Jacked Up

by DirtyBlue929

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Tragedy, Dark, Human, Romance
Length: 17434

Equestria gets another set of visitors in the form of two petty criminals turned changelings.

[Yet another part of the Chess Game of the Gods.]

Rated T for swearing, death, and drug abuse. Credit for cover image goes to Skykain

Denise Hartman's life is jacked up.

Just out of a two-year stint in prison, she's heartbroken, penniless, and addicted to morphine. Severing her ties with her old friends and enemies, she relocates to Buffalo, New York, making fast friends with Conrad Davidson, her British-American roommate. The two keep themselves financially afloat through odd jobs (and occasional marijuana dealing), but they don't exactly have it made. So, when a soft-spoken stranger comes to them offering a fulfilling job in an exotic locale, how could they refuse?

Of course, neither of them are the type to read the fine print- and now their whole world is about to turn upside down.

(A/N- Not my first bit of serious writing, but my first story set in the FiM universe. Character tags will be added as I go. Romance will come into play later, OCxOC.)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-18 21:56:33 UTC

Prologue: Starting Over, Looking Back

Denise Hartman is...

JACKED UP

-{Prologue}-

~~~~~

Thursday, August 21st, 2012

Newark, New Jersey

Clinton Ave. Rentals, Apt. 203

On a cold autumn night, Denise Hartman sat down on the fold-out couch in her apartment.  Her long, dark hair was lazily tied in a ponytail, and she wore only a pair of torn blue jeans and a white tank-top, neither of which seemed to have been washed recently.  In one hand she held a pencil, in the other, several sheets of paper.

She sighed, looking over her pathetic lodgings.  They might have looked presentable once, but they had been abandoned for a little over two years, and the current occupant had been somewhat neglectful since her return.

Shaking her head and steeling her resolve, she set her papers down on the coffee table in front of her, and began to write.

"Dear Troy,"

The image of her old acquaintance flashed in her mind, a middle-aged African-American with a smoothly shaved head, wearing a sharp grey business suit- a gun and a badge hidden underneath.  Trey wasn't exactly a friend, but he was undeniably a good man, if a bit underhanded in how he handled his work.

"I finally got out; don't know if you've heard.  Went right back to Rico and the guys- rehabilitation at it's finest, huh?"

Rico.  Her oldest friend.  A sleazy hispanic street thug on the outside, and a business genius on the inside.  Between the two of them, they had made the best of a bad upbringing, building up a small criminal operation in their neighborhood.  Rico was one of those bad guys who had enough sensibility and morals to be considered a good guy- he did his best to keep drugs out of the area, and was trying to get a legitimate job.

"I'm settling back into things as best I can.  Nothing's gonna be the same again, but we can pretend, I guess."

All good things come to an end, though.  They made their share of mistakes, and they paid the price for it. Rico lost a lot of his business, and Denise...

"I don't plan on staying in Jersey much longer, actually.  I think I need a change of scenery.  Though I suppose anything is change of scenery after you spend two years inside, ha ha. (Yeah, that was a fake laugh, you prick.)"

Denise was shipped off to prison on some minor charges.  Still, it could have been worse.  Troy had gotten rid of a good deal of the heat their operation had been under.  If it wasn't for him, they'd both have been looking at 25-to-life.  Unfortunately, those two years weren't the only thing Denise had lost.

"And yeah, I know what you're gonna ask, and the answer's the same.  I'm fine.  I've moved on.  Nothing's gonna bring him back, so there's no point in dwelling on it."

She was lying through her teeth.  Death was never easy to deal with- what she had been through was even harder.

… but no.  She'd face those demons soon enough.

"So I guess this is goodbye.  Good luck with your government bullshit.  It's been fun.

Well, not fun, but you know what I mean.

- Denise"

Wordlessly, she folded the paper and placed it inside an envelope, sealing it with a quick (and disgusting) lick. Denise set it aside, reaching for the next piece of paper...

"Dear Vlad,"

The words formed in her mind, but refused to come to the paper.

"I... I don't really know why I'm writing this.  Maybe I need to vent.  Maybe I've just snapped."

She got this far before tossing the paper aside.  She knew what she was going to say.  There was no point in writing it down.

"It just... Feels good.  To be able to talk like this.  Like you're still here.  It helps, if only a little."

She wandered to the bathroom, opening the medical cabinet. It contained what one would expect from a medical cabinet, over-the-counter medicine, bandages, cotton swabs.

Really, the only unusual thing about the cabinet was the shelf dedicated entirely to morphine syringes.

"I've never gotten over you.  Sure, I tell everyone else I have, but deep down, it's just another lie to make me feel better about myself."

Denise carefully took a syringe and band from her stash, taking a seat on the toilet.

"I...  I never got to tell you, but I worked something out with Rico just before you popped the question."

She tied the band around her left arm, as tightly as possible.

"Before... What happened."

She gripped the syringe in her free hand,and plunged it into her vein with practiced precision.

Sweet relief...

"I wanted us to get out of the game.  I was gonna take my share of the business, go legit, buy a house...  the American dream and all.  And I wanted to do it with you... Guess now I'll never get that chance."

For a moment, she almost wanted to take more.  Pump herself so full of poison that she would never have to see tomorrow.

"... I love you Vlad.  No matter what, I'll always love you."

But no.  She wasn't that far off the deep end.

"I just wish you were here to say it, too..."

Not yet...

~~~

Sunday, May 20th, 1004 ANM

Manehattan, Equestria

MHPD Headquarters

"You clowns better pray you still have your jobs after this is all over."

The uniformed stallions shot simultaneous frowns towards the changeling making threats. It remained firmly chained to the interrogation table, but seemed more annoyed by this than angry.

The creature's black carapace was smooth, with its natural holes hidden behind a veil of shapeshifting magic. Its fibrous hair looked as though it had once been done up neatly, but was now a scrambled, tangled mess, the natural maroon streaks mixed with long-dried blood. Strangely, the creature made no effort to cover up the ghastly scar over the right side of its face, though the bloody bandage over its eye covered a good deal of the damage.

"Why?" the first officer sarcastically replied, a large grey-blue earth pony with a mean-looking goatee, "You plan on replacing the Cheif?"

The changeling let out a short, sarcastic guffaw. "I wouldn't waste the effort.  I'm already acquainted with him."

"Oh, so you replaced his wife, then?" snarled the stallion.

"Please," she said with a chuckle, "I said I'm acquainted with him, not his superiors."

The second officer, a younger-looking unicorn colt with a sandy-brown coat, struggled to suppress a slight grin.

"Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead looking like that mare."

His resolved failed at this comment, letting loose a quick giggle, earning a dirty look from his partner.

"Look, bugsy," growled the Goatee'd Stallion, "If it were up to me you'd already be in a cell.  The only reason you're still here is because somepony decided you might be useful to us if you talked. So talk."

"About what? Far as I can tell, there's no reason for me to even be here."

"Ma'am," the Kid offered, speaking up for the first time, "You were found unconscious at the scene of a major attack on this city.  One perpetrated almost exclusively by changelings."

"Yeah, so?"

"So," growled Goatee, "we have a very good reason to keep you here."

"I don't... Wait."

The changeling stopped for a moment, pondering.  Suddenly, her eyes grew wide, and a look of shock spread across her face.

"... You think I was with those crazies!"

A moment passed, when suddenly, the changeling burst into a fit of laughter.

"You... -giggle- Have... Have you talked to ANYONE else who was there yet?"

Goatee scowled in frustration while the Kid gave a nervous chuckle.

"Oh my god," chuckled the changeling, "You really don't know ANYTHING, do you?"

"This is pointless!" shouted Goatee, fed up with the situation, "You wanna deal with this thing, be my guest."

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving the Kid alone with the cackling prisoner.

"Um... What exactly is so funny?"

The changeling's fit of laughter died down.  She looked to the Kid, giving a smirk. "Well, that sorta depends.  You want the long story, or the short story?"

The Kid shifted nervously. He gave a glance to the door, mulling over the changeling's cryptic response.  Finally, he sighed, taking a seat across the table from the prisoner.

"What the hay, I've got time to kill.  Long story."

The changeling looked surprised, slightly, but the shock was quickly replaced with relief.

"You sure?"

"Eh, why not."

The changeling smiled, adjusting itself into a more relaxed position.

"Well," the creature said with a sigh, "Like every story in my life, it began with a hangover..."

~~~~~

Chapter 2: This Was Real.

-{Chapter 2: This Was Real}-

~~~~~

Monday, April 21st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Canterlot Sewers (Exact location Unknown)

Denise had awoken in many strange places in her life- locked in a dumpster, soaking wet in a fountain, tied to a chair in a mobster's basement- oh, that had been a good one- but she had never woken up in a sewer before.  Groggily, she opened her eyes, only to wince at the stench around her.  She tried again- slower, squinting this time.

The first thing Denise noticed was that she was lying on her stomach in a puddle of she-didn't-want-to-know-what.  Too weak to stand, she rolled over, landing on her stomach once more, this time onto what she hoped was a layer of soil.  She took a brief gander at her surroundings- strangely, the tunnel appeared to be constructed of aged stone brick, and seemed very simple compared to the sewer systems she had seen in her life- no pumps, no generators, not even a walkway for maintenance workers.  The only pipes she saw seeped fluids into a septic river in the center of the tunnel, where they flowed away to an unknown location.  Denise considered herself lucky not to be in there, instead resting comfortably on the shore of the river (at least, as comfortably as one can in a sewer).

Groaning, she struggled to stand, trying to remember what had left her here.  She remembered a creep in a suit, offering a job- had he drugged her?  No, he never had the opportunity.  But then how did she get to a sewer, of all places?

These questions faded from her mind once she had risen to stand, as she suddenly found herself completely off-balance, falling onto her back with a thud.

Wincing from the impact, she opened her eyes again-

And saw a strange, chitinous set of hooves in front of her.

"AAH!"

She screamed, scampering away from them-

They had moved with her.

"AAAAH!"

She moved her arms in front of her face- the same hooves appeared.

"AAAAAAAH!"

She fell to the ground, unconscious.

~~~~~

Time passed...

Denise woke up slowly.  Attempting to open her eyes resulted in a flash of pain, so instead, she merely propped herself up on one foreleg, rubbing her head with her free hoof.

She had been having the weirdest dream- she had sold her soul to the devil, or something, and woke up in a sewer.  For some reason, she was reminded of the kind of dreams she had after watching My Little Pony while on morphine, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out why...

Wait.

Foreleg.

Hoof.

Denise opened her eyes.  She was still in the sewer.  She still had hooves.

"AAAAAAAAH!"

She fell to the ground, unconscious.

~~~~~

Time passed...

Denise awoke with a start, her eyes shooting open.  Something was wrong.  She had been having a nightmare- a vivid one, the kind you only get through heavy drug abuse, and she knew she hadn't been shooting up morphine recently.

A creeping sensation came over her.  She looked to her arms.

Chitinous.  Hoofed.  Forelegs.

The realization came like a hurricane.  Everything came back to her- the bar, the creep, the flash of light, it was all real, it had really happened, oh god what the hell was happening to her-

She felt woozy, as if she would pass out...

"No, NO!  None of that shit again!"

Shaking herself awake, she forced herself to focus.  She had done enough drugs in her life to be able to tell when something was real or not. This was real.  This was happening.

She had to focus.  Her life could depend on it.

Denise struggled to stand, only to fall on her back once more.  She spat out a hiss of frustration- wait, what?- and reluctantly clambered to all fours.

Something about her appearance rang a bell in her head- she'd seen this sort of thing before, somehow.  She was hit by a second realization.

"I'm a... changeling?"

