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                The Last Changeling Commune                
                       -by GIR_336-                        
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                     An Old Beginning                      
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Author's Note
If it's in parenthesis, it's a translation.
An Old Beginning
Near the northern border of Equestria along the outskirts of the Crystal Empire’s capital, a single cloaked equine-creature slowly makes its way slowly through the breast high snow. As it nears the bare base of a short cliff, a hole opens for the short amount of time required for the figure to enter and escape the unforgiving snow torrents.
Inside the hidden tunnels, the snow quickly starts to melt off, further revealing the dark blue cloak with only a hornless riot-mask showing under. As the figure discards the cloak to the side, it reveals the makeshift armour now shinning from the melted snow strapped on top of a soaking jacket.
However, the moistness does not bother the creature whom is covered in a natural suit of black chitin. Rather, this Changeling is relieved that it had served its purpose of keeping him warm through his trek and for blending with the locals.
Well, as blended as one can be when wearing a black jacket of two centuries past style and armour made of scrap metal.
Luckily, the ponies he had blended in with were holding a large gathering to show their love for a story based in an apocalyptic world, so nopony batted an eye at the armoured “pony” who’s riot-mask had a slight blue glow behind the eyes. Despite the fact that many a-ponies had gone missing last seeing this armour, for ironically this Changeling could not change shape due to damage received during the Siege of Canterlot. Those who went missing though, were never seen in the act, and didn’t raise many concerns in their disappearance.
Looking up in the entry chamber, the Changeling took into mind the only Ponish carvings allowed in the hidden outpost, “Ex Uno Multa”. Those words were once spoken by the Legionaries of Nightmare Moon centuries ago when put on trial for their treason. The pronunciation itself meant “out of one, many”, but the armoured Changeling felt it fit much better with his Changelings. All Changelings in this outpost knew those words by lack of heart and were instructed to yell them when charging an opponent in an open assault, or when facing certain death if it were to come to that.
Walking forward, the wall under the carved words opened an entry hole for the Changeling, granting access to a chamber with two halls above and below each other. The one hall straight, required the ability to fly or walk anywhere but the floor for entry. The other goes almost straight down, again requiring the ability to fly or traverse walls. No point in allowing intruders easy passage after all.
On the flanks of both of these halls were more chambers and halls with holes opening and closing in chaotic rhythms which would make no sense to any not plugged into the hivemind of the outpost.
Just as the armoured Changeling was about to make his way down to the hivemind stone, a voice from caught his attention.
“Comrade Captain Breakheart, I see that you are back.” Said a Changeling drone coming through a wall to the right of where Breakheart had entered.
“Comrade Gaster,” replied Breakheart, “what is it you need me for?”
“I just wanted to make sure your scouting mission went well, comrade captain.”
“It was just as well as any others, but there’s always that one pony who doesn’t stop about how my outfit doesn’t match the Neighvada Rangers exactly as described by the author ‘Dojj’.”
“Oh, are they all that annoying, comrade captain?”, asked Gaster, never having blended in with ponies before.
“No, but their love does taste odd, slightly sweaty. And very hard to syphon from the air.”
Captain Breakheart started down the vertical hall with Gaster soon following in tow. After a couple of paces, Breakheart got the feeling that Gaster was now staring at his flank with the jacket’s swallow-tail awkwardly flipping over his back due to gravity.
“Aren’t all those straps around your legs uncomfortable, comrade captain?”, Gaster finally asked.
“You get used to it.” Said Captain Breakheart half-heartedly, “Just like with sucking love from the air, it’s not satisfying at first, but you forget about it when it saves your life.”
“Oh. Are you ever worried that any ponies will recognize it from our attacks, comrade captain?”
“Not as long as we let none escape. And it doesn’t hurt that we only go after Crystal Nationalists camps.”, Captain Breakheart replied, recalling how that group only seemed to cause hate. “Besides, even if it were Celestia herself bringing the Sun down on them, they’d still blame the Soviet Equines’ Party.”
“They won’t even recognize our banner you wear, comrade captain?” As Gaster was referencing the small versions of the Tri-Bars-&-Martyr attached to Breakheart’s front leg armour.
“Of course, not they’ll only see the top red bar, they probably don’t even notice the blue or green ones. Not until they awake here.”
After all, even the Crystal Nationalists’ pride and blood lust could feed the Changelings. Even if it tasted sour enough to cause some Changelings to gag.
“Speaking of the ponies’ petty arguments, I still can’t believe we are allying with the Soviets. And now that I think of it, basing this outpost off of them.”, Gaster questioned as the two were nearly half way down the vertical hall, “oh uh, Comrade captain.”
“We are not quite allies, we just have a common enemy. We then adopted their structures as it works well to keep us all running, considering our lack of supplies coming in. Plus, you don’t need to say, ‘comrade captain’ to me every sentence.” Breakheart said, not knowing how many times he had made those statements.
“Oh, apologies. Lieutenant Zhelezo wanted me to respond to him as such. I just assumed you would want the same.”
Stopping mid-wall to give Gaster a life’s lesson, Breakheart explained, “You know what they say when one ‘assumes’,” Gaster turned his head away knowing the second part all too well, “Besides, Lieutenant Zhelezo is insane, I keep him in the position because he happens to be a decent warrior. And between us”, Breakheart paused while turning his body to be able to lean almost mask to face with Gaster, “he scares the flames out of me.”
Returning to his walk down the hall Breakheart continued, “Just don’t let him take control after me, got it?”
“Understood, thank you com-. Uh, Breakheart” Gaster corrected with a slight smile. “And there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
“And that is?”, Breakheart, slightly annoyed, responded.
“Why are you still wearing that mask and helmet, nopony can get in and we all know your you’re a Changeling.”
Letting a sad sigh out, “Because what is a Changeling without its horn.” Then turning his head, and deepening his voice, Breakheart continued, “Besides, it looks more intimidating than my cut-up face.”
“So, what are you going to do if somepony at those conventions recognizes your armour?”
“We just had this talk, they won’t. Besides, the Crystal Nationalists have a way of getting kicked out for ‘disruption of the peace’. Turns out ponies don’t like it when some are insulting others constantly.”
“But on the off chance something does happen?”
“Then I’m wearing a full suit of armour, against those who only read and dream about adventures. Just don’t worry you little head, I’ll burn that bridge if we get there.”
As they neared the end of the hallway Gaster excused himself to a room on the left which had been the mission planning room of the recently missing third in command, Nakts Nodenviba; a red eyed Changeling who like Breakheart, also had a damaged horn preventing shape shifting. And often hidden by his black jacket was that both were wingless. His disappearance was so recent, Breakheart himself didn’t even know he was gone yet.
“Where do you think you’re going?”, asked Breakheart sharply.
“Have you not heard, Second-Lieutenant Nakts went missing last night. I’m just checking if he left any clues. He was always a fan of puzzles after all.”
Entering the room filled to the brim with maps and report scrolls surrounding or covering a central stone table, one could tell someone here enjoyed collecting information. If there was a clue, it would take an obvious plot convenience to find.
However, one rolled up map on the cluttered table did draw Breakheart’s attention. On the side on it was, in burning red, written, ‘|_\ |_| ~\ `- | > =’ (Surhive), the name Nakts had proposed for the commune. Admittedly, it was one of his little ‘play on words’ he always did.
Opening the conveniently marked map, revealed a single ruin in the centre of a map of Equestria. Oddly it was just the ruin ‘3’ (B) just South-West of Canterlot, the capitol which all in the commune vowed to send crashing down that mountain. But with Nakts gone, bringing the outpost numbers down to 193 Changelings, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.
Turning towards the hallway-side wall and walking close enough to create an entry way, Breakheart gave a final order to Gaster.
“Looks like he’s gone south towards the ponies’ main capitol, but we don’t have the numbers to support him. So, go back to doing something productive”
Walking out, then down, Breakheart traversed the rest of the way until the floor opened in front of him.
Finally, in the bottom-most chamber of the outpost, Breakheart took off his mask and let out a slight sigh of relief for being able to just be alone, for this chamber could only be opened by the recognized leader for it held the stone powering the district’s hivemind. Indeed, it was basically the same principle of Chrysalis’ old throne. And seeing how that turned out with easy access, all remaining loyal outposts were given orders to defend their district’s stone at all costs.
