“You’ll never escape now, Bugisher!” cried Queen Bee.
“Oh, really?” said a purple Pegasus filly in a gas mask, sounding bored. “What makes you say that?”
The Earth Pony blinked. “…because I’ve trapped you in here and sealed all the exits?” Queen Bee said, though it was more of a question than a statement.
“The police will be here any minute?” Queen Bee continued.
‘Bugisher’ pushed up her mask, revealing a slight smile. “You know,” she said, “I’ve always liked sports. Sports have rules, regulations, and referees. Break the rules and you get thrown out of the game.
“I never really thought about it, but comic books are the same way, aren’t they? You can’t recognize somepony, even though all they’re wearing for a disguise is a domino mask. You can’t just beat the bad guys up; it has to be a gadget-filled fight on the roof of a train, or something equally dramatic.”
She removed her mask completely and turned it over, gazing down into her reflection on the eyepieces. “But then I realized,” said the filly, “…there are no referees in this world. Anything goes. So, Queen Bee, Honey Dew…” the Earth Pony stiffened. “I’d like to ask you a question: where are your bees?”
Queen Bee gasped, looked frantically side to side, eyes widening in panic, before she broke into a sprint, calling over her shoulder, as she did so, “This isn’t over, Bugisher! I’ll see you behind bars for what you’ve done. I swear, if you’ve harmed a single one of my hives…!”
“Are you sure you have time to argue?” asked the filly.
Queen Bee gulped, before galloping out of the building at top speed.
When she was gone, there was only the Bugisher, and her sidekick, left sitting alone in the warehouse.
“So, that’s it?” the filly asked.
“Yes,” replied the Bugisher’s sidekick—a bug pony, ironically enough. “You have evaded capture by Queen Bee. You will soon be sent home.”
He frowned. “Though, was it truly necessary to destroy the Queen’s hives? Playing the villain aside, it does seem a rather dark solution for a filly your age, Wind Sprint.”
She blinked. “Oh, no. I didn’t actually hurt her bees,” Wind Sprint explained. “I started a petition that convinced the Winter Wrap Up Committee to have their parade a week earlier. Downtown is now a mess of flower-covered parade floats. Any bee in a five-mile radius is going to be there instead of here.”
He blinked as well. “Then why did you tell Queen Bee otherwise?”
Wind Sprint snorted. “What, you don’t think I’d actually ignore the rules, do you? What I just did was set up a classic cliffhanger, designed to keep the readers on the edge of their seats, make them buy the next volume, whatever. If it turns out to be nowhere near as bad as I implied, well, that’s just par for the course, isn’t it?”
The sidekick considered that. “While you may not be abnormally violent for a filly your age, Wind Sprint, you do seem abnormally cynical.”
Wind Sprint laughed, softly. “Blame my stepdad,” she said.
Her form began to glow, as the enchantment prepared to return her to her home.
“Looks like my ride’s here,” said Wind Sprint. “Have a nice life, Eye Guy!” said the filly, with a wave.
“Idol Eyes,” he corrected, but she was gone.
An hour later, Idol Eyes entered one of the Secret Lairs belonging to his Employer, the Bugisher, who had been holed up in her backup lab for the past week, since they’d had a reader in residence.
Idol pushed open the door. “It is safe to return to the main lab, Topaz,” he said.
“Bugisher!” she corrected.
“…Bugisher,” Idol amended. Honestly, it was hard enough trying to call her by her alias in front of Honey Dew. Now she wanted him to do so in private, as well?
Villains, Idol scoffed. So dramatic.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Cretin!” shrieked Topaz.
“My apologies, Mistress,” said Idol, with a bow. There, that was nice and formal. “What is the itinerary for tonight?” he continued.
“The same as it is every night, Idol…” replied Topaz, slinging a hoof over his shoulder and sweeping the other dramatically across the city’s skyline visible through the window.
“…try to take over the world!”
Exactly twenty-four hours later, Villain and Sidekick were thrown into a jail cell.
The door clanged shut.
“Dinner’s at six,” the police pony who’d shut them in informed them. “I hope you enjoy your stay,” she finished, with a cheerful smile.