Yes, that was the word.  The little creatures from the last episode of My Little Pony, who attacked the royal wedding of... Someone.  It was one of the main character's brother, she remembered that much, but she wasn't quite in the state of mind to dredge up every little detail.  Con would know more- he was practically an expert on the show, a hardcore Brony, whereas Denise was more casually interested in the show and its fandom.

That thought rang yet another bell in Denise's head.  The creep from the bar had offered Con a job too.  That meant...

"Con?"

Denise winced at her own voice- it was more or less the same as before, but it felt... Scratchier.  Like a buzz.

"Con!" she called out, louder this time.

No response.

"Damnit," she growled.  Con had to be there somewhere.  The creep had listed their partnership as one of the reasons he picked them both; he wouldn't separate them.

Though that raised the question of how he had done any of this in the first place...

No, that could wait.  Denise was more or less alone, in a new body, in the sewer of god-knows-where, and she had no plan whatsoever.  She needed to focus on the present.

Steeling her resolve, she headed off through the series of tunnels, calling out for her friend...

Chapter 3: Any Sufficiently Powerful Being...

-{Chapter 3: Any Sufficiently Powerful Being...}-

~~~~~

Monday, April 21st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Canterlot Sewers (Exact location Unknown)

"CON!"

Denise had been searching the sewers for nearly an hour, to no avail.  The twisting septic catacombs taunted her with their uniform appearance- she was even more lost than she was before.  Now, her only option was to press on forward, hoping that Conrad would hear her eventually.  That hope was growing increasingly faint, however, as Denise realized the sheer scale of the sewer.  For all the tunnels' simplicity, it was a massive system.

Denise suspected she was under some sort of major city, but that didn't help her sense of direction any.  She was in a new body- for all she knew, she wasn't even on earth anymore.

She gave a half-hearted chuckle at the thought.  If she was a changeling, maybe she was in Equestria.  That would be a laugh- a hopeless, deranged junkie like her in the land of sunshine and rainbows.

She hoped they had morphine, a least...

Suddenly, a far off sound caught her attention.  Denise stopped in her tracks and listened.  There was silence for a moment, then the sound came again.

"... Dee?"

It was faint, but she recognized the abbreviation of her name- and the slight accent it carried.

"CON?!"

Silence, and then...

"... Dee!  Where are you?"

Some part of Denise's mind registered that she should not have been able to make out the faint cry, but she pushed it aside, chalking it up to the new body and leaving it at that.  This situation was weird enough already, she didn't need to trouble herself with logic for now.

"CON, STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I'M COMING!" she cried, and sprinted off in the direction of her friend's voice.

"Jesus Christ, Dee, you're not gonna to believe this!"

The faint, ecstatic cry of her companion sent chills up her spine- she knew him well enough to infer what he was talking about.  Denise figured he'd have... changed... too, but she didn't want to acknowledge the suspicion.  Maybe she had still been grasping at some hope that things weren't completely jacked up, that there was still something about her situation that would follow some actual logic.  No such luck, apparently.

"DEE! DEE, YOU STILL THERE?!"

She was getting closer.  Con's distant cries had become shouts, echoing across the labyrinthine tunnels.

"I'M HERE!  JUST STAY WHERE YOU ARE!"

Denise rounded a corner, then another, following the shouts to their source like a bloodhound.  She could hear the splashing of her hooves against the wet soil- wet with what, she didn't want to know, but that was beside the point.  Soon, it was accompanied by a similar splashing, coming from the same direction Con's voice had.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure darted out from a corner ahead of her.  It turned excitedly to face Denise, blinking its large, red eyes, then came dashing towards her.

The figure came to a halt a few feet in front of her, breathing heavily.  Denise immediately recognized it as a changeling, but it was different from what she remembered in the show- she seemed to recall changelings having a distinct blue/green hue, but this one seemed to be just the opposite, with bright scarlet eyes and a distinctly red and pink color scheme to its tail and short tuft of a mane.

"Con, is that-"

Suddenly, the changeling began to speak, erasing all doubts about its identity.

"DENISE, DENISE, YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT HAP- oh, it happened to you too- er, anyway, can you BELIEVE this, I mean, I'm a bloody CHANGELING, and so are you and that means we're in EQUESTRIA and-"

"Con-"

"-if we're in Equestria that means there's PONIES and WE'RE ponies and- "

"Con-"

"- well technically we're not ponies, but we can pass for them and-"

"CONRAD!"

Con's speech practically skidded to a halt.  A moment later, he was gripped in a tight, but brief embrace by Denise, wrapping her forelegs around his neck.

"God, it's good to see you," she sighed, stepping back, "What the hell happened?  Where are we?"

Con looked around briefly.

"Well, if the stench is any indication, we're in a sewer."

"Thanks, I got that," Denise groaned, rolling her eyes, "But what the fuck happened?  Why are we... y'know..."

She was skirting the issue intentionally.  The last thing she wanted was find out she really wasn't human anymore.  There was that small glint of hope, a spark fueled by equal amounts shock and denial, that was keeping her from losing it.  She needed to hold onto that spark, at least until things calmed down.

"Hell if I know," Con muttered in reply, "Last I remember, that bloke in the bar was giving us a job, then there was a flash of light, and...  Well, then I woke up in this little cesspool."

"Same here," Denise sighed dejectedly, "You think... maybe that creep..."

"Did this?"

She nodded.

"I dunno," Con replied, "It makes sense- I mean, compared to everything else that's happening.  But then..."

"I know...  Look, let's just get moving." she sighed.  Their questions were obvious, they didn't need to be spoken.  How did that creep send them here, turn them into... changelings?  And why?

The two friends walked in silence, pondering these questions.  Their thinking only brought more questions- what did that guy want from them?  What did he expect them to do?  And above all else, why them?  He had given Denise plenty of reasons, but there had to be more people with those talents than just them.

Could it have been coincidence?  The two simply being in the wrong place at the right time?  The more Denise thought about it, the less likely it seemed- she had been spot on about dealing with the devil.  Well, maybe not spot on, but close enough.  That man... he wasn't a man.  He was something else, and he was planning something.  He had to be.  But what could he be?  A god?

No, that couldn't be true.  Denise had never been terribly religious, but she firmly believed that there was only one 'god' in the universe.  Anything else was just powerful.  It had been that way a lot in history, with ancient cultures worshipping certain creatures, objects or people simply because they seemed all-powerful, but they were always proven wrong.  The sun wasn't a god, it was a perpetually exploding fireball floating in space.  The moon was nothing more than a hunk of rock that got blasted off of the earth before life existed.  Egyptian pharaohs were just as mortal as the next guy.  Denise had once heard someone say that any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic- well, any sufficiently powerful force was indistinguishable from a god.

But now wasn't the time to get theological.  She was in a potentially hostile situation, with no plan and an immature Brit for backup.  She had to focus.

"You see an exit while you were in here?" she asked, attempting to make conversation.

"No... Actually, I have an idea."

Denise stopped, turning to her companion.

"Well, there's no pumps from what I can see.  That means it's all flowing down on its own.  If that's the case, then this place is on an incline, so if we head in the opposite direction of the flow..."

"... We get closer to top, and thus an exit...  That might actually work, Con!"

The former human gave a smug grin.

"See?  I'm not completely useless after all!"

"... We'll save that conversation for later."

The duo cantered off, in the direction of what they hoped would be freedom...

~~~~~

Time passed...

Con had been right- things were seeming more organized the further upstream they went.  Denise had begun to notice some slight signs of visitation- a discarded bottle here, a missing tool there.  Eventually, they came across what appeared to be maintenance walkways.  People- or ponies- had been there, relatively recently.  That meant there was an entrance close.

"Oh, I can't wait to get out of here," Con said with a grin, "I mean, odds are, we're in Equestria.  Equestria!  Can you believe it?!"

Denise rolled her eyes at his antics.  She was looking forward to reaching the outdoors, too, albeit for a different reason.  Once they got out of the sewers, they might be able to figure out what exactly was going on.  At the very least, they'd be away from the stench.

"Oh my god, I wonder if we'll meet the Mane Six?  Or the background ponies?  I always wanted to know if Bon-Bon and Lyra were really-"

If they could find out where they were, they might gain some insight into what exactly the creep had wanted from them.

"Ooh!  Or maybe we'll meet The Doctor!  Oh, that'd be brilliant-"

Denise was still uneasy, though.  They were changelings.  As much as the show may preach love and tolerance, she doubted reality would be as forgiving.  Changelings had tried to overthrow their government, for crying out loud.

"I wonder if- hey, what's that?"

Maybe she was overreacting.  For all she knew, that hadn't happened yet.  Hell, maybe they weren't even in Equestria at all?

"Oi, Dee, I think I found something-"

Oh, who was she kidding, of course they were in Equestria! Where else could they be?  She doubted they would have become... Well, all signs were pointing towards Equestria, at any rate.

"Denise?  You listening?"

Suddenly, it hit her- she was in Equestria!  This could be exactly what she had wanted when she left Newark!  A fresh start, a chance to-

"Denise!"

Her train of thought was interrupted by Con's yelp.

"Huh?  What?"

Now it was Con's turn to roll his eyes.

"I found a door?"

He gestured to the left, Denise's eyes following suit.

"Huh.  Whattaya know?"

It was more of a passageway, really, but still.  A cleanly-carved opening lead to a flight of stone stairs, leading upwards- and if Denise was right, things seemed to get brighter as it went up.  The two climbed, single-file, coming closer to freedom one inch at a time.

When they reached the top, they were greeted by a dark room, lit only by lamplight.  Barrels of what was likely expensive alcohol were stacked neatly under a stairwell, and several doors lead further into the basement- at least, they assumed it was a basement.  There was an intricate, expensive-looking rug on the smooth stone floor, accompanied by matching banners on the walls, each adorned with a peculiar crest- a trio of crowns.  It seemed to be someone's wine cellar- but why would the sewer lead to a wine cellar?

The answer became clear when they entered the room- there was a rough hole in the wall where the stairs ended.  It was likely the building had been built atop an old sewage station, and the entrance had been walled off- though this raised the question of who had decided to open it up again.

"Well," Con commented after a moment, "this is lovely."

"It's fancy," Denise muttered, "I'll give it that."

Suddenly, there were clacking sounds from above.  They lasted only a moment, but didn't seem to be headed in the direction of the stairwell.  Still, the pair tensed.

Wordlessly, Denise motioned for the stairwell, Conrad nodding in understanding.  Slowly they ascended, creeping closer to the door.

Muffled voices could be made out from the other side.  As quietly as they could, the pair leaned their ears against the door and listened...

~~~~~

"... just don't see why we're keeping the dumb mare!"

Two creatures argued, standing over a tall, lean pony with a white coat and pink mane.  The mare was tied up, whimpering, with tears forming in her eyes.  The creatures' voices had an odd buzzing quality to them.

"C'mon, it's simple," groaned one of the creatures, "If she's dead, Ol' Moneybags up there won't pay up.  So, we keep her down here while the others put the pressure on the big guy."

"But we don't need money," growled the first voice, "Why can't we just take these dummies' sky chariot and fly on outta here?"

"Because we'd get blasted out of the sky before we made it out of the city!  Sheesh, think things through, why don'tcha!"

The mare whimpered pitifully, as if begging for mercy.

"Ah, shut up.  You're lucky these fellas are so insistent, or I'd slit ya neck right now! Dumb ponies..."

~~~~~

"Those voices," whispered Con, "They sound like us."

"Changelings?"

"Probably."

They stepped back from the door.

"Think we should go in?" Denise asked.

"Dunno.  They don't exactly sound like they're having a tea party in there."

"Good point..." she muttered.

From what it sounded like, these changelings were involved in a ransom exchange, and Denise wasn't interested in joining that particular party.  Still, those changelings might be their only shot at getting answers.  But was it really worth getting involved in a hostage situation?