The one before Breakheart was a metre-wide meteorite which had a fair amount of copper buried inside and belong to what was known in the Changeling kingdom as D.C., ‘Distract Cold’. Other districts would be formed by possessing either their native rocks, other meteorites, or in extreme cases with rocks brought from Changeling-controlled lands. The only requirement was for there to be copper within then rock, as it is an element able to be a conduit of Changeling magic and anti-magic into the surrounding area.
Although, as far as Breakheart was aware, D.C. was the last Changeling outpost still loyal to the Swarm’s method of stealing love to feed its own kind. The rest had gone silent, in worst case possibly turn-coating.
Speaking with a slight lisp caused by his tongue having been slashed in the past but hidden by the mask, Breakheart monologued to the rock, “The natural order of things was perfect, but they forgot to read the old manuscripts and focused more on the building structures. And if only Thorax knew what he was leading them all to. Doesn’t he know this had happened in the past? The ponies betrayed us then, just as they will now! But no! No one bucking remembers! By the fires of Tartarus, Chrysalis probably didn’t even remember.” Continuing in a built-up fury, “Well, let them go to Tartarus! Those traitors, those cowards, those uneducated! We came back once, we’ll rise back AGAIN!”, then taking a deep breath to regain his composer, “I’m yelling at a rock. Well, by this rock I swear that My Swarm will stay safe. And as one We will re-right the wrongdoings done to the natural order.”
Then, in the ground in front of him, he carved with his hooved ungues a seven-point star with crossed swords flanked by the wings he had lost long ago.
Stepping back to examine his work, Breakheart exclaimed in a lack of breath, “This will be our battle flag, and it will one day fly over our lost hive. And you’ll bear witness to it. Ex Uno Multa.”

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                     Of Cats and Mice                      
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Of Cats and Mice
{\_2 months later_/}
Nopony ever sees an attack coming on a quiet moonless night. Well, suspect it; yes. However, the Crystal Nationalists didn't see the hundred and half army converging in on the town turned prison-camp.
They especially didn't realize as one-by-one the white-masked guards outside of the building were gag and tied by the Changelings.
Within a matter of minutes, the 18 guards outside were no longer able to hurt anypony else, but there were still more inside of the 10 cabins which were huddled in a circle close to each other.
This would work well for a new tactic about to be tried out; that being to smoke them out. Indeed, it was a cruel plan only Lieutenant Zhelezo could think of and involved lighting the end of a building on fire and pouncing on those who run out to escape the flames.
As Captain Breakheart started to get into position in front of the centremost, and largest, cabin he could hear what sounded like a mare begging for her life.
Just as soon as he pieced together what was happening the Pyro-Changelings lit the far ends in a demonic green flame. Meanwhile, much panic was heard from within the cabins.
In a mater of seconds, out poured several dozen stallions in white robes, tripping over one another to escape the flames. Soon though, they realized that they were out of the fire, and into the fangs as the Armoured Changelings converged on the Nationalists with numbers 3-to-1.
Breakheart, however, had instead barrelled into the building, slamming a more skeletal stallion into the doorframe, to get inside. There he saw the mutilated corpses of several non-crystal ponies laying in a pile in front of three terrified Earth-pony mares.
“Get out, all of you!” Breakheart yelled through his riot mask, now filtering out the smoke.
To this, the mares simply responded by looking at the shackles binding their back right legs to the floor.
Thinking now of how to free them while the battle raged outside, Breakheart frantically scanned the room. Until his eyes rested on a bloodied lumberjack’s axe, no doubt dropped by a Nationalist whose torturing scene had been interrupted by the fire. Running over and picking up the axe in his front legs, Breakheart then had to awkwardly walk back on his hind legs.
And with the forward momentum, *Thud*, went the axe as in came down on the first pony’s chains, shattering a link to allow a disconnection.
Now the second pony’s turn, the building was now starting to really take flame. *Thud*, but the chain didn’t shatter. So, with the swinging strength of one now in a panic, *Thud*, and a link of the chain shattered allowing the second pony to escape.
By then, the building was starting to groan and hiss, threatening to fall at any moment.
With a swing at the third pony’s chains, *clink*. The axe bounced with little affect. Once again, in a panicked strength Breakheart swung and, *clink*. It was clear that the axe was no longer sharp enough to start a split through metal, but…
“It has to be your leg!” Breakheart shouted to the chained pony.
“W-What?” came her natural response.
“Either we burn here alive trying to break this chain, or I sever it from the knee.”
“Are you insane?”
But the cracking noise from the ceiling answered her question.
“Just do it quick.” she finally commanded.
Summoning all his strength, Breakheart swung the axe through the soft tendon between the bones and into the wood floor. The mare let out a pained scream but was already being tossed onto Breakheart’s back and heading towards the door.
Just a few feet from the door the mare then shouted to Breakheart, “Wait, there’s a little filly who hid in that closet there.” She was now pointing at an inconspicuous looking closet narrowly avoiding the growing flames.
Almost, throwing the mare out of the door and running at a break-neck speed, where Breakheart did indeed find a little tan filly crying her face into a somewhat-stuffed bear. Even in his rush, he could see that she didn’t even have a ‘cutie mark’ which most ponies seemed to have on their flanks.
Throwing her over his back, Breakheart rushed towards the door. But as the building let out its first gasp of pain, the entire front half collapsed, blocking any conventual exit.
“Oh, that’s original! What’s next? Fade to black for sponsors?” Breakheart yelled at seemingly nothing before realizing the filly on his back wasn’t breathing steadily.
In panic for the little filly in the thick smoke, Breakheart took off his mask and put it on the filly as she would need clean air more at this point. Then an exit idea glistened with the light of the moon through the thickening smoke. Picking the filly awkwardly in the bend of his neck, Breakheart ran as fast as his armoured legs could towards the promising angel-blue light. And with a leap, he turned his body around in the air to go crashing through a window, back first.
As Breakheart burrowed into the mud, he could feel several small pieces of glass cut into his back. Making it quite obvious that his jacket wasn’t completely cut-proof. Importantly though, the little filly seemed safe, with her head pressed into his chest. Although she was trembling from fear, an unfortunate side effect of war.
“You’re all Changelings?” a voice spat to Breakheart’s left.
Turning his head to look, Breakheart saw that it was one of the mares which he had rescued, this one in particular a deep blue with a gold pitcher for a cutie mark.
Breakheart then remembered where he was, what was happening, and who he was. Soon, he realized that he was surrounded by confused armoured Changelings, tied and beat Nationalists, and the three restrained mares.
Putting the filly of the ground and standing up himself, Breakheart responded in a commanding voice to hide his lisp, “Yes we’re Changelings, and thanks to us you’re not a pile of ash. As for these white-cloaks,” he said waving a leg towards a group of tied Nationalists, “they are why we are here. Because the less hate they cause, the better all our lives are, and I think you’re friends in that building,” he now was booming and pointing at the collapsing wreckage he had just escaped from, “would say that we didn’t come soon enough!”
All were quiet at this, and it wasn’t until Lieutenant Zhelezo went up to Captain Breakheart that the Changelings started commanding the captured Nationalists into a two a-breast line to escort back to outpost D.C.
“Comrade Captain we are not here to save ponies.” Whispered Zhelezo harshly, “Don’t you know how confusing it is for the drones when their leader goes missing in a fight and out pop a bunch of mares who don’t want to be around either side? And it’s not like we can let them get away.”
“That is not your place Lieutenant, you are the hawk of our counsel for the reason of your war tactics. When I want your opinion when it comes to casual murder then I will come and get you myself. Until then, just remember in that little brain of yours, that you are not a non-military leader.” Breakheart growled back, “now go lead your flock there and stick to your formations.”
“Excus-,” Zhelezo started.
“Dismissed!” Breakheart barked and walked away before Zhelezo could finish.
It was towards the three mares that Breakheart walked to. In the non-smoky moon-light, Breakheart could make them out specifically. There was the before mentioned blue pony with a pitcher cutie mark, a crimson pony with a bronze scythe as her cutie mark, and supported between them was the three and a half leg grass green pony who had the symbol of the kois as her cutie mark. He soon had a small feeling of relief when he saw a Changeling mending the necessary wound.