“No prison can hold me for long!” declared Topaz, before seeing that she was being ignored and flopping dramatically onto one of the cell’s cots.
“’Eyes,” she said, “you’re bleeding.”
Idol glanced down to confirm that green ichor was indeed dripping from his leg. He repressed a shudder.
“Thank you for the reminder,” he told her, his voice sardonic.
The Bugisher winced, in a rare show of sympathy. “Sorry,” she said.
“…but look!” exclaimed Topaz, changing the subject. “I stole a little something from the quote-unquote ‘heroes!’” she sing-songed.
She pulled a scroll of parchment from where she’d hidden it, beneath her wings, brandishing it for her cellmate to see.
“The Summoning Matrix?” he said, taking it, and smoothing it down. “What do you hope to accomplish by choosing the next reader?” he asked, tracing over the runes, idly.
Topaz shrugged. “You’re the unicorn, ‘Eyes,” she said. “I just saw the opportunity, so I took it.”
She brushed a hoof over her wings, smoothing down a few stray feathers. “Anyway, they’ve replaced me three of the last five iterations. High time for someone else to sit things out, I think.”
He hummed in agreement.
“Interesting,” Idol noted, his horn glowing as he levitated the scroll at eye level.
Having no other writing materials, he smeared a hoof with his own ichor, before adding a few lines to the characters on the scroll.
“If these two runes are altered,” Idol continued, “it changes to spell so that replacing the Power Ponies summons six of the same reader, rather than six different readers.”
Topaz blinked. “How would that even work?”
Idol shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Shall I try it?”
Topaz expression lit up. “Do it!” she said, before beginning a chant. “Do! It! Do! It…!”
“Very well,” said Idol, before charging the scroll with magic.
It lit up, its previously soft glow becoming a blinding beacon of light.
“Hey!” called one of the guards. “What do you two think you’re doing in there!?”
The spell completed, and the scroll vanished, presumably returning to its storage chest in the Power Ponies’ headquarters.
“Why nothing officers,” replied Topaz, with a grin, “nothing at all.”
Several hours later, the Bugisher and Idol Eyes’ escape planning was interrupted by the sight of the Maneiac being thrown into the cell opposite them.
“Hey, Maneiac!” taunted Topaz. “Nice job standing up to the ‘Power Ponies’! You lasted all of, what, four hours?”
Instead of rising to the bait, however, the Maneiac caught sight of Idol and promptly froze, her disheveled mane doing nothing to alleviate her harried appearance.
“Sweet Scented Styling Gel!” the Maniac exclaimed. “Not another one!”
Idol and Topaz exchanged a confused glance, not knowing what to think of such a statement.
So far as the two of them were aware, Idol was the only one of his ‘kind’ in Maretropolis. Perhaps that was not so in the world that the latest batch of readers had been summoned from? Ten or twelve iterations ago, they’d gotten a reader from a world composed entirely of humans, after all, so such a thing was well within the realm of possibility, but still…
Before the Bugisher and her sidekick could ask for clarification, however, the Power Ponies arrived, most likely to check on the Maneiac.
Though, after only a cursory glance at the villain, the group of heroes had instead turned to face the opposing cell.
“Where’s the scroll?” demanded Matter-Horn.
Topaz blinked. “Beg pardon?”
“The Scroll,” Matter-Horn reiterated in irritation. “The summoning scroll? We know it was you two behind this latest batch of readers, so don’t bother trying to deny it.”
“What does it matter?” asked Idol. “The Maneiac is defeated. They are no longer our concern.”
“No, see, that’s the thing,” said Saddle Rager, with a snarl. “They’re still here.”
“Normally,” began Radiance, “we might offer you freedom in exchange for helping us resolve such an issue with the readers, but—considering that this is your fault in the first place—we instead issue an ultimatum.”
A lasso snaked through the bars of the cell, lashing Topaz and Idol together and tightening, uncomfortably.
“Get these readers home,” said Mistress Marevelous, “or your sentence will be tripled.”