She shook her head, steeling her resolve.

"Con, follow my lead."

Chapter 4: "Giddy up, Moneybags."

-{Chapter 4: "Giddy up, Moneybags."}-

~~~~~

Monday, April 21st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Upper Canterlot (Exact location Unknown)

Denise eased the door open, creeping behind a nearby piece of furniture, Conrad close behind her.  She peered out, observing the room.

The room appeared to be a large pantry.  There were two island counters parallel to one another on opposite sides of the room, one of which the duo lay crouched behind.  Their suspicions had been correct- a pair of changelings, both blue-eyed with blue-green manes glared at eachother from the corners of their eyes. Neither had noticed the duo enter, and stood guard over their prisoner- a lanky unicorn with a white coat and light pink mane.  The unicorn was whimpering softly, clearly terrified.

"Now what?" Conrad whispered, quietly as possible.

"I'm working on that..."

Denise pondered the situation.  They were all changelings- that gave her and Con an advantage.  They could bluff their way into getting the pony out, but then again, they had no idea what was going on.

"Alright, follow my lead.  If worse comes to worst, get ready to move."

"Real specific, Dee," Con sighed with a roll of his eyes.

Slowly, Denise, eased her way to the corner.  Carefully, she stepped out from behind the counter, attempting to draw the changelings' attention.

"What the- Hey!"

Well, it worked.  The changelings snapped to attention, turning to face Denise.  Suddenly, a green-blue glow began to emanate from their curved horns, and two mean-looking daggers levitated in front of them, surrounded by an identical glow.  Magic.  Denise had forgotten about that.

'This could complicate things...' she thought to herself, stepping back defensively.

"Who the hell are you?!  How'd you get in here?"

'So they do have a few swear words in common with us...'

"Woah, calm down!" she stammered, "I came in through the sewers, alright?  Look, I don't want any trouble; we're all in the same boat here, right?"

"Oh, really?" sneered one of the changelings, telekinetically flourishing his dagger, "I dunno about that.  There's something funny 'bout you."

"Yeah," growled the other, "and not ha-ha funny, either.  Like a what's-up-with-your-eyes kinda funny."

"Yes, thank you, Mirror," groaned the first changeling, "I think she got that."

"My... Eyes?"

Wait- these changelings both had blue eyes- same hue, even- whereas Con had red eyes.  She must have had red eyes, too- but why was that a problem?

"Look," she sighed, "I'm lost, I'm tired, and I have no idea what's going on, so-"

Before she could finish her plea, a door on the opposite end of the room swung open, revealing a third changeling- again, with blue eyes.

"The hell's going on in here?  What's all this yelling about?"

"This girlie just came up outta the sewers," explained one of the thugs, "Says she's lost."

"Oh, yeah?" the third responded, "Somehow I doubt... that..."

He trailed off as he looked over Denise, eyes widening.

"Gods-damn him, the old bug was on to something..." muttered the third, taking a single step back.

Denise stared back, confused.

"Um, Shift?" asked one of the thugs, "What's wrong?  What's up with her eyes?"

Without warning, the third changeling, 'Shift', raised a knife of his own.

"KILL HER!"

The two thugs stared, bewildered, wondering what about the stranger had terrified their boss so thoroughly.  Denise used this to her advantage.

"CON, FUCKING MOVE!"

Everything happened in a flash.  The hostage let out a muffled scream as Con leaped over the counter, propelling himself forward with a quick buzz of his insect-like wings, while Denise rushed for the nearest thug.

"What the-"

Denise delivered a powerful kick to the changeling with her front legs, knocking him on his back and causing him to drop his blade.  In a flash, Denise was on top of him, pummeling his head with her hooves, crushing his skull in a fit of blind rage.  Adrenaline always did wonders for Denise, and apparently that hadn't changed after her transformation.

Eventually, the changeling's cries of pain fell silent, and Denise stepped back, breathing heavily.  Her head shot off to the left, searching for any remaining threats.

Instead, she saw Con, his horn alight with a red-orange aura, with a bloodied dagger, evidently taken from one of the thugs, levitating in front of him, and two very dead-looking changelings in front of him.

"Bloody hell, that was close..." he panted, "... Dee?  What're you staring at?"

"How are you..." she stammered, gesturing to her horn.

"Oh, what, this?" he asked, flourishing the knife telekinetically, "I figured it out in the sewers.  I mean, it took a few hours for me to find you, and I got bored, so..."

Wait, what? She had only been searching for him for a little under an hour, what was he-

~~~~~

"AAH!"

"AAAAH!

"AAAAAAH!"

~~~~~

Oh, yeah.

"I, uh, might've been out a bit longer than you."

"Really?  Well, it's not that hard, I can show you later-"

His explanation was interrupted by a muffled yelp.

"Oh, blimey, almost forgot about her..."

The duo rushed to the unicorn's side, eliciting yet another yelp.

"Woah, hey, we're not gonna hurt you," Denise assured the hostage, "We're gonna get you out of this."

Con's horn flared once again, removing the gag from her muzzle.

"P-please, don't kill me..." sobbed the unicorn.  Her voice was soft, and carried a distinct French accent.

"Shh, it's okay, we're here to help," Denise replied, trying to calm the mare.

"You... You're not going to hurt me?" the mare whimpered, surprised, "But... You're..."

"Changelings?"

The mare nodded.

"Yeah, well," Denise sighed, "not all changelings are psychos like these guys."

"Hey, I recognize you," Con said to the mare, "You're Fancypants' wife, right?"

"Fancypants?" Denise deadpanned- she recognized the name from the show, some rich noble snob, but still couldn't help being unimpressed by the name.

"Y-yes, Orion- Fancypants- is my husband.  My... My name is Fleur de Lis.  Wh- what's going on?"

"I don't know," Denise admitted, "We were lost in the sewer and found an old entrance that led to some wine cellar.  Then we overheard these goons," she gestured to the dead changelings, "and figured we'd lend you a ha- er, hoof."

"The sewer?" the unicorn replied, as Con cut away her restraints, "That... makes sense, I suppose- there was a landslide here several decades ago.  It buried most of the area- I suppose it's possible to break in from the old tunnels..."

"Look, we're still lost," Con explained, "if you could tell us where we are, exactly?"

"Oh- of... of course.  This is my home- me and Fancypants'- in the Garden district."

"... of?" Denise drawled, hoping for more information

"Why... Canterlot, of course.  Where else?"

"Er- yeah, well," Con replied, "we're... very lost."

"I can tell..."

"Wait," Denise interrupted, "You said this was your home?  Where's your husband?"

"Upstairs," replied Fleur, rising to her hooves, "They were going to keep me down here until Orion led them to where we keep our money- please, you have to help him!"

"Don't worry, we will," Con replied, "Where do you think they'd be now?"

"Probably in the lounge.  It's where we keep our safe- as long as he thinks they have me, he'll do whatever they want."

"Lounge, upstairs, got it," Denise repeated, "Stay here and wait for us.  We'll take care of these assholes."

"Th- thank you," Fleur sighed, "I'll come up when things quiet down- please, don't let anything happen to my husband!"

"We won't," Con assured her, "I promise."

~~~~~

Monday, April 21st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Garden District, Fancypants' Mansion

"I have nothing against you changelings, but I swear, if you lay one hoof on my Fleur-"

"Shove it, Moneybags," growled the changeling behind him, telekinetically prodding him with a crossbow, "Just show us the bits."

Orion Rosewood Fancypants was not a pony to be trifled with, and these changelings were no exception.  Given the opportunity, he would have gladly shown these ruffians a thing or two about what he learned in the royal guard.  Unfortunately for him, they outnumbered him seven-to-one, and as much as it pained him to allow these thieves free reign of his home, he simply could not let harm befall his beloved Fleur de Lis.

"Giddy up, Moneybags, we don't have all day here!"

"Alright!" he growled, "The safe is behind the bookshelf, next to the fireplace."

The lounge had two entrances- one from the hallway, and one leading to the adjacent study.  It was a large, open room, designed to house a small party's worth of Canterlot nobility.  Large bookshelves lined parts of the wall, others covered in expensive-looking portraits and paintings, with comfortable seating tastefully scattered across the room, occasionally accompanied by fragile-looking lamps or decorative vases.

"Right, Pose, Pic!  Get to work moving the shelf.  The rest of you, keep an eye on Moneybags here.  I'm gonna check on the little missy."

The various changelings nodded, attending to their respective duties as their boss left the room.

"Still don't undersatnd why he gets to act like he's in charge," grumbled one of the changelings moving the bookshelf, 'Picture', "I mean, that's why we left old Morph, ain't it?"

"I know what you mean," growled the other, 'Pose' apparently, "I say that buzz-off's just as much of a wannabe-queen as the old bug was."

"Heh," chuckled Picture, "Imagine, a male queen."

"Ha, guess that'd make him a king, right?"

"Yeah, haha!"

The pair's shared laughter lasted only a moment, before being interrupted by a crash from outside.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and two red-eyed changelings burst through, one wielding a dagger, and the other armed only with a murderous look.

"What the hell-"

One of the changelings guarding Fancypants, a female, cried out, but was cut down before she could finish her exclamation.  The unarmed changeling, another female, pounced her, smashing the guard's head repeatedly with her forehooves.  The second red-eye launched himself forward as well, driving his dagger into one of the guard's necks.

Picture and Pose stood, shocked, unable to move.

"Wha-" Picture stammered, "What the hell is going on?!"

"Who cares!?" cried Pose, scampering towards a nearby window, "We gotta get outta here!"

Picture spared a quick look back at his four former allies- three, now- and made his decision.

"Never liked these jerks anyway..." he muttered to himself, shooting out of the window with a buzz of his wings.

~~~~~

Okay, that one was dead.

Denise backed off from the changeling she had pounced, turning to face Con.  He seemed to be holding his own against his second opponent, the other lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.  That left the two by the bookcase, who she had seen fly out the window, and-

-Wham!-

... That guy.

Denise fell to the ground and rolled onto her back.  The last changeling stood above her, hovering a crossbow menacingly close to her head.  Denise squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for what would come next...

-Smash!-

-Thump!-

Her eyes shot open at the sound.  The changeling above her was bleeding from several small cuts on it's head, with what appeared to be shards of marble lodged in some of them, and was comically teetering back and forth.  It had dropped its crossbow, unable to focus its magic in its dazed state.

In her panic, adrenaline rushing through her veins, Denise lurched towards the crossbow.  Her horn erupted in a red-orange glow, and she smashed the grip of the weapon into the changeling's stomach, then the side of its head, knocking it to the ground with her.  Quickly, she scampered to her hooves, reversing their roles in mere seconds.

She took a moment to breath, keeping the crossbow aimed squarely at the changeling's head.  Suddenly, the changeling groaned, weakly lifting itself up on its forelegs, and looked up- directly into the tip of the crossbow bolt.

"NO, PLEA-"

The bolt shot through the changeling's head, pinning it to the floor.

In the excitement, Denise had failed to notice it, but now that things had calmed down, she was able to fully appreciate it- she had used her horn!  A slight smile spread across her face as she maneuvered the crossbow in front of her.  It was almost instinctual- a thoughtless action.  She just wanted to grab it, and she did.  How the hell did that work?

No, she'd save those questions for later.  Less thinking, more surviving.

Breathing heavily, Denise turned again to Con.  He had finished off is opponent, and was now struggling to telekinetically dislodge his dagger from the corpse.

'Wait,' she thought, 'if he's doing that, then what-'

"A-hem."

She turned sharply, coming face-to-face with a white, blue-maned unicorn much larger than her.  His horn was aglow with a golden aura, and next to him floated a smashed marble bust, covered in the same glow.

"Well," she heard Con sigh from behind her, "That was fun.  In a twisted, horrible, not-fun-at-all kind of way."

"I'll have to agree on that," sighed the unicorn, gently placing the bust back on its stand, "I never though I'd see a brawl like that again- not since I left the guard at any rate...  Now, if you two 'good sa-mare-itans' could explain why, exactly, you've come to my rescue, I would be much obliged."

Denise turned to look at the mess she and Con had left in their wake, before turning back to look the Unicorn straight in the eye.

"Mister," she sighed, "I have no goddamn idea."

Chapter 5: "... Just Started Today."

-{Chapter 5: "... Just Started Today."}-

~~~~~

Monday, April 21st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Garden District, Fancypants' Mansion.