“Making sure she won’t bleed out on us I see?” Breakheart said as playfully as he could while still being serious.
“Yes sir. Luckily these Nationalists are basically walking bandages.” Responded the medical Changeling.
It was now that Breakheart realized that the Changeling was indeed using a ripped white cloak to wrap the wound, and that he wasn’t even a trained medic.
“Private Gusog? What are you doing tending to the wounded; I didn’t even know you knew how to heal others.” Breakheart said in mild disbelief.
“I don’t really know aidments sir, but all the medics were busy with our own and it seemed simple what they were doing. Also,” Gusog chuckled, “your lisp is acting up again.”
At that, Breakheart could feel an embarrassed heat rise into his ears at this calling out of the lisp. In truth, it really wasn’t noticeable, but it really set him off.
“Oh, so the big bad Changeling can’t speak properly?” the crimson pony snarked unsubtly.
Annoyed at the ungrateful ponies, Breakheart ordered in a voice to hide his lisp, “Private Gusog, tie those three together. And keep an eye on them during the escort.”
Just as Breakheart had turned and started to leave, Gusog asked a question which sent a chill down his spine, “What about the filly sir?”
Breakheart had almost forgotten about the little one and started scanning all around, but then he felt a slight pat on his back left leg. As it turned out she had following close behind, still wearing his mask and a singed toy bear on her back.
“I think she’ll be fine.” Breakheart answered, hiding a smile.
The trip from the outpost to the town took only half an hour, but with prisoners dragging their hoofs along it could take several hours. This was not the Communes first POW drive; they had learned how to cover tracks and keep even the most resistant in line.
As, Breakheart watched this white train surrounded by its black guard from atop a nearby hill, he still couldn’t believe how compliant the filly still wearing his mask was. In fact, it was more than just compliant, rather borderline loyal as she did her best to stick to his flank. All without making a sound.
Then he felt a small bump again his leg. Looking down he noticed her swaying from exhaustion. Now considering that she possibly had not slept for day, was trotting along in this trek, and it being near the end of the night, it was no wonder that she was giving out. Unfortunately, there was not much he could do, still having a few shards of glass in his back.
Tapping her shoulder, Breakheart spoke, breaking the silence, “Come now little one, it’s not too far now.”
On they marched, where along the way most Nationalists had learned that any escape effort was futile. Until at last they reached the cliff which hid the entrance to the Commune.
With the entrance open, the Nationalists saw the carved words “Ex Uno Multa” above, though most thought it was a magical ruin as few knew any older ponish phrases. However, instead of going straight to the main halls, they were lead to the right were a thin spiraling slope opened. This hall, just wide enough for two ponies abreast to walk was made that way to prevent any from turning tail. It was also made tall enough so the Changeling guards could walk on the ceiling to keep the prisoners in line.
At the end of the spiraling slope was an opening to a large chamber. In this chamber, the Nationalists were separated into two groups.
The first group was comprised of those who caused less trouble on the trek. They were sent forward to work on an underground farm, called the “Collective”, which supplies food to the prisoners. As well as supply the Changelings with bartering and crafting materials. After all, no one can build an army in an unforgiving region without outside trade. There are also other trees that produced small mustard seeds that the Changelings would use in a mix in order to transfer siphoned love to all.
This mixture itself is a combination of love, crushed onion, mustard seed, and vegetable oil. Which while it is quite the bitter pill for many, its taste is similar to love drained directly from a pony.
As for the second group, they were sent to another chamber to the right. In this chamber, the Nationalists are put into a mind-numbing coma and wrapped into large cocoons which lined the ceiling of the chamber. From here, the Changelings would ‘milk’ the love from the ponies in the cocoons to be distributed among the Commune’s members in the before mentioned mixture.
But Breakheart wasn’t concerned with these matters, and in fact he didn’t take pleasure in it at all. Instead he would use the little filly as an excuse to get away from this process.
As Breakheart entered the outpost behind the last Nationalist, he heard a voice all too familiar.
“Captain Breakheart, it is good to see you all back.” Said Gaster, “OH, um, you seem to have some glass in your back.”
“Hardly even noticed,” Breakheart replied, “Luckily we aren’t naturally unprotected like the ponies.”
“Right, gotta love chitin. Who’s that?” Gaster asked, now looking at the filly.
“I found myself a little assistant in the raid. And…” Breakheart continued with a sudden thought in his head, “I could use your aid to carry her around. At least until I get this glass out of my back.”
“Of course, comrade.” Gaster answered, then to the filly, “Come and hop on ‘little assistant’.” At this he laid down to which the filly went over and got on his back. Then standing up, “Huh, she’s light. Those Nationalists must have starved her.”
“We’ll get her some food after we settle her somewhere to rest. Now follow me, and make sure she doesn't fall off your back.”
Forward they went, through an opening that was under the carved ponish phrase.
Approaching the main halls, Breakheart instructed Gaster to hover down the vertical wall towards his chambers. The chamber itself was located right before the floor entrance of the district’s stone, should the need of him being a last line of defense be required. Inside, the chamber was a fairly decent sized room with several Changeling scrolls scattered in sporadic piles and a desk made from the side of a wall to the right of the entrance. This was covered with candles whose wax told the tale of many late nights of studying or planning. As for bedding, Breakheart used the modest nesting done by drones which in itself amounted to pressed straw and long grass.
“Put her on the nest and get Medic Stitches to come get this glass out of my back. And tell him to bring something for the filly to eat.” Breakheart commanded.
Putting the already sleeping filly on the nest, Gaster could help but ask, “Where will you sleep?
“Until we get something for her, I’ll just sleep on the floor here by the hall.”
“Alright. Although, I know it’s not really my place to question, but why is she staying with you instead of working the Collective?”
“Something tells me she’s more than just another drone for us, but either way she wouldn't be doing much in her condition.”
“Yes, but what would Lieutenant Zhelezo say?”
At this Breakheart’s blood stopped and started to simmer, after all Zhelezo was too busy keeping the Nationalists in line to even notice that the filly was still with him. And seeing how he acted with Breakheart saving the three mares…
“Then I’ll tell him that he can place his concern in my complaint box which is conveniently located in Tartarus. I swear, he’s been more aggressive ever since Nakts left.” Breakheart said to Gaster, who was inching towards the exit.
“Yeah,” said Gaster catching on, “why did Nakts leave anyway?”
“I’m not sure, and I've been looking at all his maps and notes recently. All I know is he left a “B” on a place known as “Ponyville”. But this is beside the current objective, so would you kindly go get Medic Stitches and tell him to come down with some apples.”
“Yes sir!” Gaster said springing into action and buzzing out of the chamber.[/pre]
Now alone, Breakheart trotted over to his stone desk and lit a candle with a match from a box he had looted several months ago. Even with years of practice, it still felt odd not being able to manipulate objects with a horn and instead relying on his ungues alone.
Taking off his helmet to keep from over straining his neck Breakheart remembered that his mask was still on the filly. One could only imagine how it would feel sleeping all night with it on.
Walking towards the sleeping filly, Breakheart tried to think of how to get it off without waking her. The straps were magically enchanted, so the wearer could command it off with ease, but with the current wearer asleep the straps would have to be manually undone.
So, after taking off his front leg armour and going up to the nest, Breakheart worked carefully to disconnect the strap buckles one by one. Had he had his horn this would be a breeze, but once again, he was reminded of the hardships faced without horned magic.
However, after what felt like an eternity of unbuckling the mask and pausing whenever the filly shifted, he was ready for the hard part; getting it off. Gently lifting her head up; Breakheart did his best to pry the mask off her face without disrupting her.
The entire time reminded him of when he had to pry an arrow-head out of the chest of a fellow Changeling. Unfortunately, the tip got too close to his heart and the Changelings veins soon ran dry. Fortunately, this time, the operation wasn’t medical, but it didn’t stop the screams in Breakheart’s head. But in a little less than a minute, the mask was off.
