It took longer than I thought to get to get used to Punch Light's body. His mannerisms weren't so much of a problem, as I would say this was one of the easiest disguises I've ever pulled off. He practically gift wrapped them for me with his arrogance. No, it was more to do with just how heavy Punch was, compared to the forms I had been wearing for the past several months. The proportion of his wide girth compared to his stubby limbs resulted in a few trips and awkward steps before I could settle into a comfortable walking pattern. For the first quarter of an hour or so, I had to use my magic to assist in getting around, but soon after I managed to keep myself stable without much effort.

Punch Light did not carry many personal belongings on him, but I only needed one item from him anyway. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, I pulled out a business card. It advertised one specific diner, “The One Horn Grill”. Upon reflection, it really wasn't surprising that the name of his favourite restaurant was rather generic. Considering the diversity of eating establishments that sprang up overnight here in Canterlot, some places would have a way to go yet when it came to establishing their own identity. More importantly, it was a perfectly unassuming place for a hideout. If anything, I would have been more surprised if they had made the location of their headquarters blatantly obvious with neon signs reading “Evil Lair”. The back of the card listed a short series of numbers, each proceeded by a hash to discern them as separate from one another – an important detail to remember.

It was only a short walk between the Tasty Treat and the One Horn Grill, a couple of minutes away at most. No wonder why Punch always came to my workplace first, as even the laziest of mobsters could make a show at a place like that. The diner itself was designed in a much more clean and minimal style, almost the complete opposite to the exotic decorations of the Tasty Treat. Chequered floor tiles, white walls, red leather seats, the works. Even if the décor didn't stand out in any meaningful manner, business was booming regardless as the queue leading up the counter very nearly stretched the entire length of the place. Upon entering, I did get a few glances thrown my way from the customers, but none of them reacted to my presence beyond that. Good. The longer I can remain just another pony, waiting his turn to grab some late lunch, everything was going according to plan. One stand out feature I noticed among this crowd compared to other restaurants in Canterlot was that most ponies ordered their food using the numbers listed in the menu, as opposed to the correlating food names. Double checking the back of my card, I found that each of these numbers corresponded with several listed meal codes. When it was finally my turn to order, a brown-and-white earth pony waiter greeted me with a bright smile.

“Welcome back, Mr. Punch Light, sir. What can I get for you today?” he asked.

“Good to see ya too, pal,” I replied. It was such a relief that he recognised my form, as it meant I didn't have to risk using changeling magic. “I'll be takin' the numbah twenty five, thirty four and eighty six ta go, if ya please.”

A startled look overcame the waiter's face for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. Leaning over to an adjacent waitress, he whispered something in her ear about “taking care of business”, before turning back to me.

“Right this way, sir.”

If the waiter hadn't still been looking directly at me, I would have swiped a hoof across my head in relief. “Yeah yeah, let's just make this snappy,” I said, following the waiter towards the stock room in the back. “Don't wanna be keepin' da boss waitin' now, do we?”

“Of course not, sir,” He replied, attempting to hide the nervousness in his voice. After a quick glance around the room to ensure that nopony else was looking, the waiter trotted over to a pile of wooden crates, tapping them in a rhythmic code. As the fake crates folded away, they revealed a stairway that lead down to a rather fancy looking lobby, much more extravagant than anything else within the building. The immediate room was small, no longer than two ponies long and three ponies wide, though the general lack of furniture beyond a small sofa and a marehogany door gave it the illusion of being bigger.

“After you sir,” the waiter said, extending his hoof.

Though there was nothing immediately obvious about either the waiter or the lobby that looked like it could contain hidden dangers, I still took my time walking down the stairs.

“Would you like some tea while you wait to see the boss, good sir?” The waiter asked once I was seated. I simply waved my hoof in response.

“No thanks pal. Just let the boss know I'm here.”

“Yes sir, right away,” the waiter said, bowing as he slipped behind the door. The second that he left, I let out an irritated cough that I had been holding in for hours. I have no idea how Punch Light managed to keep up such a ridiculous accent, considering how poorly his vocal chords are suited to producing it. It didn't take long for the waiter to return, followed closely behind by a magenta-coated Pegasus mare. She had her curly blue hair held up into a bun with two long hair pins, and a lanky frame initially made her look less threatening than I expected her to be. It was her cutie mark—a white skull with needles in place of crossbones—that spoke volumes about her combat prowess. I knew I would have to keep a close eye on her if she needed to be eliminated.

“About freaking time you showed up!” The mare snapped with an accent that was posh even by Canterlot standards. By the scowl on her face, I could tell she was not exactly pleased to see me. “You were supposed to show up half an hour ago!”

Less than five second into infiltrating the black quill gang, and already I was making enemies. That had to be a new record for me. It seems Punch's laziness was coming back to bight me in the flank. “Don't sweat it doll,” I said with a huff, rolling my eyes. “What I go for da boss will more than make up for it. I tell ya, he's gonna wanna hear what I've noticed about some of the restaurants I paid a visit to today!”

