alright. I’ll handle myself,” Handsome slurred, picking her weapons up from the ground and stepping into the apartment. “Where you going?.”

“Um… Talking to some people… y’know,” the unicorn said slowly, biting her lip, her eyes darting here and there. “Getting in our boss’ good graces, making deals.”

“Bull’s dead. Never liked him,” the soaked mare babbled, yawning, nearly walking into a wardrobe. “Talk to Goldbeak, she’s in charge now.”

“What the— Wait, how—”

“I’m drinking the last of our booze,” Handsome stated, turning her head back to glare at the other mare. “Also, I'm not leaving. Just try to kick me out.”

“I— but, wait, wait! Okay, just don't break anything, I'm already in debt! That bar isn't a gold mine, you kn—”

“Hah, heh, ahh, yeah... Alright, Page, I may give you a bit of a surprise,” She bucked the door closed with a hind hoof and belched quietly, coughing. “If I stay awake.”

“Handsome, I’d really rather not have any sur… I’ll just go now.”

“Good idea.”

Handsome grunted, carrying herself to the bedroom of the three-room apartment. With a hiss, she dropped the spiked club down on the floor, and threw the gun off her back, tossing the belt off into the corner. She spent the next several minutes dragging the weapons under the wide bed, grunting as the club nearly took multiple floorboards with it.

“This is gonna need some work,” the mare said to herself, yawning loudly.

Some more time was spent getting rid of the soaked wet uniform, which she threw in the rough direction of the wardrobe in the hallway. Having arched her back, the parts of her coat that weren’t overtaken by scar tissue ruffled and wet, she got herself to the kitchen, opposite of the bedroom. Her eyes grazed over the small bits of unfinished greenery on the table. Handsome sighed, grabbing a partly full glass of liquid and gulping it down. She let out a laugh, shaking her head from the salted whiskey.

The mare pulled the icebox’ door open, gazing at the shelves. Her mouth ceased to close, and a string of drool hung off her scarred lower lip. Hiccuping, she shoved a hoof deep into the freezer, emerging with a brownish object in a plastic bag. Handsome shut the door by slamming into it, causing the whole machine to shake and hum. Having put the object on the kitchen table, she snuck her muscled body through the tight space between the couch and the table

With sluggish, unsteady hooves, she unpacked the bag and bit into a piece of fried meat. She chewed slowly, her eyelids fluttering and eventually closing.

“Yeah, that’s right… That’s how we do,” she mumbled to herself, her mouth full of meat that her artificial teeth tore into. “Shit’s different now.”

Handsome leaned back, slipping halfway down, and banged her head loudly on the table, throwing most of the dishes straight onto the floor. With a tiny sprinkle of blood and freshly woken eyes, eyelids fluttering, the mare burped quietly, staring at the clock on the wall.

“The fuck am I even going to buy?” She rubbed the back of her head, staining her hoof with blood once more that day. “Hey, Page— Ah, right, fuck.”

The mare gave a raspy chuckle as her cut up tongue licked at her own blood.

“I could try something flashy this time.”