Then Breakheart saw it. The reason the filly was so quiet, and possibly pleased to be with an enemy of the Crystal Nationalists. Her mouth had been sewn shut. Upon a second reconfirming glance, the edges of her mouth were also cut to produce a scarred smile.
Breakheart’s mind started racing on how to find who did this and of what to do to such a creature.
“Captain Breakheart?” a voice from behind came and snapped him out from his mind, “I came to get the glass from your back.”
“Medic Stitches, your timing couldn’t have been anymore of an ex Machina moment. And forget the glass for now this filly needs you more!” Breakheart said moving aside to show the medic Changeling. Whose eyes widened at the sight of the filly.
“What kind of monster would do that to its own kind, a child no less.” Stitches said in disgusted wonder.
“The kind we declared war on. Now can you fix her without waking her?” Breakheart anxiously asked.
“I can, but I’ll need to put her under anesthesia for that, and the pain of course. But her scars will not be undoable.” Stitches said with professional calmness, then looking at Breakheart, “although you know well about unhealable scars.”
“Jus- Just do what needs to be done to make sure she can operate as my assistant.”
“Rrright, I’ll go grab that surgical equipment.” As Stitches started his way out past the small sack of apples he had brought in, he turned his head, “And Captain, you may want some rest, even we need our rest to work properly.” With that, he walked out of Breakheart’s chamber and flew towards his own.
Listening until the buzz of wings faded Breakheart started to pace in short bursts. First towards the filly, then towards the exiting wall, then towards the desk, then towards a pile of scrolls, and repeating this with no true order for a few moments before finally he collapsed on the floor. It had been a while since he actually slept. On the floor his mind raced 20 hours, two days, two weeks?
Time was hard to keep track of time underground. Especially in the self-isolation of study. Breakheart started to feel his eyes get heavy as he lay on his stomach on the ground. His last thoughts before they finally shut was how much a pony would demand in trade for a clock.
[(<>)]
*Bam* *Bam* *Bam*
Breakheart found himself in a crater as Changelings rained from the sky in their green hell flame-bombs as they crashed into the cobbled street before pouncing out of the smoke to chase an unknown enemy. All around Breakheart the sounds of battle seemed to be in full swing.
Looking around, he felt as if he knew this city from before, but he couldn't remember what city had ivory buildings that seemed to all be leaning in towards him.
Putting his ungue to his head to try to beat the memory back in he felt a helmet, but not a familiar one. This helmet stung as if it had small spikes on it. Starting to take it off, it acted as if were attached to the front of his head. Reaching up to the spot let him know he had a horn, but not his old one. Rather it was two horns which joined close to his head and spiraled one another into a sharp point at the tip.
Then, looking at himself he saw that he was not him. Rather he saw a Changeling body with six legs, four holeless wings, and encased in a blood red suit of spiked armour.
“What do you want? For them to ask you to attack?” the rough voice of Zhelezo asked but looking up Breakheart saw himself. At least himself with the Swarms old black and green flags for eyes, fire protruding from his throat, and blood dripping from every natural hole found on the Changeling.
“I’m coming. I’m coming” Breakheart responded starting to climb out of the crater.
*slap*
“That will be ‘Yes Sir’, drone. Remember your place!” the Zhelezo Breakheart spat bitterly, “Now onwards, FOR THE SWARM!”
Off he ran into the smoke that was starting to consume the street.
As Breakheart made his way out of the crater, the smoke had almost taken possession of the surrounding block. All except for a clear path way down the centre of the road.
Running through the smoke, the sound of a heated battle raged louder and louder. Then he found himself in a clearing, almost a perfect circle void of the smoke and absent of sound.
Forward he walked, until at the centre… *gasp*
The noise came from behind.
Turning around, Breakheart found himself face-to-face with a charcoal pony in armour that shown like the sun.
With little hesitation Breakheart lunged at the pony, horns first. Mid-flight he began to wonder where he had felt this may have happened before.
That thought quickly left when it was replaced with a splitting pain to his head as the pony threw a rounding punch into the flying Changeling.
To the ground to the left of the pony he skidded to a stop, his horns landing a few feet in front of him.
Instinctively, he crawled to them. The taste of blood swirling in his mouth creating a burning choke in his throat with every inch made.
Upon reaching them Breakheart had built up a hatred towards the pony behind him.
As he reached for his horns, his face was slammed into the ground, creating several cracks in his facial chitin and cutting the softer areas with rocks that got between the plates. Next thing he knew was an unmeasurable pain on his back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the pony was tearing out his wings.
Soon his vision was turned red with a blind rage towards the pony who merely saw him as a ‘pest’.
Bucking the pony off his back, Breakheart grabbed his horns in his mouth and launched them at the pony’s chest. This attack the pony dodged but distracted by the flying horns it did not see the enraged Changeling pouncing with teeth bared.
Before it knew what was happening, Breakheart had ripped a hole in its neck and dragged it down onto its back. This was followed by a continuous hammering of its unprotected stomach with Breakheart’s front legs.
Before long, the pony was no more than a bloodied pulp. The life had drained from its unblinking eyes and no love was produced from the unbeating heart.
Looking down, Breakheart saw that he was coated in the pony’s blood, but this thought was lost when he heard a sniffle from behind. Looking at where the sound came from revealed a small orange filly on the ground; his horns lodged in her right eye.
Going towards her caused her to flail back in fear. Seeing how he had just brutally killed her guardian, that was easy to understand. Still, he felt that he needed to aid her so that she would not bleed out. But with each step he took, she took two away.
Eventually, frightened and seeing no way out, the filly plunged her head face first into to ground. Breakheart rushed to the small limp body, but he knew even before he turned her around that his horns were now embedded completely into her skull.
But turning the small body yielded one surprize. The filly on the ground was now tan. With a smile cut on her face.
])><([
Up Breakheart jumped, tossing up a blanket that had been placed upon him into the air.
Looking around, he knew it was just another nightmare as he was back in his body with his armour placed in a corner, but his jacket was nowhere to be found.
Leaning on the stone desk to regain his composer, he saw a tan thing in his nest. At this he remembered the filly that he had adopted the night before.
Still shaking, he inched his way to her. Looking in the nest revealed that the thread had been removed from her mouth and that her wounds had been washed. Her breathing also appeared to be in normal rhythms.
Trotting over to the sack of apples near the door, Breakheart noticed a bowl of the ‘love’ mixture along with a note next to it.
Looking close at the note, it translated,
“To Captain Breakheart: From Medic Stitches.  
I am reporting that all of the glass has been successfully removed from your torso and lower neck.  
Added, at your request, the filly has been unsewn and her wounds disinfected. We trust that you know what is best for the Commune involving this pony.  
As per medical experience, I would advice you to avoid any activity that may further damage your shell for at least two weeks. Also make sure to eat your love rations, we all need to be able to perform our duties.  
-EX UNO MULTA
Post Script: One of the pony orchard workers was killed during a fight between him and another stallion. We have collected that it was over the rights to “pleasure themselves” with a mare. The surviving stallion and the mare in question have been drained of their ‘love’ and will be sent back to work with the next rotation.”
After reading the note Breakheart couldn't help but chuckle. It seemed that time and time again that the Nationalists’ pride and anger would lead to inward fighting over the pettiest of issues. Indeed, this was not the first fight over mating privileges, and it most likely wouldn't be the last. But nothing would ever beat the time that three of them got in a bone breaking fight over what they considered “the perfect apple”.
With the thought of food, Breakheart’s stomach started to beg for the love rations.
Picking the side of his bowl up in his teeth, he tilted it so that the contents would slide right into his mouth between his fangs. The taste had a slight burn to it which he, and most changelings, found almost irresistible. And as it slid down his throat, he could feel the distributed love magnetise towards his heart.
“Oh yeah. That beats silently sucking it out of the air any day,” then smelling his breath as he spoke, “and good thing that I won’t be going out anytime soon."
With a full heart and stomach, he picked up the sack of apples and placed it next to the nest with the sleeping filly. Opening the sack up showed that Stitches, or possibly Gaster, had picked four plump red apples for the filly.
Suddenly a thought popped into Breakheart’s mind, “If the filly recently had damage done to her mouth a whole apple would cause more damage. That’s just simple science. A knife will work though. A knife to cut slices that a little mouth can nibble.”