Denise had been wrong about Fancypants- he wasn't a rich, noble snob.

He was a rich, noble dreamboat.

Admittedly, it was a dreamboat that had already set sail, with Fleur de Lis at the helm, but still.  The man- er... stallion, was was charming in every sense of the word.  He seemed to know just what to say and when, and was quite possibly the most polite person- well, pony- that Denise had ever had the pleasure of meeting.  And, in the absolute strangest way, Denise actually found him attractive.  She assumed it was some sort of equine instinct that had been imparted on her by her transformation, but something about him was... well, to put it bluntly, sexy, in a gentlemanly (gentlecoltly?) way.

He even gave the duo the benefit of the doubt, something Denise was very appreciative of.  At first she had assumed he'd simply throw them to the proverbial wolves of law enforcement without a second thought, but Fancypants had possessed the decency to hear them out.  After explaining their situation- leaving out anything prior to the sewer, of course- he gave his word that he would not make mention of them to the authorities when they arrived.

With that, the group headed downstairs, returning to the second hostage.

"Fleur!"

"Orion!"

In a flash, slender unicorn ran to her husband and embraced him in her forehooves.

"Oh, thank Celestia you're okay!  I was so worried!"

"Not as worried as I was, darling," Fancypants reassured his tearful wife, "Those ruffians didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No, I'm fine- thanks to these two."

Con blushed, and Denise averted her gaze.

"It was nothing, really," she muttered.

"Nonsense!" Fancypants proclaimed, "Why, if you two hadn't come along... I don't want to think about what would have happened to us.  I owe you my life, both of you."

"Er, thank you, sir," Denise said, the slightest smile on her face.

"Please," beamed the stallion, "call me Orion."

... Yeah, she'd stick to 'Fancypants'.

"Now," he remarked, clearing his throat as he levitated a golden monocle from his coat pocket, "I'll be calling the city guard in a moment to sort out the, er... mess.  You two would do well to make yourselves... more presentable, if you catch my meaning.  As appreciative as I may be, I doubt the law will feel the same way."

'Ah, shit.'

"Oh, um, right.  If you'll just... excuse us," Denise stammered, stepping out of the room and nudging Conrad along with her.

Shutting the door behind her, Denise let out a sigh.

"Shit," she groaned, "This could be a problem."

"What?  Disguising?"

Denise rolled her eyes, turning around to face her companion.

"Yes, disgui-"

She stopped mid-sentence, shocked.  Where Con had been moments earlier, there now stood a tan unicorn stallion, with a short-cropped navy-blue mane and tail, crimson irises, and a- what were they called... cutie-mark in the shape of a microphone on its flank.

"Wh- how- Con?!"

"Who... else would it be?" he replied slowly, confused.  His voice no longer had the insect-like quality it had possessed in his changeling form, now sounding identical to his voice as a human.

"Bu- but how-"

"Wait," he interrupted, "you're telling me you didn't even figure this out?  How long were you unconscious?"

~~~~~

"AAH!"

"AAAAH!"

"AAAAAAH!"

~~~~~

"Um..."

"Oh, forget it- look, it's easy.  I'll walk you through it..."

Con took Denise to the side, and began to explain how to change her appearance.

~~~~~

Time passed...

"Alright, is this good?"

"See for yourself."

Con lead Denise to a mirror.  Stepping in front of it, Denise looked at herself for the first time since she had arrived in equestria- and not as a changeling.  Instead, she was greeted by the image of a velvet purple unicorn, with bright red irises and a straight, black mane tied neatly in a ponytail- heh, 'pony'tail-, a red flag for a cutie-mark.

Experimentally, she shifted back to her natural form, a quick burst of red-orange flame encompassing her, just for a moment, dispersing to reveal a typical-looking changeling female.  Her horn seemed straighter than that of Conrad's, and a small crest was present on the back of her head.  Otherwise, they were fairly identical- naturally, Con was slightly taller and had a more angular, masculine appearance, but they seemed to be normal changelings.

'Except for our eyes, apparently,' Denise thought with a frown.

She shook the thought from her head.  That was a mystery for later.

"I look... good," she stated, shifting back to her chosen disguise.

"I see you're sticking to the usual color scheme," Con replied with a smirk, noting her still-prevalent preference for red, black, and purple.

"Screw you, I look good in it," she shot back with a smirk, admiring herself in the mirror.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.  It opened a crack, and Fleur peeked her head into the room.

"The guards are here.  They'll want to speak to you."

~~~~~

"Ready?" Fancypants asked in a hushed tone.

"Probably," Denise replied, unsure.

"Just follow my lead," he assured the pair, giving a wink.

The three stepped into the main foyer, where several armored unicorns were levitating changeling bodies into the back of a cart, while several other guards took took notes on the crime scene.

"Mr. Fancypants?" called one of the guards, a larger one with fancier armor, who carried himself with an air of importance- or pompousness.

"Sergeant," Fancypants replied with a nod, "Will there be any more questions?"

"I'd just like to confirm these two's identities- who did you say they were again?"

"Ah, yes.  These fine ponies are my new bodyguards- dangerous times, you see, what with these changelings.  As for their names..."

He glanced to them, unsure.

"... well, I suppose I'll let them introduce themselves."

Denise mentally cursed- she hadn't had time to think of that, and Con certainly hadn't either-

"Carbon Copy, pleasure to meet you."

... Well, never mind then.

"And you, ma'am?"

Denise's mind rushed- she needed to think up a name that fit, and fast.  She had chosen a flag for her cutie-mark, for no particular reason- she had to work with that.  What would flags stand for?  Unity?

"... Rally Cry."

Yeah, that would work.

"Right, then," the Sergeant replied, "You two been working for Mr. Fancypants long?"

The duo glanced to eachother, then Fancypants, and smirked.

"... Just started today."

The guards didn't stay long- with so little left for them to do, they were eager to get back to their regular duties.  They cleaned up the bodies, collected their evidence (mostly the weapons the robbers had used), and left the former humans alone with their new 'employers'.

Strangely, both Fancypants and Fleur had 'neglected' to mention the sewer entrance in the wine cellar- not wanting to leave their newfound friends without the way they had come in, nor for the guards to worry about the potential risk it posed.

"Well," Fancypants proclaimed, "now that all that's settled, how about we head off to the lounge and get acquainted.  As much as I appreciate the rescue, I'm afraid Fleur and I still know very little about you."

Denise sighed.  This was it.

"Con?  I think you should take this."

She knew Con was more into the show than she was- if anyone could explain their situation, it was him.

Con practically lit up with excitement at this, practically bouncing up the stairs towards the lounge...

~~~~~

The explanation had gone...  Rather smoothly, actually.

It had lasted long into the night, with both Fancypants and Fleur listening intently.  Questions arose, naturally, but the nobles seemed to take the news in stride- Fancypants moreso than his wife- and Con had done a surprisingly good job at weaving the explanation, including only the right details, and coming up with some very clever explanations for some of the more complex parts of their world.  Overall, the ponies seemed to accept their explanation- they were shocked, naturally, but seemed to believe the duo's story.

"... then we found our way to the wine cellar, and- well, you know what happened from there."

"That's- well, it's unbelievable, but I suppose it makes sense," Fleur replied, shocked, "It would explain why those changelings attacked you.  Perhaps they could tell you were- what did you call yourselves?  Humans?"

"I must say, it's quite the the story," Fancypants replied, sipping from a glass of expensive wine, "Though I must admit, something about your story seems familiar to me...  I seem to recall encountering something similar to what you described yourselves as, 'humans', in my studies of ancient mythology- I'll have to do some research, but I may be able to help answer some of your questions."

"Wait, really?" Denise gasped, hoping she may finally be able to find some answers.

"Maybe," Fancypants clarified, "I somehow doubt I'll find anything pertaining to you two specifically, but there may be some clues hidden in your kind's history."

"Thank you," she sighed, "You have no idea what this means to us- this whole day has been so... jacked up.  I just want something to make sense for once."

"Well, don't worry," Fleur assured the pair, "We have plenty of room in the mansion- you can stay as long as you like.  It's the least we can do."

Denise glanced to Con, who was positively beaming at the whole situation.  She smiled- at least he was having a good time.  Now that things had calmed down, she had time to think about their situation- and consequently, realized that she knew nothing about their situation.  They were lost, tired, and had been robbed of their very humanity by the single creepiest being in the universe.  Denise was lucky she was still breathing.

As Fleur lead them to the guest bedrooms, Denise silently counted her blessings- she had shelter, friends, and most importantly- she was still sane.  The events of today would have broken just about anyone else, she was sure- but she and Con had made it out on top.

She smiled.  For the first time since Denise had left prison, things were looking up...

Chapter 6: "I Have a Message."

-{Chapter 6: "I Have a Message."}-

~~~~~

Sunday, May 20th, 1005 ANM

Manehattan, Equestria

MHPD Headquarters

A young unicorn colt in a police uniform sat across from a changeling prisoner, sharing a laugh with the insect-like creature.

"Alright," the Kid snickered, "remind me again: how much of this story is you just messing with me?"

"Absolutely none," the changeling, Rally Cry (or was it really Denise?), deadpanned, smirking slightly.

"No way."

"I'm serious!" she laughed, "It's all true!"

"Sure it is."

"Ah, screw you."

The two said nothing for a moment, chuckling at the absurdity of their situation.

"Okay, one quick question," the Kid said, pausing a moment, "What was with that whole rant on theology earlier?  I mean, I respect the beliefs of others and all, but I didn't think you'd be the type to believe in just one god."

"Why?" she grinned, "Because I'm a changeling?"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

"Racist."

The two laughed some more, thouroughly enjoying themselves.

"Ah... But seriously, It's actually a common thing for humans.  One god and all that."

"Really?"

The Kid still didn't believe the prisoner's story, but was interested nonetheless.

"Yeah.  I was never that into it back home- didn't have much reason to, besides having someone to blame for all the stuff that went wrong in my life.  That kinda changed after I got here, though..."

"How?" the Kid asked, "I'd think that if anything, you'd start believing in other gods."

"Yeah, you'd think," she sighed, "Thing is, I might not have been that interested in religion, but monotheism is what I was raised on.  Naturally, it's what I fell back on when things got rough."

"Rough?"

"Yeah.  Remember what I said about me and morphine?"

The Kid nodded, listening.