The Pegasus mare planted her hoof in her face and groaned. “Just get to the bosses office and get this over with. Consider yourself lucky Hefty Hoof assigned me as your supervisor. ”

“Yeah yeah, I get ya,” I replied nonchalantly, before trotting past her with my head held high. In some respects, it was a relief that I wasn't the only one who found Punch Light to be a rather irritating individual. As annoying as it was for everypony, including myself, it is just another aspect of life as a changeling that I had to get used to. I looked forward to when I could finally tone down Punch's arrogance, but for the moment, keeping my character consistent was of the highest priority.

“Will that be all, Miss Needle Point?” the waiter asked, trying to hold his shaking hooves steady.

“Yes yes, feel free to toddle off and go back to whatever it is you do.”

The door slammed behind us, with the waiter galloping back up the stairs as fast as his hooves could carry him. Needle hadn't even said anything particularly vicious, and yet already she was shooting terror into the hears of innocent ponies!

The hall way ahead was noticeably more lavish than the waiting room. Various statues and ornaments from the four corners of Equestria and beyond lined each side, but it was the selection of paintings in particular that caught my eye – as all of them depicted the same Crystal Pony stallion with exaggerated front hooves, standing on various heroic poses. The artists must have spent an exceptional amount of time getting those...things in proportion with the rest of the stallion's body. Now that I knew the boss's name, it didn't take a genius to figure out who the pony depicted in these paintings was supposed to be.

I slowed down to allow Needle time to catch up. “So, toots, how are things developing in your neck of the woods?”

Needle let out a huff. “What do you care?” she said. “You seem so proud of your success already. At this rate I'll be rid of you in no time.”

“Aw, don't be like that babydoll, how am I s'posed ta learn all the tricks of the trade if my own mentor won't tell me about the crazy skills she's been usin' ta get her work done?”

Needle shot me me a furious glare. It seemed as though I had made a rather poor choice of words, even by Punch Light standards. “First of all, don't ever call me that again or I will personally have your eyeballs shoved so far up your rear-end, you'll be getting the best view of your own large intestines anypony will have seen in over a century!” In spite of her display of anger, flared wings and hoof shakes included, I could tell she was holding back. If her cutie mark was anything to go by, Needle was a mare who didn't waste any time in killing those who got on her nerves. The fact that my neck remained unbroken was a testament to how much self-restraint she had. For now, as long as she kept talking, I was safe. “Second, if you keep running your mouth off like that, you'll end up blabbing to the kind of ponies who won't hesitate to shut you up. You want my advice? Pay some bucking attention to who you're talking to. Do I make myself clear?”

I gulped, grinning nervously as if I was trying to hide my fear of Needle. With how she kept her whole body taut, trying to launch an attack behind her back like I had with Punch Light would undoubtedly be suicidal. This one, I hoped, would be quite a glorious challenge to kill! “Y-yes ma'am,” I stuttered, a few drops of sweat rolling down my head. Sweating on command is actually easier than many ponies give it credit for. All you have to do is stiffen up, keep your eyes open and know which muscles to stretch in order to raise your body temperature, much like forcing yourself to cry.

Before I even had a chance to blink, Needle jabbed her hoof at me, stopping less than an inch away from my face, licking her lips as she locked eyes with me with. She was enjoying the fear.

“Good, I'm glad you see things my way,” she said in a self congratulatory manner. “The boss will see you now.”

Flicking her hoof away from my face, she gestured to a large set of golden double doors, both of them featuring a striking insignia of a white hoof and a black quill smashing into the earth.

I'll be honest, when I first laid eyes upon the boss's office, it was a lot less elaborate than I had expected, given the ego this guy must have to commission so many portraits of himself. Now that I look back on everything, the mood of Hefty Hoof's office had a clear, yet understated aura of authority. The deep violet walls contrasting with black leather chairs, all lit by a single lamp on the mahogany desk. No paintings, no ornaments, just a lamp, a wall clock, and a large stallion sitting at his desk, impatiently tapping his hooves as I walk in. You would be forgiven for thinking, as I did, that the size of Hefty's hooves was exaggerated for effect. That was not the case. The boss of this gang really did live up to his name, being almost twice the size of a regular pony, with even the lightest tap on the table making an audible “clunk”.

His ivory white coat and gelled back mane glimmered with a reflective sheen, bouncing back even the smallest amount of light emitting from the lamp. Seeing a Crystal Pony in the position of a crime boss is the last thing many would expect encounter. But for changelings, an open mind is the most essential trait one could have. I've seen Griffins, Diamond Dogs, even dragons commanding ponies to do their bidding, all the while hiding behind the facade of a genuine day-to-day business. Even though every single Crystal Pony I had ever met up until that point has been nothing but kind, welcoming, and honest, I knew by now that not letting go of all preconceived notions would only hinder my task of learning the key traits of my targets. With a pony like this, it simply meant that I would have to be a little more careful when the time came to end the life of the big boss.