Without hesitation, Breakheart was out of his chamber and in the vertical hall running up the wall. At the top, he launched into the air and landed smoothly enough in the straight hall to continue at an uninterrupted trot.
About a quarter down the hall on the left, Breakheart reached the armoury. Inside was an assortment of swords, shields, spears, armour, and countless other pieces needed to build an army four times the number the outpost had now. Most of this collection was counted as ‘spoils of war’ and told of the Changelings many victories. Or just told about how long this weapons had been hoarded.
In a rush to find a moderate knife in the forest of blades, Breakheart hardly took notice of the group of Changelings testing out a prototype for a portable rapid-loose bow.
“Ah, Comrade Captain Breakheart, how nice it is for you to re-join the world of the living.” Said a voice rough enough to belong to only one Changeling, “Would you like to see our new toy?”
“Thank you Lieutenant Zhelezo, but I believe that I will pass.” Breakheart responded while still searching for the appropriate blade.
Levitating the weapon in front of Breakheart’s face, “Are you sure you don’t want to have some fun with the new equalizer, Comrade Captain?"
The weapon as Breakheart saw, was a block of wood for a main base and another thinner one sticking into it. The front had small bows crossed to make an X with their strings going into the base and a hole in the centre to let the arrows out.
“It is an amazing thing, is it not? Just one of these can make a simple drone worth 10 armoured ponies, 20 with an addition of magic arrows. Comrade Captain.” Zhelezo went on excitedly.
Finding a small espionage knife sticking into a nearby table, Breakheart replied while scooting over, “As much as I would enjoy seeing this, uh, thing. I must be going.” Grabbing the knife in his mouth, “ewou mnuowh, memmy dings dou cuud.”
Before Zhelezo could even ask what Breakheart had said, he was already out into the hall.
Into the chamber Breakheart entered knife in mouth. Trotting over to his desk he gently placed the knife down.
“Huh?” came a confused sound from the nest.
Breakheart assumed that he must not have been as gentle as he wished to be. So, he used this time to welcome the filly properly, “I see you’re up, I hope you rested well.”
“Wher- OuUesh” the filly started but stopped in pain. Naturally she put he hooves up to where the cut smile was.
Worried that she may hurt herself, Breakheart soothed, “Shh. Take it easy, you’ve been through a lot. You’re here with us Changelings now, those bad ponies can’t get you now.”
At this the filly’s eyes darted around confirming that she was indeed inside of a cave. Her eyes stopped dead on the knife on the desk. Breakheart immediately knew she was thinking of a worst-case scenario.
“Don’t worry that’s to cut the apples so you can eat.” Breakheart motioned towards the sack near the filly. “If you’re hunger now, I can cut you some slices.”
The filly’s glance bounced uncertainly between Breakheart and the sack of apples. All that Breakheart could do was give a nervous smile as the filly tried to decipher a possible lie.
Eventually, her hunger caught up with her when an audible grumble erupted from her stomach. Pushing the sack forward she nodded at Breakheart as if to say, “you win”.
As Breakheart sliced the apple, he could sense the filly shutter with each cut. “Don’t worry. Most of the stories you’ve heard of us are probably embellished,” at that the first apple was sliced into 10 equal slices, “now come on over and eat, knowing the ponies who hurt you; you probably haven’t had a bite in days.”
Over the filly came still eyeing Breakheart, who found it odd considering how she had clung to him the night before. And though hesitant at first, she quickly devoured the slices, all without a sound.
“Still hungry?” Breakheart asked. To which she sheepishly nodded.
So once more, Breakheart sliced an apple into 10 equal pieces; and again, she ate quickly without a sound. The cycle continued until all the apples were gone.
As the filly was eating the last apple, Breakheart silently spoke to himself, “What a big appetite for such a small creature. Although, what am I going to do when I have to leave this room before she’s fully loyal to us? Hmmm. Oh. Gaster seemed to be ok with her, and since he mostly does the odd jobs he’ll be free enough to do it.”
However, if order to find Gaster, he would have to leave the filly alone temporarily. A risk that he could take.
As he was walking out Breakheart turned to the filly, “I need to go grab something. Is there anything I could get you?”
At this, the filly made the pantomime of chilled. It was obviously colder in a sealed empty cavern than a cabin full of ponies.
“Got it, a blanket. Use that one there on the floor and I’ll get you another thicker one.” and with that said Breakheart was out and looking for Gaster.
After a few minutes of looking, Breakheart eventually found Gaster near the prisoner wing of the Commune.
As he was walking towards Gaster, Breakheart noticed that he was helping two other Changelings to get a recently deceased Nationalist ready to be buried. For Changelings, this meant wrapping the body in a leaf wrap and burying the pony vertically with a tree seed on top the head. This allowed the sprouting tree to grow faster and healthier while also being a great way to dispose of bodies.
“So, this is the pony that died in a fight recently?” Breakheart asked rhetorically.
“Yes sir.” Answered a Changeling named Bacjac as he wrapped the top of the pony’s head.
“And let me guess, they were all related in some way.” Breakheart stated almost certain of the answer.
With a laugh, Bacjac replied, “Ha, they all pretty much are. This one was killed by his second cousin for their first cousin. It seems that their culture revolves around making family sticks instead of trees.”
"Blind pride with nothing to be proud about can corrupt creatures into doing things which will ultimately destroy them, but that’s enough of their bigot politics. I came to ask Gaster to help with a different job.”
At hearing his name, Gaster bounced out of his wrapping trance and was standing at attention before Breakheart in no time at all.
“That’s right Gaster, I have a special job for one of your talents. Come with me and I’ll fill you in.”
As they walked, Breakheart told Gaster of his job and why it was important. Gaster, naturally, had no objections and was eager to please.
Remembering the Filly’s request, Breakheart took a detour to the supply station of the commune to retrieve a blanket for her.
On their way down the vertical hall though, they heard trouble below.
*crash*
Running down and into Breakheart’s chamber, they found the nest and desk void of any life. Then another crash to their left.
Looking there revealed the filly in a pile of armour, obviously embarrassed at the situation.
“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.” Said Gaster losing excitement for his new chore.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                      Unlikely Allies                      
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Unlikely Allies
{\_7 Months Later_/}
One wouldn’t expect a meeting of the Crystal Empire’s communist groups to take place in a card game in the basement of an orphanage. That thinking though, is exactly why the three ponies and a cloaked Changeling played there.
At the head of the table was a dark red Earth-pony stallion with a jet-black mane who led the Steelist members; the authoritarian fanatics everypony believes all communists are. To his left was a thinner Unicorn stallion of a lemon coat and a balding light blue mane who led the Trotsky members; the behind the scenes ponies who would provide aid the working classes in times of distress, both natural and revolutionary. At the end opposite the Steelist was a Pegasus mare of a green coat and pink mane representing the Anarchist commune located south of the Crystal Empire’s capital. And in between them all was the scarred Changeling we know as Breakheart.
“You know,” started the Trotsky, “if you told a younger me that I’d be playing a card game with a love eating shapeshifter who’s the moderate in the group, I’d ask what you were on.”
“What do you mean by moderate, Gold Star?” the Anarchist said giving a name to the Trotsky, “I haven’t killed before.”
“No, I mean that it’s not to either of your extremes of governmental powers, Chain Breaker.” Replied Gold Star returning the name game to the mare.
At this the Steelist jumped in, “Correct me if I’m wrong Comrade Changeling, but I’m sure that he still has loyalty to some sort of monarch with a militarized society. So almost a Steelist, like me!”
“No Flag Bearer,” the Trotsky replied to the Steelist, “it isn’t so interested in isolation. After all, it contacted us first.”
“UNO!” shouted Breakheart having only one card left in his ungues and drawing the ponies attention, “Did you guys forget about the game?
“Oh, correct, the game. I guess we got carried away.” Replied Gold Star with a slight blush.
“So, what are you all in that matter Comrade Changeling?” Asked Flag Bearer.
“Well,” Breakheart tried to pick the right words, “it is difficult to say since we do see the benefits of both sides in this matter. I myself probably would lean somewhat authoritarian, but you would get along fine with my Lieutenant. You two see things, similarly.”