"Well, I may have had a new body, but I still had all my old problems..."

~~~~~

Thursday, May 1st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Upper Canterlot, Pillbox's Pharmacy

Pillbox yawned, taking stock of his store.  It was still early in the morning, and it would be some time before any customers arrived, but he was an early riser.  Better to tackle the day head-on than laze away in bed, that was his motto.

"Morning, Pillbox!"

A cheery, female voice caught his attention.

"Ah, good morning, Dewdrop!"

His younger employee smiled, wordlessly starting to help him take inventory.  She had always been a hard worker, and it showed.

"So, we're getting those new herbal medicines from Ponyville today, right?" she asked, trying to start up conversation.  Dewdrop was a talkative pony, and Pillbox enjoyed the company.  The young mare always managed to make him smile, even on the worst of days.

"Yes, they should be here around noon.  I tell you, that zebra- Zecora, her name is- she is a miracle worker.  Why, her brews sell so quickly, I'm starting to have trouble keeping them on the shelves!"

A thought popped into his head.

"Oh, that reminds me- I need to write a letter to the shipping company.  Do you think you handle things out here?"

"Sure thing, Pillbox!" she replied with a grin.

Pillbox smiled, heading to his office to compose his letter.  That mare was something else...

Several minutes later, he heard a knock at the front door of the pharmacy.

"Dewdrop?  Could you get that?"

There was no response, and the knocking continued.

"Dewdrop?"

Nothing, save for even more knocking.

Rolling his eyes, he stood up to head to the door.  Dewdrop must have been too involved in her work to hear him- no matter.  He could get the door.

Opening the door with a smile, he was greeted by-

"Dewdrop?"

"Hey, Pillbox," she said with a nervous chuckle, "Sorry about the ruckus- I forgot my key, and the spare I keep under the rock was missing."

"What...  If you lost your key, how did you get in the first time?"

"First time?" she repeated, confused, "Pillbox, I just got here."

"But... But I just..."

Meanwhile, a purple, black-maned unicorn walked down the street, saddlebags filled with stolen morphine.

~~~~~

Thursday, May 1st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Garden District, Fancypants' Mansion

Denise sighed, stuffing her new supply into the bottom drawer of her dresser in Fancypants' guest room.  It was where she kept any morphine she... 'came across' throughout the day, usually from first-aid kits or the back rooms of pharmacies.  She never took everything- just what she needed.

Needed.  That was the key word.  She didn't deny it- she was an addict.  May as well have had a death wish.  But she was holding on- she didn't like her situation, but it was manageable, and that was good enough for her.  If she had been a crackhead, she'd have died from withdrawal within a week of arriving in Equestria.  Better that it was something simple and common, no fancy chemical blends, designed by junkies, for junkies.

Denise looked out the window- it was still early.  She didn't dare shoot herself up during daylight hours- the last thing she wanted to do was bring this to her hosts' attention.  She waited until the dead of night, when her only companion was the darkness, both literal and metaphorical, that she was so intimately acquainted with.

A knock at the door.  Denise shut the drawer, quickly and quietly.

"Come in."

The door swung open, and Fancypants stepped into the room.

"Ah, there you are, Denise," he said, smiling.  The stallion had taken to calling her by her human name- not that she minded, "I've been meaning to speak with you.  You recall I mentioned having heard of your kind?"

"Yeah," she replied, "why?  Did you find something?"

"Indeed I have," he smirked, "and I must say, it's quite the find."

He lead Denise down the hallways of the mansion to his private study, a tastefully decorated hideaway filled with bookshelves and various exotic objects of interest to the noble.  Fancypants had a particular interest in Zebra culture, apparently gained from a tour of duty in the royal guard when he was young.  He had spent quite some time in the Zebrican Isles, and had grown endeared to the locals, having spent a good deal of time learning their language and customs.

"Now, where was it?" he muttered, telekinetically sifting through various old-looking books, "Ah!  Here it is!"

He lifted a large, worn tome from the shelves, setting it down on a podium he had placed in the center of the room.  Flipping through the book, he settled on a page, turning to speak to Denise.

"Right here, in this collection of ancient Equestrian myths.  Many of these predate even the formation of the three tribes- that is, the first organized pony governments, one of each race.  Now, this particular piece dates back to the Paradise Valley era, when ponykind was still a primitive race.  It recounts a race of otherworldly beings known as 'humans', supposedly sent as emissaries of the gods to bring about great changes to the world- vanquishing demons, uniting ponies, that sort of thing."

Fancypants turned back to the tome, leafing ahead several pages.

"Now, what really interests me is this particular passage.  It says here,

'Humans were believed to be shapeshifters, similar to changelings, but only able to take a single, permanent form.  It was said that before they were sent into the world, the gods would decide the form their Human emissary would take, releasing them to do their bidding in a body more suitable to the world they would now inhabit.'

The book rationalizes this as early misconceptions regarding ponies encountering changelings, but with you here, I think we can safely debunk that theory."

"Assuming I'm not insane and making this all up," Denise smirked, "right?"

Fancypants let out a chuckle.

"I doubt that.  Your story is far too detailed and well-thought out to be the product of a deranged mind.  Unless, of course, I'm mad as well, but somehow I find that unlikely."

The two shared a chuckle.  They had gotten along well in their time together, and Denise was thankful he was the one to find her and Con after they crawled out of that sewer.  Speaking of Con...

"Have you told Con about this yet?"

"I tried to, but Carbon wasn't quite as interested as you seem to be," he explained.  Con had preferred to be called by his chosen name, at least by the ponies.

"Honestly, I think he's far more excited by the whole prospect of being here.  It must be a dream come true for him, being able to experience a whole new world.  What I wouldn't give to feel that kind of youthful wonder," he sighed with a nostalgic smile, "It'd be like the Zebrican Isles, all over again."

"Yeah, something like that," she sighed, with a roll of her eyes.  In reality, it was less wonder and more fanboyism that was responsible for Con's high spirits.

"Where is he, anyway?  I didn't see him this morning."

"Oh, Fleur took him sightseeing," Fancypants explained, returning the book to its place on the shelf, "I think she's taken a liking to the little fellow."

Denise, raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Jealous, Orion?"

Fancypants let out a chortle at the comment.

"Hardly!  Carbon may think he's a charmer, but I get the impression that Fleur's interest is more... maternal than anything."

"Lord knows he needs someone to keep an eye on him," Denise chuckled, as the pair left the study.

Fancypants raised an eyebrow.

"'Lord'?"

"Er... Turn of phrase.  Religious implications... My point is, he's a damn child."

Fancypants smirked.

"Well, I can't argue with that."

~~~~~

Thursday, May 1st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Upper Canterlot, City Market

"Alright, I'll have a strawberry cupcake, and... two sodas."

The earth pony mare behind the counter smiled to Con, currently in his unicorn disguise.

"That'll be five bits."

Con returned the smile, levitating five golden coins from his saddlebags and placing them on the counter of the market stall.

"Have a nice day, sir!" the mare thanked him, nuzzling his bag towards him.

Con gave a wink and a lady-killer smirk back to the mare, who in turn let out a quick giggle and a blush.  The food should have cost six bits, but Con was a shrewd businessman- and had a way with the ladies.

Con trotted over to Fleur, who was walking along with her own bag of shopping.

"For the fine lady in pink," Con smiled, offering one of his sodas.

Fleur couldn't help but giggle at his antics.  He was clearly smitten by her looks, like many a stallion, and she hardly blamed him.  He was more tolerable than most- perhaps it was his childish nature and polite charm, but she found herself enjoying the changeling's company.

She accepted his offering, more out of politeness than anything (she had no desire to break her strict diet, no matter how insistent Con may have been), and placed it in one of her bags.

"Oh, this is brilliant," Con mumbled through a mouthful of cupcake, "I mean everyone- sorry, everypony is so nice!  Nothing like home- couldn't go down the block without hearing someone throwing around racial slurs like it was 1920."

Fleur smiled gently.

"Well, we ponies pride ourselves on our kindness- especially in Canterlot."

"I can see that," he sighed, "Wish Denise could just get her mind out of the gutter long enough to enjoy it- I swear, fate has not been kind to that girl."

"How so?" Fleur asked, "She always seems so distant, but she doesn't talk about why.  She doesn't talk about her past at all, really."

Con frowned, looking to the ground.

"Honestly, I'd rather not say too much.  A lot of it's personal, you see...  I can tell you she spent two years in prison."

Fleur gasped- prison?  She could tell the girl was troubled, but she had never taken Denise for an ex-criminal.

"It's a shame really," Con sighed, "She deserved it, in the sense of how the law works, but when it comes to the morality of it all...  Well, after all she'd been through, I'd say she was justified."

Fleur gave a worried, but curious expression.

"Justified in what?"

Con remained silent for a moment.

"I... She wouldn't want me to say.  Like I said, it's a very personal matter."

The two walked along in silence for a moment.

"Well, let's not dwell on that," Con spoke up, "Let's focus on happier things- we were gonna go see the castle, right?"

"Oh, yes," Fleur picked up, smiling once more, "There's a public tour at noon, so we still have plenty of time to browse the market."

The pair smiled, turning their thoughts to happier things.

~~~~~

Fancypants' Mansion

Denise walked down the halls of Fancypants' mansion.  She was preparing to head out shopping- for real, this time, not just scavenging for morphine.  She slipped on a red down jacket the same color as her eyes, purchased earlier that week as gift from her host.  With a burst of magical flame, she shifted into her disguise, slipping her saddlebags onto her back.  In addition, she slipped a small object into her pocket- a purchase of her own.  A small zip gun, with a single, miniature bolt loaded in it. Denise didn't like to go anywhere unarmed- a paranoid habit she had gained in Newark, and one that had saved her life on more than a few occasions.

Suddenly, she heard a tapping at a nearby window.  Instinctively, she retrieved the primitive gun and whipped around- coming face-to-face with a terrified-looking yellow pegasus.

Cursing herself for her impulsiveness, she began to lower her weapon- only to be interrupted by the pegasus' terrified yelp.

"W- Wait!  Don't hurt me!  I- I know who you are, I was here last week!"

'Last week?'

"... You're one of the bastards that tried to rob Orion, aren't you!"

"O- Orion?  You mean Fancypants?"

Denise scowled.

"I- I mean- yeah," he squeaked, "M- My name's Picture- Picture Perfect. Look I- I'm just passing along a message, alright?  I don't want any trouble!"

Denise raised an eyebrow at this.

"A message from who?"

~~~~~

"Psst."

Conrad's ears perked up.  Fleur was browsing a stall of imported jewelry, while he stood waiting nearby.

"You.  Come to the alley."

Con could tell the voice was directed at him, but who was calling?  He frowned, following the voice to its source- ready to defend himself if necessary.  Something felt off.

'Of course something feels off,' he mentally chided himself, 'it's a bloody mugging, dumbass!'

Still, he was curious, and he was confident he could handle a single mugger.  Probably.

Slowly, an adolescent pony stepped out from the shadows, dressed in a black, hooded cloak.

"Are you Carbon Copy?" the stranger asked.

"What's it to you, kid?"

Suddenly, a blue-green flame erupted around the pony, dispersing to reveal a young, blue-eyed changeling- shorter than Denise, even, but still not quite a child.

"I have a message."

~~~~~

"Elder M- Morpheus," stammered Picture, "He sent me- said he wanted to meet you, an- and your friend!"

Denise frowned, still aiming the zip gun at the disguised changeling.

"Who the hell is Morpheus?"

~~~~~

"He is the head of our clan, and the high shaman- I am his apprentice, Swap-Out."

"Right," Con nodded, furrowing his brows, "what does he want with us?"

~~~~~

"He wouldn't say- told me he'd explain after I delivered the message!  Swap knows, too- but he won't tell anyone unless Morph gives the word."

"Why should I trust you?" Denise growled.

~~~~~

"I have no reason to lie," the young changeling explained, frowning, "and if Morpheus wanted you dead, I would have killed you already."

"If you don't have a reason to lie," Con snarled, "why aren't you telling my why he sent you?"

"Because the Elder wishes to explain it to you face-to-face- and as his apprentice, I must respect his wishes."

~~~~~

"Look, I don't like this any more than you do," whimpered Picture, "but I don't have a choice!  Morph's the only thing standing between us and the guard, and as much as the old bug gets under my skin, I gotta do what he says!"