Hefty leaned forward, staring at me with an unreadable expression. He did not appear to be angry, but I would not exactly describe him as pleased either. His mouth neither rose nor fell, not even blinking as he swept his eyes up and down my body. Putting his hooves together, elbows leaning on the table, all three of us sat in silence. I took a brief glance at the clock to see how long we had spent without beginning the conversation, yet I found myself unable to look away from Hefty's eyes for more than a couple seconds at a time.

“So,” he finally said in a well-spoken voice. “Would I be correct in my assumption that you have a good reason for your delay?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. It was if my vocal chords had been somehow frozen in place, preventing me from making any sounds. The rest of my body didn't fare much better, as if I had been chained to the chair with an invisible force.

“You may speak,” Hefty said.

With a swipe of his hoof, I was free from my paralysis, the words spilling out from my mouth like a bursting dam. “You bet I do, sir! And boy oh boy, do I ever have some tasty information for ya today.”

“Really now?” Hefty said, leaning back in his chair. He took one glance at Needle, who had been gritting her teeth the whole time, yet she still keeping her hooves held tightly across her chest, holding herself back from lashing out at me.

I grinned. At least I had Hefty's undivided attention for the moment. “I gotta tell ya boss, some of these here restaurant owners? They ain't all they're cracked up ta be! That little lady at the Tasty Treat tried ta act tough, thinkin' she could boss me around. Ha! The moment I laid eyes upon her daddy, she collapsed to her knees and begged me to protect her. I got a lovely sack o' bits for my troubles,” I took out the bag of gold from my pocket, shaking it lightly in my hoof to make the coins inside jingle. “So even though it took longer than I thought it would, I knew my persistence would make 'em crack eventually.”

Hefty Hoof slowly reached over and took the gold pouch from my hoof. Pulling open the top, he poured out the bits onto his desk, separating each one to evaluate if it was worth as much as I was implying.

“Fifty bits, paid in full. Called it insurance, I did! Made sure ta tell those suckers at the Tasty Treat that they won't runnin' into any...” I paused for a second to think of the most dramatic way to express the ruse. “Complications with their business, shall we say. Man, I wish you coulda been there ta see their faces! It was priceless I tells ya.”

Hefty pushed the coins back into the bag and gave a simple nod. “Well, I certainly do admire your enthusiasm. Credit where credit is due, you are already proving yourself effective using intimidation tactics.”

“No sweat boss. I can get even more money for ya next ti- “

“However,” Hefty continued, cutting me off. “While your efforts are indeed admirable, your methods are still exceptionally sloppy. Your lack of punctuality and your tendency to run your mouth can potentially give away vital secrets. That leaves loose ends. Miss Needle, could you show Mr Punch here how we deal with loose ends?”

I didn't even have a chance to react before Needle tackled me to the ground, hoof wrapped around my neck and jabbing one of the long hair pins into my side. The force of it knocked the wind out of me, but if that wasn't bad enough, I also found myself unable to inhale, my lungs paralysed from the nerve which Needle struck. If Hefty didn't want me dead, he absolutely would if I couldn't maintain this disguise. I had to find a way of breaking free from this hold, and fast. Though I ran the risk rousing suspicion, it was still a far better option than dying there and then. Tilting my head back as far as it would go, I summoned as much magic as I could muster, directing the ensuing eruption of arcane power directly into Needle's face.

Needle snapped her wings forward, aiming for my eyes in an effort to interrupt my casting. Too late. The force of the magical blast catapulted Needle across the room, sending her crashing into the doors with an almighty crack. With my throat released, several spluttering coughs burst out as I gasped for air, hoping to Celestia that my changeling magic had resisted the assault. I could see Needle recovering with ease, looking more enraged than ever, with her wings fully spread in preparation to launch her second attack.

“CEASE!”

Hefty Hoof's bellowing voice echoed throughout the room, freezing us both in place at his command. Standing up from his chair, he began clapping his hooves together in applause.

“Bravo!” He cheered. “An excellent show of force! I must say, Punch Light, you have exceeded my expectations when it comes to your magical prowess. There's hope for you in this organisation yet! Needle, would you kindly show this gentlecolt the way to the dojo? I think we're on to a winner here.”

Rubbing her head upon release, needle replied with a reluctant nod, gritting her teeth as she slid her hair pins back into place. “Get moving, newbie,” she said to me. “And try to keep up. You'd do well not to waste any more of the boss's time.”

Once I could properly breath again, I hastily nodded and trotted after the Pegasus enforcer. In spite of these scary setbacks, for now, everything was going according to plan.

Author's Note

The next part will take longer to release, as I already had the first draft of part 2 written when I published part 1.