“Draw four!” exclaimed Chain Breaker placing the card to stop Breakheart’s incoming victory, “By the way, those pigeons you used to send messages to us. How’d they know where to find us?”
With a smug look even with four new cards, Breakheart almost boasted, “Well, it’s much easier to give orders to drones than birds.”
“Those were Changelings?” Gold Star jumped in.
“That’s correct.” Breakheart replied with a mile-long grin.
“So, Comrade Changeling, then why would you insist on meeting us in this form?” Flag Bearer questioned, “Especially with the history of our races?”
This question, Breakheart recited his prepared answer, “Notice how I have no horn? Well, without a horn I can’t really do magic. As for why I wished to meet you. That Idea was from my little assistant.”
“Your little assistant? Does that mean you have a child?” asked Gold Star.
“Yes, I found her in a closet during an attack on a Crystal Nationalist held town.”
“So, you’re the ones behind those?” Flag Bearer said, with a twinge of jealousy in his voice.
Before Breakheart could answer though, Chain Breaker chirped in, “When can I see the little dear?” Causing all to look in the Anarchist direction, “What, I think it’s adorable that he has a little daughter. *gasp* What’s her name?”
Unsure of how to react Breakheart responded “She goes by Smiles now.”
“How precious! You must bring her one day.” Chain Breaker continued to squee.
“I take it that you haven’t had any of your own then?” Gold Star asked Breakheart.
At this Breakheart tried a slightly comedic approach, “Haha, with this face? I’m lucky Smiles even got used to me. But luckily, I’ve got a helper, and trust me he’s been a lifesaver at times.”
“So, this filly has no mother figure?” piped in Flag Bearer.
“Ooh Ooh Ooh,” Chain Breaker almost flying out of her seat asserted, “I can be there, just call me ‘Mother Anarchy’!”
At this Flag Bearer placed his hoof to his face, Gold Star let out a sigh, and Breakheart blushed.
“Sorry, but I’m not looking for a partner.” Breakheart finally coughed up, “And no, my helper is not a partner either.”
Now realizing what they all thought, Chain Breaker corrected with a blush, “No, I meant that Smiles and I could go do something fun while you guys do your meetings here.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t imagine a pony and a Changeling getting together.”Flag Bearer let slip.
“Eh, it’s happened before. And it’s worked for us since it brings some diversity into the nest.” Breakheart corrected.
“Wait that’s happened before, Comrade Changeling?” Came Flag Bearer’s disbelief.
“Yes.” Replied Breakheart, “Changelings have gotten together with many different species to be honest. Being basically linked to them all has made it nontaboo like it would for other creatures.”
Gold Star then jumped in with his question, “Do they all pop out Changelings?”
“No, it’s just whichever the female in a heterosexual relationship is. Which is why there are actually more Changelings of mixed relations than vice-versa.”
“I thought only your Queen was female!” Came back Flag Bearer.
At this Breakheart knew this would definitely be a common confusion to be answered, “Shapeshifters are natural hermaphrodites, think of it like. fish. Most may stay in a male form as we’ve found most creatures are more intimidated that way, but we can be either one really. But perhaps we should get back to the real reason we’re here before we lose our ‘teen’ rating.”
“Teen rating?” All three ponies questioned.
“Oh, uh, never mind. Just a random thing that popped in my head.” Breakheart replied, still wondering why he always felt watched. “Anyways, my scouts have heard rumours of a forsaken town near the Chestnut Peak Bay.”
“I know what you’re talking about Comrade Changeling, along the South East Coast. It is the result of a failed magical excavation, which while not lethal, it has caused the inhabitants to go crazy.” Flag Bearer responded.
“And that spell was to attempt to harness powerful matters, correct?” Breakheart asked to check on his facts.
Gold Star now responded, “Yes, almost pure magic in physical form, left over from the founders of Equestria when they altered the lands to have control over its weather and wildlife.”
“Well then, since we Changelings are born syphons of magic, we could possibly find a way to harness it for the betterment of us all.” Breakheart stated.
“I know you Changelings think that you can just control magic,” Chain Breaker started, “but do you really think it will work on arcane magic and should you even have that kind of power. It was too much even for a town of scholar-ponies.”
“And how do we know that it won’t poison the rest of us?” Added Gold Star.
“Ok, listen everypony!” Breakheart started commanding, “We Changelings are very resourceful in these situations, we were even able to control Discord’s magic back when the Hive was in our control. And all I’m asking is for your aid in the transportation process if we are able to capture it.”
After a period of silence, Flag Bearer spoke, “Tell me your full plan first, Comrade Changeling.”
With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, Breakheart proceeded to explain the plan of sending a Changeling to scout the area, find collectable magic, and if possible recruit the locals to the cause. Then how the magic could be used to make the northern tundra fertile. He also taught a brief lesson on how magic dampening worked and how a suit of armour could be made to protect one from harmful magic in the air.
At this the ponies pondered with the information presented.
Then, slamming his hooves on the table. Flag Bearer announced, “We will help you Comrade Changeling. When you have proof of being able to control this magic, we will provide protection in its delivery here.”
“Thank yo-”
“But, we do expect that it will be used for the benefit of the Equestrian Proletariat Revolution when it comes.” Flag Bearer finished, cutting Breakheart off.
“Of course.” Breakheart answered.
“We’ll help as well.” Gold Star pronounced.
“I’m willing to watch Smiles if you’re going to be having dangerous materials around.” Chain Breaker added with a smile of her own.
“Thank you all, I’ll contact you if we need any more assistance” Breakheart said starting to leave the table.
“Wait!” Gold Star yelled after him, “What about our game here?”
“Looks like we’ve all forfeited.” Replied Breakheart referring to how everyone had place their cards face-up in all the ruckus.
With that, Breakheart left through a set of stairs which lead to a side alley. By now the sun was well past set, so there were no ponies out to bother the cloaked Changeling on his way back to the outpost.
Returning to the outpost was always a relief. It becomes even more of a relief when it’s the dead of night.
Making, his way to his chamber. Breakheart encountered nothing of excitement, besides the cloak flipping over his head on his way down the vertical hall.
Entering his chamber, he saw Smiles asleep on her bed; which had been made for her about half a year before. Looking over at his desk, revealed Gaster snoring softly over piles of papers covered with Changeling ruins and imitations of the ruins.
Nudging Gaster awake Breakheart whispered, “How is she doing with her studies?”
“She’s picking it up, luckily only a few terms are different between our spoken languages.” Gaster replied. Then looking at Breakheart’s recently purchased clock, “Huh, before 1 AM, must be an outpost record.”
“Oh hahaha,” Breakheart replied sarcastically, “why don’t you go tell that joke back in the drone quarters.”
With a yawn Gaster simply answered, “Yes Sir.” And with that, he picked himself up and left Breakheart’s chamber.
Now alone, Breakheart placed his cloak on the corner of his desk and made his way to his nest. Ever since Smiles had gotten a bed and her wounds healed up, his nightmares started to become less frequent. Sleep now felt rewarding to the haunted Changeling.
But as he lied down in the nest, he couldn’t stop thinking about the meeting he had left. That he had allowed Smiles to persuade him to go physically and unmasked. That the ponies must be desperate enough to trust an ‘unreformed’ Changeling. That they could very well betray him to the royals. That they even had their own inward fights.
These thoughts raced around in his mind for what felt like hours until eventually he slid into sleep.

[center][(<>)][/center]

All that Breakheart could tell was he was walking forward along a thin dirt path. To his left was a vast ocean of a light grey; while to his right was one of lightless blue.
Forward Breakheart walked, not even looking to see what on his body was making the sound of clanking metal.
All he knew was to go forward and that he must not stray.
So, on he went, between the pools of light and dark, face forward. Even when it felt that he was starting to walk uphill, forward he went.
Eventually his weight revealed that he was now facing vertically up, but onward he went still.
Then he heard it. A distant female voice, familiar yet different, soothing yet commanding, “Toy soldier, where do you think you’ll go?”
Breakheart didn’t respond, he just continued forward.