Denise stood her ground, pondering.

~~~~~

"If you want answers, go down to the sewers and wait for us to come to you.  We'll lead you to our sanctuary from there."

Conrad perked up at this.

"Answers?  What are you talking about- how much do you know?"

Swap furrowed his brows.

"Enough."

With that, Swap shifted into his disguise once more, leaving the alley and disappearing into the crowd.

~~~~~

"... I'll think about it," Denise snarled, "Get the hell out of here."

"Thank you!" squeaked Picture, darting off into the distance.

Denise watched as he disappeared into the city, pondering he significance of what had just occurred.

"Denise?"

She turned to the side, finding Fancypants staring at her from a doorway.

"Why do you have that out?" he asked, gesturing to her zipgun, "What's going on?"

She turned back to the window, tucking the weapon back into her pocket.

"... I think I might finally be getting some answers."

Interlude: Darkness Stirs

-{Interlude: Darkness Stirs}-

~~~~~

2012, Date Unknown

Buffalo, New York

Exact Location Unknown

Several young men stood outside the door to their boss’s room, speaking in hushed voices.  Each was worried, both for their boss, and for their lives.

“I ain’t talkin’ to him, you talk to him!”

“Are you crazy?  No way I’m goin’ in there!”

“If anyone’s crazy, he is!  No one in their right mind locks themselves up like that for so long...”

Eight days ago, members of the Boccino crime family had killed rival mob boss Giovanni Dibenedetto and his wife, Carmen, in a drive-by shooting.  The following day, a series of police raids had crippled the Dibenedetto family’s remaining operations, leaving the organization in shambles.  Leon Dibenedetto, Giovanni’s son and the sole remaining blood relative of the Dibenedetto’s, had hidden himself away for days after the events, not so much as answering the door.  His personal gang of street punks, mostly the young adult children of the crime family’s many enforcers, were left completely in the dark, and lacking the brains needed to lead themselves, had been left in a state of limbo.

The punks had decided that enough was enough, and came to Leon’s home to coax him out.  Unfortunately, in his absence, rumors had begun to spread about him.  The subject tended to differ- some said that he was obsessed with the occult, others said he was spending every cent of his inheritance on revenge, but they all agreed on the cause- his parents’ deaths drove him insane, and now he was more psychotic than ever.

So, as the punks bickered about who would face the supposed mad man, the youngest of the gang, a sixteen year old by the name of Joey, rubbed his forehead in annoyance.  He and Leon had been somewhat close, at least more so than most of the punks he hung out with.  Running a hand through his curly, dark brown hair, Joey wondered how exactly the rest of the guys had descended into such a state of indecision after just one week.

Sighing, he pushed his way to the center of the group, raising his hands to silence the others.

“Guys, come on, we all know Leon.  I mean, yeah, he’s crazy, but he ain’t that crazy!”

“Well you go talk to him then, tough guy!” spat one of the older punks.

“As a matter of fact, I will!”

The thugs grew silent as Joey turned to the door and grasped the handle.  He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder to the others.

“Well? Fuckin’ do it, man,” one of them muttered, the others offering faint mumbles of agreement.

Suddenly regretting his decision, Joey took a deep breath, and opened the door, stepping inside.

The room was a dimly-lit mess.  Cardboard boxes filled with dusty old files and books were haphazardly stacked in the corners, with various papers scattered across the floor.  At the far end of the room, a spray-tanned nineteen year old stood hunched over a table, staring at the pages of a worn leather manuscript.  Joey could hear him muttering to himself, halfway growling, even.

“Shoulda known she was trouble from the start, fuckin’ bitch...”

Joey edged closer, treading lightly.

“Fuckin’ whore’s behind everything, fuckin’ everything.  Shoulda known...”

“Leon?” Joey spoke up, careful not to raise his voice, “You feelin’ okay, boss?”

His boss ignored him, still staring at the manuscript.

“Leon...  We’re all worried about you, man,” Joey continued, “I know that what happened...  I know it hit you hard, man.  We all do.”

Slowly, Leon looked over his shoulder.

“She did it,” he growled.

Joey stepped back slightly, confused.

“... who?”

“That bitch from the bar,” he reiterated, “She did it.  I know she did.”

Joey, glanced to the side, spying several photographs and newspaper clippings on the wall.  Each of them featured the same face and the same name.

"Denise Hartman."

“She wiped out the Russians in Newark, y’know?  The Dumovitch family” Leon continued, turning to face Joey, “They covered it up.  No idea why, but they did.”

“Who covered it up?”

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!”

Joey staggered backwards at the outburst as Leon whipped around, arms spread wide.  Leon’s expression was one of pure rage, his pupils dilated and lips curled into a snarl.  Between that, his unkempt hair, and the look of the room, Joey was actually starting to believe the guys outside.

Leon was losing it.

“The... The DEA was a part of it...  And some gang-bangin’ spic motherfuckers, too.  I done my homework.”

“Leon, we all saw what happened,” Joey started, “It was the Boccinos that-”

“No it wasn’t,” Leon growled, pointing a finger at Joey, “They were the fall guys.  I just...  I know it.”

“Leon...”

“What, I mean you’re tellin’ me it’s a coincidence?  That this broad, who just happens to have already fucked over one crime family, just happens to show up in town and try to kill me, then MY PARENTS just happen to... to...”

Leon trailed off, voice cracking slightly.  His posture softened, and he turned away, staring off into space.  Joey, meanwhile, considered what his boss had said.  He remembered the girl Leon was talking about, vaguely.  However, Joey distinctly remembered that it was Leon that pulled a gun on her, not the other way around, and even after she disarmed him, the girl had never actually tried to kill him.  Leon wasn’t making any sense, especially with all of the conspiracy bullshit.  A DEA coverup?  Single-handedly wiping out a crime family?  That was the sort of thing you saw in action movies and video games, not real life.

Joey didn’t want to believe it, but Leon had snapped.  He wouldn’t have been surprised if the poor guy was on drugs.  It would explain the paranoia and anger issues, at least.

Leon turned around, a cold look in his eyes.

“I’m gonna find her,” he stated, his voice wavering, “I don’t care who she is, where she goes, or what she does.”

Leon turned away, walking back to his seat.  He sat back down, hunching over the leather tome once again.

“I'm gonna find her, and when I do, I’m gonna kill her.  And ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me.”

Chapter 7: Reminiscing...

-{Chapter 7: Reminiscing...}-

~~~~~

Thursday, May 1st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Garden District, Fancypants' Mansion

Ten hours and one syringe later, Denise was ready for action.

Night had fallen over the glistening city, with the upper neighborhoods settling in for the night, and the younger crowd shaking off their hangovers, ready to hit the clubs.  All the while, Denise and Conrad had been preparing for their meeting with the mysterious ‘Elder Morpheus’.  The message had come as a shock to both them and their benefactors, who had grown nervous about the proceedings.

Denise was in her room, stuffing her pockets with darts for her zipgun.

“You're sure you want to go through with this?” asked Fancypants, “It could easily be a trap.”

“I’m sure.  They don’t have anything to gain from setting us up - I think - so we should be fine.”

“You killed seven of their comrades,” Fancypants pointed out, “I would think they have an ulterior motive.”

Denise sighed, turning to face her host.

“I’ll be fine.  I’ve dealt with worse situations than this, believe me.”

Fancypants shot her an incredulous look.

“Look, you said it yourself,” she continued, “I’ve already killed seven of them.  If they’re gonna jump me, I should be able to handle them.  Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

Denise had no idea what she was doing, but she wasn’t about to admit that.  She had never been much of a ‘planning ahead’ type of person- more of a ‘jump in with the first plan that comes to mind and roll with the punches’ person.  If things went bad, she’d probably wind up doing what she did best- running in one direction and killing anyone or anything that got in her way.

For a moment, she remembered the last time she agreed to a meeting like this.  Four years ago, before she went to prison...

~~~~~

August 23rd, 2008

Newark, New Jersey

Industrial District, Abandoned Warehouse

Denise and Vladimir sat in the front seats of a beat-up cadillac, observing the warehouse they were parked in front of.

“This is the place.”

Vlad’s thick accent didn't mask his cold, stressed tone.  His hair, barely growing back after being shaved off a few months ago, had still managed to look unkempt from the stress of the past week.  His crimson turtleneck and black jacket were looking grimy- as was Denise’s attire.  Neither had changed in two days.  Too much going on to bother with that.

“I still think you should wait here,” Denise stated, nervous about the whole ordeal, “He said to come alone.”

They had been called to the warehouse by Uri Dumovitch, the head of the local mob, to negotiate a truce.  Denise had a slight edge of confidence- the 10th Street Cartel had been doing a number on the Russian mob lately, and she doubted their boss would try anything.  He had too little left and too much to lose.

“Fuck him.  He wants to see you, he has to see me too.”

Still, Vlad had insisted on coming with her.  He wound up making a big fuss about her putting herself in harm’s way, and how Uri was dangerous, and on and on and on.  She wasn’t about to argue with him, especially this close to their wedding, so in the end she agreed to let Vlad come.

Denise turned her gaze to the Russian, smiling slightly in spite of their situation.  Vlad was a stubborn bastard, but she didn’t hold it against him.  She knew he was just making sure she was safe.

“Thanks, baby,” she sighed, giving him a peck on the cheek before hopping out the door.  Vlad followed suit, checking the magazine on his pistol before stuffing it away under his jacket.

She inhaled deeply, trying to relax.  It wasn’t that bad- one extra guy couldn’t hurt, right?  Besides, Vlad probably knew how to approach this situation better than she did.

He was Dumovitch’s son, after all.

~~~~~

Thursday, May 1st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Garden District, Fancypants' Mansion

“Dee? You alright?”

Con was giving her a look- she had been staring off into space while he blocked off the path to the sewer from the wine cellar.

“I’m fine.  Just the M talking,” Denise replied, shaking the memory out of her head.  Reminiscing wouldn’t do her any good right now, she had to focus.

“You gotta quit the morphine, Dee,” Con sighed with a shake of his head, “Shit’ll kill you.”

“Con, can we not have this conversation now?  Or ever?”

Con rolled his eyes, giving in.

“I swear to god, I’m gonna have an intervention one of these days,” he mumbled, starting down the stairs.

The duo headed down into the sewers, holding a pair of lanterns aloft with their magic.  Neither had bothered with their disguises for the meeting- their new friends were changelings too, after all.  As they descended, Denise took a moment to examine the sewer in more detail than she had ten days ago- though the only thing she seemed to have missed her first time down there was just how horrible the smell was.

“So...” Con sighed slowly, “Did your guy tell you where to go?  Because mine just said the sewers.”

“Same,” Denise stated simply, “My guess is they’ll-”

“Find you?”

The duo spun around, alarmed.  Behind them stood two changelings, both blue-eyed, one obviously younger than the other.  Strangely, the older of the two actually seemed nerve-wracked, while the youngster held an air of contempt about him.

“It was fairly obvious, considering you’ve been staying in the same place for over a week,” explained the young changeling.

“Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” gasped Conrad, still alarmed by the changelings’ sudden appearance.

The changelings said nothing.  Instead, the young changeling motioned for them to follow, walking past them and into the sewers.  Con, Denise, and the adult changeling followed in silence.

“Well, considering you two already know us,” Denise asked, trying to break the ice, “you mind telling us who the hell you are?”

“The same ones who spoke to you before.  In case you’ve forgotten, my name is Swap-Out,” hissed the youngster, “And don’t be mistaken- Picture here only thinks he knows who you are.”

“Whereas you do?”

“Elder Morpheus consulted the spirits about you.  Not to mention I’ve been watching you since Mirror’s gang attacked the manor.  You aren’t exactly subtle.”

Denise winced slightly.

“Yeah, I’ve never been good at that.”

Swap glanced back at Conrad and Picture, the latter of whom remained almost reverently silent.  Making sure they were both out of earshot, he slowed his pace, moving closer to Denise.

“And as for what you are...” he stated, looking into Denise's eyes, his voice dropping into a whisper.

“... I know enough, Hartman.”

Chapter 8: "A New Hive..."

-{Chapter 8: "A New Hive..."}-

~~~~~

Thursday, May 1st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Old Canterlot Sewers

“How do you know that name?”

Denise hissed the question, her suspicions reaching new heights.  Swap wasn’t making a good impression on her- playing the ‘I know you’ card wasn’t helping.

“Didn’t I just say I’ve been watching you?” Swap replied, annoyed, “And like I said, Elder Morpheus consulted the spirits.  I know what you and your friend are, Hartman, and where you come from.  The Elder refuses to tell me anything more- much to my frustration.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Denise growled, “Maybe there’s things about me you don’t want to know.”

Swap averted his gaze, focusing on the path ahead.

“Even less reason for me to like this, then.”

Swap stopped in his tracks, turning to what appeared to be a blank wall in the tunnel.

“Why’d we stop?” Conrad called from the back, eyeing their escorts warily.  Swap simply rolled his eyes, while Picture seemed to wince at his glare.

A flash of green energy came from Swap’s horn, encompassing the patch of wall in front of him.  Slowly, the wall began to shimmer, revealing an entrance similar to the one underneath Fancypants’ mansion.  Wordlessly, Swap glanced at the others and motioned for them to follow, stepping into the passageway.

The four changelings ascended a flight of stairs, before entering what may have once been a sewer access station.  However, any obvious exits aside from the one they had just come from were caved in, likely a result of the same landslide that buried the one under the mansion.

“Welcome to the Sanctuary,” Swap stated, seemingly annoyed at Denise and Con’s presence.

The Sanctuary was large- very large.  It appeared to have been expanded recently, with the paved stone walls smashed open to reveal larger, rock-walled expanses.  The room was lined with crude magical torches, illuminating the room in a yellowish light.  There were several tables and chairs set up on one side of the room, with hanging cots along the walls.

Another changeling stood in the center of the room, pacing.  Around him, several crates and barrels were stacked, and maps of Canterlot and Equestria lay spread across a central table. he turned in surprise at the group’s arrival, lowering his head slightly and stepping back.

Swap turned to Picture, scowling as usual.

“You’re dismissed.”

With a frantic and thankful nod, Picture dashed to the center of the room, starting up a hushed conversation with the third changeling.

Swap lead Denise and Conrad further, coming to a stop at the far end of the chamber.  The rock face of this wall was smoothed out, with several small candles decorating it.  There were carvings and writings Denise couldn’t read or understand across it, and a curtain lay draped over what appeared to be another passageway- this one with a pale green light emanating from within.

“Spooky,” Denise deadpanned, staring at the candlelit wall, only to receive a glare from Swap.

“Elder Morpheus is through there.  I wouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Great,” she sighed, pushing aside the curtain as she ventured forth, Conrad in tow.

The pair crawled through the cramped passageway, emerging into a domed chamber.  The same images that decorated the wall outside were carved into the walls before them now, but in much larger numbers.  They were more detailed, glyph-like, and were arranged in swirling patterns that made Denise’s head spin.

In the center of the chamber, a bright green fire burned in a small pit, illuminating the room.  A changeling sat in front of it, legs tucked underneath his body.  The changeling was different from Swap and the others- his eyes were glassy and squinted, and his carapace was cracked and worn-looking, giving him the appearance of a wrinkled old man.

The old changeling looked up from the fire, looking in the direction of the duo.

“Ah,” he croaked, with a wheezing quality to his voice, “You’ve finally arrived.”

Denise took a few tentative steps forward, Conrad in tow.  The older changeling gave them a small smile, motioning to the fire.

“Come, sit.  You’ve nothing to fear,” he chuckled dryly, “Even if I wanted to harm you, I doubt I would be able to at this age.”

‘He sounds like an eighty year old Bane,’ Denise absentmindedly thought, warily coming closer.

“Sit, please,” the changeling repeated, “I trust my apprentice didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Define trouble,” Denise muttered, slowly taking a seat across from him.

The changeling murmured in agreement, smiling.

“Swap has always been a bit brash.  Most Shamans would despise that in an apprentice.  Personally, he reminds me of myself at his age,” he chuckled.

The changeling’s expression turned more serious.

“I trust you know who I am.”

“Elder Morpheus,” Con replied, speaking up, “Not that hard to figure out.”

“And?” asked the elder, “A name is worth nothing without an identity to go with it.  I asked you who I am.”

“You’re a leader,” Denise stated simply, glaring, “The High Shaman.  The changelings out there look up to you.”

“Hmph.  Swap looks up to me,” Morpheus harrumphed, “Picture Perfect and Pose think me mad.  Rightfully so, perhaps, considering what I’ve proposed.”

Morpheus looked to Denise, and a smile once again appeared on his face.

“Though I’m sure their tune will change now that you’re here.”

Denise continued to scowl, locking eyes with the elder and contemplating his motives.

“What do you want with us?” she growled, “Why bring us here?”

“All in due time, Ms. Hartman,” croaked Morpheus, still grinning at the duo, “All in due time.”

Con snapped to attention at that comment, ears perking up.

“Hartman?!” he yelped, “Wha- How do you-”

“Yes, I know who you are, Davidson,” Morpheus interrupted, “As well as what you are.”

Slowly, Morpheus rose to stand, seemingly struggling with the act.

“Humans.  The emissaries of the Gods- or so the legends claim.  Blasphemous as it may be for me to say, when you live as long as I have, you quickly learn that such legends are often exaggerated.”

Now fully upright, Morpheus’s horn began to glow with a pale green light.  His posture seemed sickly, with his head hunched and legs bent slightly.  Slowly, a bag floated towards him, slipping open to reveal a golden powder.

“I foresaw your arrival,” he stated, blowing a small amount of the powder into the fire before him.

Suddenly, the fire flared up, sending Conrad and Denise scrambling away.  Just as quickly, though, the green fires grew calm.  Slowly, they began to twist around, taking on some kind of shape.

“The spirits spoke of it.  Showed me visions of the one who would bring you into this world.”

The flames’ colors shifted, turning white as they finally settled into a familiar shape.

A humanoid figure in a white suit and hat.

“The White One.”

Denise stared in surprise, hundreds of questions forming in her mind.

“Who is he?” she asked, turning to face the elder.

“I know not.  His true name is lost to the ravages of time, leaving behind a thousand pseudonyms in its place.  The White One, The Pale Thing, The Albino...  One particularly strange account simply refers to him as Tim.  Regardless, he is responsible.  And I believe he has a plan for you- one that involves us.”

Morpheus’s frail horn glowed once more, and the flames shifted again.  This time, they took the form of a tall, regal changeling female.  Its hair was longer than that of Denise’s, stretching down to its wings, which looked to be many times larger than hers.  Denise recognized it as the Queen of the Changelings, recalling what little knowledge she had of My Little Pony lore.

“For generations, Queen Chrysalis has ruled over our people.  A harsh, but just regime, that few objected to.  Her mother ruled before her, and her mother before them.”

Morpheus turned to the two former humans, a conspicuous look in her eyes.

“But it has not always been this way.”

Once again, the flames shifted at the Elder’s command, taking the form of several stylized changeling silhouettes- each with a different eye color.  Red, purple, green, yellow- all ends of the spectrum.

“There was a time, lost even to history, when changelings lived under many Queens, in many Hives.  Strife was frequent, but quickly resolved.  Changelings chose who they would serve, and every few generations, a new Hive rose up under a powerful Queen.”

Elder Morpheus sighed, and his expression became the slightest bit somber.  The flames danced around again, with the stylized image of Chrysalis- or perhaps a close relative- appeared among the changelings, with each changeling’s eyes slowly turning a uniform blue-green.

“But long ago, Queen Chrysalis’s dynasty set forth to conquer the other Hives.  Slowly, each rival Queen was vanquished, leaving her family in total control of our people.  This was a good thing, in many ways- wars were uncommon, and the leadership of the dynasty brought order to our society.  But the cost...”

“Let me guess,” Con interrupted, while Denise stared in awe of the magical display of flames, “potential Queens don’t live long anymore, do they?”

Morpheus nodded, his horn glowing, and the fires dying down once more.

“That, and more.  With peace and order came a good deal of new problems.  Overpopulation, for one.  Our expansion outpaced our ability to feed on the love of the outside world.  By the time Queen Chrysalis took the throne, our people were close to starving.  That’s why we invaded this nation... for the most part.”

“For the most part?” Con repeated, speaking up once again.

Morpheus harrumphed, averting his gaze and scowling.

“Many agree that the quality of our leadership has... fallen over the course of time.  Chrysalis is a prime example.  When the Dynasty began, it was a golden age for our people.  Now, our leader has single-hoofededly caused the death or abandonment of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of our best soldiers.”

Morpheus, stood shakily, his scowl intensifying.

“And for what?  How would this war have brought us the food we need?  How are we to feed on the love of a conquered people?!”

The old changeling began to cough violently.  Denise rose to her hooves, prepared to reach out to him.  Morpheus, however, simply raised a hoof in her direction, shaking his head.  Slowly, his wheezing died down, and his breathing returned to normal.

“Do not be fooled,” he sighed, taking deep breaths, “This was no just war.  No people’s cause.  This was the work of a glory hound with dreams of greatness.  A gambit to restore the Dynasty’s good name.  And it failed.”

Morpheus turned to face the duo, his visage growing calm once again.

“That is why I’m here in this sewer, instead of escaping the city.  The spirits foretold the arrival of a great Queen, who would bring forth what has not been seen since times long forgotten.  A new Hive.  They showed me visions of this Queen.”

He looked up, staring into Denise’s eyes.

“Visions of you.”

Chapter 1: It Began with a Hangover...

-{Chapter 1: It Began with a Hangover...}-

~~~~~

Monday, February 4th, 2013

Buffalo, New York

Verdant Meadows Rentals, Apt. 304

"Oi, Dee."

A voice broke the silence of Denise's pigsty of a bedroom, punctuated by a thick British accent.

"Get up."

Denise groaned, shifting slightly in the tangled mess of sheets that was her bed.  A low moan that may have at one point been a curse word escaped her mouth, muffled by her pillow.

"Come on, get up."

No response.

Conrad groaned.  It was going to be one of those mornings.

"Denise," he sighed, shaking his roommate, "Wakey-fucking-Wakey, luv."

"Screw you," came Denise's muffled response, accompanied by a limp, half-hearted swing of her arm.

"Dee, get the hell up.  We've got a big day ahead."

"Is someone gonna shoot us if I don't get up?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then go die."

Conrad groaned, rubbing his forehead in frustration.  Wordlessly, he left the room, headed for the apartment's living room.  There were several shuffling and clicking sounds, followed by a short silence.  Before long, a soft beat began to play through the apartment.  Soon afterwards, it was accompanied by a heavily-accented set of lyrics.

"Yeah I'm out that Brooklyn, now I'm down in TriBeCa,

right next to Deniro, but I'll be hood forever,

I'm the new Sinatra, and since I made it here,

I can make it anywhere, yeah, they love me everywhere,"

"Your stupid rap covers aren't gonna get me up, Con," Denise groaned through her pillow.

The music ended after a few moments.  More shuffling.  Suddenly, the sound of a harp, along with various other string instruments filled the room.

"Don't you fucking dare-"

"My little pony, my little pony!"

Conrad's singing voice took on a much softer (but just as accented) tone.

"What is friendship all about?"

"Goddamnit."