But the voice spoke again, closer this time, “You can never escape this loop this way.”
By now Breakheart’s weight told him he was now upside down. However, he continued, giving the voice no answer.
This, the voice did not take as an answer as it spoke almost right behind Breakheart, “I know not who you are, nor what ails you, but this path leads nowhere.”
Then something grabbed Breakheart around his body stopping him in his tracks. Looking down revealed blue magical-aura tentacles wrapping around a body of metal and gears.
But no matter how much the gears strained to continue their forward march, they could not overpower the force holding him back. Just then Breakheart was lifted high into the air and spun around to stair directly into two eyes shining as bright as the moon.
Then the voice asked, “Who are you?”
But before Breakheart could answer, all things started to fade away.

[center]])><([[/center]

“Captain! Are you alright?” came the worried voice of a Changeling Sergeant.
“I believe so, why do you ask? And why are you in my chambers?” replied a confused Breakheart.
To this the Sergeant answered, “Sir, we detected foreign magic outside the physical realm in our precinct. Something was trying to get in through someone’s’ dreams.”
Remembering stories of how the ponies’ night princess was able to send a cry for help when captured before, Breakheart was now fully aware of the severity of the situation.
“Do you think the Astral Princesses are planning an attack on us Sergeant Nighteye?”
Now in a more investigative mode, Sergeant Nighteye followed, “We can’t be sure sir, but your awakening seemed to make the magic fade. Did you see or hear anything that could be a clue?”
Withholding some needless details, Breakheart simply replied, “I heard a voice asking who I was, but that is all.”
“Alright, thank you sir.” As Nighteye started to head out of the chamber, he told Breakheart one last thing, “oh, and your filly is with Private Gaster in the wood storage room, something about wilderness survival.”
With that Nighteye left, and Breakheart did indeed notice that Smiles was not to be found in the room.
Looking over at his clock read 6:23, within starting time for most inhabitants in the outpost. Walking over to the exit did indeed reveal the sound of movement up the hall.
As Breakheart walked out into the hall, the commotion kept its steady pace around while occasionally a drone passing by would say a “Good morning sir”. This happened as Breakheart went up the vertical hall and down the horizontal one.
Taking a turn into a side hall which lead to the resource storage chambers, Breakheart almost bumped into Zhelezo.
After an awkward face-to-face stare off, Zhelezo broke the silence, “I see you’re awake a little late Comrade Captain, did your meeting with the other communist groups go well?”
“I believe we are off to a good start with our allies. They’ve promised to aid us if we can produce proof of being able to control the Arcane Magic in the forsaken town.” Answered Breakheart.
“Even the Anarchists Comrade Captain?”
To that Breakheart replied, “Well not them exactly, their representative seems to just want to become friends with Smiles.”
At that Zhelezo went on a soapbox rant, “You let them know about the filly? Buck it! Why not just tell them where our outpost is! Or even better, give them the ability to alter tunnel linings like you did with that filly! I swear, she’s making you softer. I warned you that she was bad news!”
“Keep talking like that and you’ll be called Corporal Zhelezo! This investment will pay off one day mark my words!”
At news of a possible demotion, Zhelezo took a shocked step back. Then he quickly hissed, “Your lisp is starting to come back.”
Breakheart then realized that his lisp had started to die down over the past few months.
“I serve the Commune! Comrade Captain.” Zhelezo finally spat before marching around Breakheart and into the main hall where a small crowd of drones had gathered to listen to the commotion.
Breakheart, trying to humour the crowd, stated, “What? We all know he’s got a tongue of serpent’s poison…”
“I can still hear you!” came Zhelezo’s voice from down the hall.
At that Breakheart dismissed the drones and continued his journey to find Gaster and Smiles. This quest happened to be only about 20 paces from the little argument.
Entering into the storage chamber, Breakheart saw Gaster pacing back and forth while Smiles sat on the floor with tears forming in her eyes.
Looking up, Smiles saw Breakheart had entered and was now looking sympathetically down at her. Well, the most a battle scared Changeling could look sympathetic.
Almost magnetically, she clung to Breakheart, tears now leaking out of her eyes. And she asked one simple question, “Why is he like that?”
Now stroking Smiles mane, Breakheart attempted to sooth, “He’s stuck to a corrupted balance which sees all things separate and at war. Sadly, I think he was empowered by me.”
Sobbing Smiles doubted, “No you aren’t like him! You are fair, he’s not!”
Looking up at Gaster, Breakheart signalled with his head that Gaster was excused.
Exiting, Gaster whispered, “Ask her about making fire.”
This Breakheart did do; after Smiles had run out of tears. And even though she was still shaking, she was able to start a fire in a few seconds by spinning a stick into another at a rapid speed.
For a few peaceful minutes, Breakheart and Smiles just sat and watched the fire in silence.
“You really don’t have that bad of a lisp.” Said Smiles, still looking into the fire.
Puzzled, Breakheart asked, “Why do you say that?”
“You really only have one when you’re angry or cold, and even then, it sounds more like you’re just picking your words. Like… Well you know.”
“Yeah, I guess it is like that.”
Now looking up at Breakheart Smiles asked, “Why does Zhelezo not want anyone to know about me?”
Taking a breath for a difficult discussion, Breakheart answered, “He’s afraid I may become weak if I develop some kind of love.”
“But if you feed off love, why would it make you weak?”
“Well. In our past, those who started to love would loss the will to fight. And in a world as dangerous as this, that’s not a risk we are willing to take.”
“They loss the will to fight? How does that work?”
“They claim that they feel fulfilled, that perhaps their love will stop whatever’s after them. Many ponies have learned this the hard way too.”
“Like my old family?” Smiles asked, tears now forming back up in her eyes.
Looking back into the fire, Breakheart nodded, “It seems so, and those Crystal Nationalists, the ones that hurt you, they are built completely around hate and fear. Such emotions cause creatures to have warped minds.”
“But if they’re looking for a fight, why do you fight them?”
“Because if we don’t, then that hate will become a parasite. It will spread among the weak minded until one of power can use them to complete what it wants.”
Recalling old stories, Smiles pondered, “Like King Sombra?”
Now looking at Smiles, “Yes. That is exactly how King Sombra rose to power. And that’s why the Nationalists still practice in his ways. They excuse evil if it leads to suffering of those they disagree with.”
“Bu-But don’t you make them suffer?” asked Smiles in her innocence.
“To them maybe, but in this world, it is merely a punishment. Every day, they threaten balance when they kill, oppress, and cause hate. We Changelings are simply nature’s equalizer.”
“It’s equalizer?”
“Yes, we remove the hate and keep love from getting too strong. Both ways could lead to disaster.”
Understanding the complexity of the situation, Smiles simply stated, “Oh, I see.”
As they sat watching the dying fire a voice rose up from behind them, “You know, many pony scholars believe that the odd items found underground that they’ve reversed engineered could have belonged to a species that wiped itself out.”
“How long have you been back there Tweet?” questioned Breakheart, surprised half to death.
To this, Tweet cheerily replied, “Since you were explaining why we fight the Nationalists.” Now blushing, “I didn’t want to interrupt the story.”
Smiles confused, asked, “So pony technology belongs to dead creatures?”
“Some of it yes.” Tweet explained, “There are still some artefacts that they cannot understand or find use for, and the others that they have found use for work better with creatures that have talons or four frontal limbs.”
“So why are they not here.” Smiles wondered out loud.
This Breakheart responded, “Either they ran out of essential resources, natural disaster struck, or they destroyed themselves in a war with their advanced technologies and magic.”
“Actually, a new theory is that they had no magic besides advanced imagination.” Tweet threw in, “After all; all the relics ponies have found are purely physics based.”
“Interesting. Anyway, why did you sneak in here to begin with?” for Breakheart knew there had to be a reason a messenger had tracked him down.
“Oh, yes! Well after you left the meeting last night I was summoned by Flag Bearer. Apparently, he knows I’m a Changeling now?”
“Yes yes. Why did he summon you?”
“Right! He told me that he wants to see what our Changeling will be equipped with when he enters the quarantine zone.”
At this, Breakheart had to think a bit, “Hmmm. Tell him that on the 101st anniversary of the start of the first successful Red Revolution I will send a soldier to demonstrate the base equipment.”