Denise scrambled out of her bed as quickly as she could in her sickly state, rolling off and impacting on the floor with a painful thud.  She pulled herself from the floor, eyes scrunched into a narrow squint, and clutched her head in one hand, steadying herself against the wall with the other.  A quick glance at her watch established the time of day as 10:43 AM, far too early for Denise to be awake on a Monday.

"Fine, I'm up," she moaned, "just quit it with the pony shit..."

"C'mon, you know you love it!"

"Not when I'm coming off a high, you prick."

Soon, Denise had found her way to the living room.  After much swearing and debate regarding Denise's opinion of My Little Pony, which Conrad adored, he finally agreed to turn off the music.  Denise wold never admit it, but she did find the show to be a silly, but fun way of winding down after a long day.

The two were an odd pair.  Neither of them seemed compatible- Denise was an angry morphine junkie and Conrad was a British-American slacker, but they got along.  Perhaps it was their shared distaste for a 'normal' life that made them tolerate eachother.  Perhaps it was money that kept them together.  No matter the reason, they had managed to survive in a lower-class neighborhood teetering on ghetto status, and that's what was important.

It was only when the pair had begun eating their breakfast for the day (toast and leftover fried chicken) that it occurred to Denise that Con would only want her awake so early for a reason.

"So what exactly is so 'big' about today?"

"Well," smiled Conrad, "For once in our time spent together we actually have money to spend."

That gave Denise pause.

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

"What about the rent?"

"Taken care of," he grinned, taking his now-empty plate to the mountain of unwashed dishes that was their sink.

"Debts?  We still owe Reggie for that thing with the cookies."

Conrad winced at the thought of the infamous Cookie Incident.

"Surprisingly, that's taken care of too."

"... Wow. I'm actually impressed, Con."

"I know," he replied with a shudder, "I was worried Reggie'd have us killed for that."

Denise let out a small guffaw, "No, genius, I mean we actually managed to get off our lazy asses long enough to get some real paper."

Denise finished her plate, returning it to Mt. Unwashed, "So what exactly do you have in mind for it?"

Con leaned against the kitchenette's counter with a smirk.  "Well, the smart thing would be to put it in a bank account and save it up.  Thing is, we're morons, so I figure we could just take it and see how quickly we can blow through it all."

Denise chuckled, "Sounds good to me."

~~~~~

Monday, February 4th, 2013

Buffalo, New York

Big Jim's Bar

They were very good at wasting money.

The duo sat at opposite ends of the bar, each sporting a set of new clothes that would likely be covered in a layer of sweat and grime by the end of the month.  Conrad sported a spiffy (in his own words) Blue-and-white letterman jacket and grey fedora, while Denise had opted for a simple, crimson down jacket and faded purple blouse- the same color scheme she always seemed to wear.  They had even gotten their hair done up, with Conrad's scraggly head of hair cropped into a short, neat style and Denise's in a modest, but presentable ponytail.

When the day was over and the sun had set, they found to their surprise that they had not, in fact, used all of their surplus cash.  Naturally, this called for a drinking binge, followed by Denise sneaking off to feed her addiction in a back-alley.  Things hadn't quite progressed that far yet, but they almost assuredly would.

Conrad was chatting up a young, blonde woman in trashy, but stylish clothes- the kind of person who throws money around like confetti, but still dresses like a skank and hangs out in sleazy parts of town on the weekends because they want to feel 'dangerous'.

"I tell you, luv, the drinks here are good, but they're nothing compared to what we've got in Manchester..."

"Con, you were born in Queens!"

The blondie let out a cackle at Denise's sudden interjection, while Conrad merely gave a scowl in her direction.

"I was born on a flight to Queens! That makes me British!"

"Oh, it's fine," slurred Blondie, happily drunk at this point, "You're still cute."

Denise rolled her eyes and motioned for the bartender to bring her another round of scotch.

Time passed, and the bar slowly came to life, save for Denise, who sat in roughly the same spot, still drinking her scotch.  Conrad had taken Blondie off to the recently-repaired karaoke machine, and was merrily rapping along to a Kanye West hit while the girl giggled and leaned against him.

"I know it's been a while,

Sweetheart, we hard-ly talk, I was doin' my thing,

I know I was foul bay-bay,

a-bay late-lay you been all on my brain,

And if somebody woulda told me a month ago,

Frontin' though, yo I wouldn't wanna know..."

Meanwhile, a few more patrons had arrived- nobody of particular interest, just the usual hoods that came in every night to laugh and forget about how bad their lives really were.  There were a few louder patrons- and not just angry drunks.  No, these morons were genuine assholes, spray-tanned, hair-dyed ghetto 'rich kids'.  Probably criminals.  From the way they were talking, Denise suspected they might even be Mafia children; just grown-up enough to act like tough guys but not enough to realize it's their parents who have the real power.

"Fuck you staring at, you dumb broad?"

Damnit.  She shouldn't have stared too long.  Smart thing to do would be to mumble an apology and get back to drinking.

"Just a bunch of loudmouthed pricks who don't know when to fuck off."

'Smooth move Denise,' she admonished herself, 'Smooth move.'

"Excuse me?"

The leader of the pack came forward, flanked by the rest of his goons, "I don't appreciate skanks like you tellin' me to fuck off."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she cooed, sarcasm practically dripping from her mouth, "let me rephrase that- Why don't you and your goons take your funny-lookin', roid-ravaged dicks, shove 'em up your stupid, spray-tanned, guido asses, and fuck off!"

That certainly got his attention.  Along with the rest of the bar.  Even Conrad had dropped what he was doing, abandoning his rapping to focus on the scuffle.

"Damnit, Dee... Hey, er, wait here a second, luv?"

With that, he eased Blondie into a nearby chair and rushed to his companion.

"You better take that back, bitch," the head punk growled, "you better take it back!"

"Or what?" Denise replied with guffaw, "You think you're hard?  You ain't shit compared to the assholes I had to deal with back in Newar-"

Before she could finish her thought, she was interrupted by a fist impacting with her face.  Denise fell to her knees, clutching her nose, from which a slight trickle of blood flowed.

"OI!"

The head goon turned to Conrad, who was approaching quickly.  The kid instinctually reached into his hoodie.

"You want some too, fuckface?!"

Gasps arose around the bar.  The dumb kid had drawn a revolver, and held it level to Conrad's head.

"Woah, Leon, take it easy man..."

The crew muttered nervous warnings and assurances, but their words were ignored.

"No, no, fuck these assholes!  Nobody fucks with Leon Dibenedetto!  Nobo-"

The tables were turned in a New York minute.  In the blink of an eye, Denise shot up from the floor and grabbed hold of the goon, 'Leon Dibenedetto' apparently, kneeing him square in the stomach and wresting the gun from his hands.  As he doubled over in surprise, Denise took the opportunity to make a punch of her own, delivering an uppercut to his face with the barrel of the pistol.  Shoving him towards his cronies, she raised the gun.

The punks let out a series of surprised yelps, helping their leader to his feet and  slowly backing towards the door.  In the confusion, Conrad had drawn his own weapon, a small .22 pistol he kept for emergencies, and kept it aimed squarely at Dibenedetto's head.

"Yeah, you better run," Denise growled, "Because if I see you here again, I'll splatter your brains on the FUCKING BAR!"

"You're gonna regret this, you little bitch!"

The crew scuttled out the door, making threats as they went along.

Slowly, Denise and Conrad calmed down, lowering their guns.  Conrad turned to Denise, and was just about to berate her for recklessness, when they were interrupted by the sound of clapping.

"Bravo, my friends!  Bravo!"

A pale man in a spotless white suit sauntered over to the pair, slowly clapping all the while, "I have to admit, you two have quite the talent."

His voice was soft and effeminate- unnervingly so.  The kind of voice that you'd expect from the devil when he's pitching you a deal involving your soul.

"Oh, where are my manners?" the stranger chuckled, feigning embarrassment, "Can I offer you two a drink?"

The duo's responses were simultaneous...

"Bugger it, why not?"

"Fuck do you want?"

... If not identical.

"Straight to business, I see?  I like that.  Please, take a seat," he cooed, motioning to his table, "Mr. Davidson?  If you could get the drinks?  Just put it on my tab."

Conrad shrugged, just tipsy enough not to question how the man knew his name, and Denise warily took a seat across from the man.

"You know Conrad?"

"I know a lot about both of you, Ms. Hartman," the man replied, "You could say I've done my homework."

Denise was getting uncomfortable. "Homework on what?"

"Well, you see, I'm on sort of a... Recruiting mission, if you will; looking for individuals who meet a certain criteria, and you just happen to fit the bill."

"How so?"

"Well, where do I begin?" he offered, pausing as if he were pondering, "Ex-convict, living in a slum... Well, those are nice benefits, but what really interests me is your past.  Racketeering, gang-related violence, several murders...  It's a wonder you got off with only two years."

"Yeah, well, I have connections," she responded.

"Ah, yes, Troy Masterson.  The corrupt DEA agent that so generously helped you out..." the man paused for a moment, "But that's the thing, isn't it?"

Denise remained silent, prompting him to continue.

"Agent Masterson has a spotless record, and I do mean spotless.  Sure, there's the occasional bit of misconduct that one would expect from any officer of the law, but he was never corrupt.  Then you came along, and he broke every rule he could to keep you out of prison, simply because he owed you a favor."

The man gave a sinister grin, leaning over the table.

"That's what I'm looking for.  Heaven knows, there's plenty of people just like you, but they're all dead or in prison, and for a good reason.  You can make connections.  You're that kind of person that no decent human being could stab in the back.  Why?  I have no idea.  But it's there.  And that's what I need."

"Need for what?" Denise growled with an equal mix of confusion, distress, and anger, "and what about Con?"

"Conrad?  He's like you, in a way- he hasn't had the opportunity to express that talent as... Magnificently as you, but it's there.  And from what I've heard, the two of you make for quite the dynamic duo."

There was a silence between the two.  Denise was deep in thought, wondering what exactly was going on.  Things were happening too fast.

"Oi!  I'm back," Conrad called out, "and I have drinks!"

"What are you?" she asked, ignoring her companion, "FBI? DEA?"

The man looked surprised, then, to Denise's Frustration, began laughing.

"Oh, heavens, no!" he chuckled, "Believe me, I'm nobody important.  I'm offering you a job, both of you, that's all."

"A... Job? What?" Conrad asked, confused by the lack of context, "Dee, what's going on?"

"Look, just hear me out," the mysterious stranger continued, "I can offer you a new beginning in a beautiful locale, with all travel expenses covered.  I'm afraid I can't be more specific than that unless you agree, and I won't ask twice.  If you say no, I leave, and you never hear from me or my... associates... again.  What do you say?"

Denise was shocked to say the least.  This deal sounded good- too good. She felt like she was selling her soul to the devil, and it made her uncomfortable.  Still, what did she have to lose?  She was practically a crack bum, spending what little money she managed to save for herself on morphine.  No other opportunities were available to her- she knew she'd never get an offer like this again.  But it still felt wrong- like something out of a horror movie.  Hell, Denise didn't even remember seeing the guy walk in.  She needed more time, she needed to-

"Fucking brilliant, man!  Sign us up!"

Conrad made the decision for her, like he had many times in the past.

The stranger smirked a smug smirk, eyes lighting up with glee.

"Well, alright then."

Wait.  That wasn't glee....

His eyes really were lighting up.

"Woah, hey, I never said-"

Denise never got to finish her sentence.  With a flash, the entire group disappeared from the bar.  The bartender would never remember the encounter clearly, simply recalling a brief brawl between a few street punks and little more.  It was business as usual in Big Jim's Bar for the rest of the night.

All the while, a drunken blonde girl sat by the karaoke machine, wondering what had happened to that charming Brit from earlier, never having noticed what had transpired...