“So, November 7th?” Tweet clarified.
“Yes.”
With the confirmation, Tweet jumped to attention, clicked his heels, and exited in a matter of seconds.
Now turning to Smiles who had been pretty quiet the entire time, Breakheart asked, “So you said that you’ve always wanted to go to a convention with me?”

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                 Crystal Army, Black King                  
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Crystal Army, Black King
{*\_4 Months Later_/*}
The morning sun slowly rose before a black crystal fort in the barren plans of Northern Equestria, gently rising the temperature to just below freezing. From the fort, no one was able to see the two figures in the distance slowly closing the gap with the sun to their back.
The pony was one of a dark red coat with a jet black mane who sported a light brown jacket with it’s collar flipped up. On his flank was a blood red flag.
Next to this pony was a changeling in fur-lined assortment of armour, levitating a crossbow by his side.
Without diverting his eyes from the fort, Flag Bearer lightly broke the silence, “So Comrade Zhelezo, not that I distrust you, but how do I know that that camp hasn’t already been cleared?”
Levitating a spy glass out of a satchel hanging off his side and passing it to Flag Bearer, Zhelezo responded, “Simple Comrade Bearer, do you see how there a still guards by the gate and how their hideous green banner still flies? Well had we been here before none of that would be still standing.”
“I see Comrade Zhelezo, and you plan on taking out a fort on your own? Don’t you Changelings usually attack in swarms?”
“Usually yes, Comrade Bearer, but for the mission we’re demonstrating, only one changeling is required. And besides, the Nationalists are huge about exaggerating their numbers, there can’t be more than a few dozen in that fort now.” Zhelezo replied as he checked the load of arrows awaiting in the bows reload mechanism.
“Understood Comrade Zhelezo, clear out the fort, then show me your work. I will be waiting for you here.” With that, Zhelezo took off into the air, looking for a weak link to attack from the inside-out.
Among the 3 by 6 rows of cabins several ponies could be seen walking to and from their duties. But what caught his eye was a single pony stacking fire wood in the back of the fort complex.
Gliding soundlessly above, Zhelezo banked into a dive directly at the lone pony. Unlike in traditional combat, this was done without a magical barrier as initial stealth was required for a flawless success.
The pony never knew what happened as Zhelezo broke his fall with the pony’s neck.
Pulling his crossbow to the ready, Zhelezo sped towards the opposite fort wall, almost sliding into it due to the mud caused by the morning due. Recomposing himself, he started his method snaking his way through the alleyways.
As he rounded the first corner, he spotted two crystal ponies walking away, deep in their last conversation. *click* *swoosh* *click* *swoosh* And with that, the two Nationalists were lying face down in the mud, each with an arrow in the back of the neck.
Running past the lifeless bodies, Zhelezo pulled the arrows out and placed them into the quiver strapped to his side.
“No point in littering now”, he muttered to himself, now side-sliding past the next corner. But he now found himself face-to-face with yet another pony draped in a white robe.
Thrusting the crossbow into the ponies open mouth, Zhelezo let loose an arrow that went straight though and out the other side. The pony tumbled onto his back from the force of the crossbow being shoved into his face. Gurgling from the hole in his throat, the pony tried to be defiant, but with the cloth over his face turning red, it was clear that his days were done.
“So. You’re supreme to me?”, Zhelezo silently asked, “Well how come it’s you in the mud now?”
Denying the pony the mercy of quick death, Zhelezo resumed his snaking pattern between the cabins.
The next street was as barren as the tundra outside, but sliding by the fourth street Zhelezo spotted three Nationalists sitting around a fire, one of whom made eye contact with Zhelezo.
“Shieee” Zhelezo did in a high pitch whisper as the Nationalist opened his mouth to warn his fire partners. However, before a word was uttered, he received an arrow into the top of his throat. The one to his right received an arrow to the lower back of the skull. Meanwhile, the other Nationalist was turning to see where the arrows were coming from but was stopped when an arrow went through on ear and out the other, taking a bit a grey matter with it.
Skidding to a stop, Zhelezo watched as the three lumped over almost simultaneously. Trotting over, he pulled the arrows out and rolled their bodies away from the fire.
“That was a bit too close, luckily I’m the faster draw though.” Zhelezo whispered to the Nationalist he’d made eye contact with. The pony passed out in response.
Silently running through the last two streets, Zhelezo confirmed that they were empty for the time being. That could change at a moment, and Zhelezo knew that.
With the inside section cleared Zhelezo finally made his way up to the front gate. From there, he climbed silently up to the top gate platform where the single Crystal Nationalist with a position of height was enjoying a morning cup o’ joe.
As the Nationalist lifted his cup to his mouth, he felt a presence behind him. Before he could react, he was already falling off the gate towards the right-most stationed ground guard. The left-most guard shocked at what he’d witnessed, received an arrow through each eye.
“What’s goin—” started the guard who had his ally thrown on him before the two received a mini barrage of three arrows.
With that, there were no living ponies outside of the cabins. Now, it was time for Zhelezo’s part two.
Flying upwards, Zhelezo reached an angle in which he could see the front of all the cabins, their inhabitants unaware of anything going on that morning. Pulling out a box from his satchel, Zhelezo unloaded his crossbow and started to load arrows enchanted with a flame spell.
“Might as well get you prepared for your new home.”, Zhelezo said taking aim at the middle front cabin’s door.
-------->
“That weapon did this?”, Flag Bearer asked as he stepped over a charred corpse, too shocked at the destruction to be formal.
“That’s right Comrade Bearer,” Zhelezo chirped in, “similar to how the arrows used in the Equestrian Games are enchanted to make ice, this bow can shoot arrows enchanted to make fire.” Although “fire” could be an understatement as the entire compound was in a two-hour blaze hot enough to roast the ponies who did manage to not catch on fire.
Moving between the crumbled ashes of what used to be cabins, Zhelezo scanned for any signs of survivors. The only ones breathing, though, were the two figures who knew of this attack.
“I don’t know what we expected to find Comrade Zhelezo, I could feel the heat back at our meeting point. I don’t think that even Pinkie Magic could save anything here.”, stated Flag Bearer, with a regained composer.
“What’s ‘Pinkie Magic’, Comrade Bearer?”
“Have you not heard of that term, Comrade Zhelezo? It comes from the element bearer of laughter who apparently has the power to bend the rules of reality.”
“My, apologize Comrade Bearer. I am not as familiar with those elements as the other changeling who served further south.”
“No need to apologize Comrade Zhelezo, I can imagine that it is more of a pony joke. Although, if you don’t mind me asking, why did Comrade Breakheart not come to view the test of your might?”
“Captain Breakheart is currently at a convention with that filly he’s adopted, Comrade Bearer.” Zhelezo responded, “Besides, he’s found remorse in killing ever since he was stationed at our outpost.”
At this Flag Bearer’s eyebrow raised in confusion, “Comrade Zhelezo, are you saying Comrade Breakheart’s feelings on killing are recent?”
“Yes, Comrade Bearer, while Captain Breakheart’s kill count isn’t that impressive it did cease after the Siege of Canterlot.”
“Comrade Breakheart was at Canterlot? He was part of an attempt to stop the Diarchy? What would cause him to feel remorse?”
“I am not sure Comrade Bearer, but I have heard rumours that his filly is a result of him atoning for it.”
“It appears to me that Comrade Breakheart isn’t quite fit to lead a force for revolution, would you say that is true Comrade Zhelezo?”
“Comrade Bearer, I’ve been thinking that he seemed too gentle since he was first stationed at our outpost seven years ago. And that’s without counting the fact that he’s missing several key parts.”
Turning to face Zhelezo front profiled Flag Bearer said with a grin, “Well then Comrade Zhelezo, don’t you think it’s about time that we change that? That it’s time to make Our Red Army the strongest?”
Returning the grin Zhelezo responded, “Captain Breakheart’s an inspiration to the others who are damaged, Comrade Bearer.” With a wink, Zhelezo continued, “It would be a shame if he ended as a young martyr.”
Walking into the sunset, the two began to discuss how thing would be done under their rule, and how to get there.