“Understood?” said Zapp, lightning flashing through the window behind the Power Ponies, throwing their shadowy silhouettes across the villainous duo’s cell.
Eyes wide at the serious threats made by the normally camp group of heroes, Topaz and Idol could only nod.
“Honestly,” said Topaz, as she and Idol trotted down the street towards the Power Ponies’ headquarters, “I don’t know how they expect the two of us to solve things. Villains don’t fix things, we break them; it’s part of the job description.”
“I would tend to agree,” said Idol, “But, since they have, indeed, turned to us, they are essentially conceding defeat. This plot of ours is one which they cannot defeat. This day marks our victory. We have won, and we are not even imprisoned for the feat.”
The Bugisher lit up, cackling in mirth. “Excellent work, my minion!” she congratulated. “Now, let us see what it is our efforts have—wait, is that a human?”
She turned, becoming distracted at the sight. Humans only ever came to Maretropolis as readers.
Sure enough, the teal-haired, charcoal-skinned human in question wore a purple lycra suit in the same style as Matter-Horn’s.
He sat at a café table outside Claw’s Grill and Diner, next to a quadrupedal being wearing Radiance’s bedazzled navy bodysuit.
In contrast to the human, however, this second individual was a species that neither of them had ever seen before. They were very… pink, with blue eyes and a soft demeanor.
Topaz caught Idol’s eyes, and the two of them remained silent, slowing their pace as they passed the table, listening to what conversation they could overhear.
“…and I enjoy my work at Crystal Prep, Skyphos, I truly do,” the human was saying. “A security guard’s job is often a predictable one, and I thrive on routine, but this…”
His eyes flashed red, and fangs jutted out from beneath his upper lip, “…is anything but,” he finished, glumly, sawing at the meat on his plate with a steak knife.
‘Skyphos’ let out a sigh. “Well, Idol—”
The two villains started upon hearing the familiar name, through Skyphos’ gaze remained firmly fixed on the human opposite him.
“—no one can tell you how to live your life,” Skyphos continued, “but I strongly suspect that you’re overreacting. Having to adjust to a ‘new normal’ doesn’t mean that this won’t eventually be, well, normal for you…”
By that point, the Bugisher and Idol Eyes were too far away to hear anything else, and they resumed their brisk pace from before.
“Well,” said Topaz, “I suppose that accounts for two of the six, but why did one of them share your name, I wonder?” she mused.
Idol’s brow furrowed in concentration. “The only thing I can think of is that altering the runes using my own ichor might have tied the matrix to me, in some manner.”
“Huh,” said Topaz. “You said you set it to summon six of the same pony. Does that mean that it summoned six of you?”
Idol glared at this employer. “Did ‘Skyphos’ look anything like me?”
“No,” acknowledged Topaz, “but the multiverse is a big place, so who knows? And I could certainly see some resemblance between you and Human Idol.”
Idol frowned, looking less than enthused at the prospect. “We’ll see in a few minutes, I suppose,” he conceded, as they finally reached the Power Tower.
Idol Eyes’ horn glowed, and the door opened.
“After you, Mistress,” he said.
Topaz nodded in thanks, before striding into the building with the utmost confidence. A villain had to keep up appearances, after all.
Idol followed, and the door swung shut behind them.
Things were mostly quiet in the tower, as they made their way to the elevator, with only the occasional tremor shuddering through the building, indicating that something momentous was most likely occurring on the top floor.
“The stairs would probably be safer…” Topaz admitted, pushing the call button, causing the door to open immediately, for the elevator was already on the ground floor, “…but like hay am I walking up ten flights of stairs. And it’s not like we need to set a good example for the fillies and colts,” she added, as the doors closed, and the lift began its upwards journey. “Perks of the job, I suppose,” she finished.
Idol Eyes snorted. “If worst comes to worst, I’m certain that we could escape from an ordinary elevator,” he pointed out. “We’ve escaped far tighter security in the past. Remember Cowcatraz?”
Topaz snickered. “No prison can hold us,” she said, “but they should have known better than to imprison you in a cell made of stone.” She chuckled, before sobering. “Pity they learned from their mistakes and started incorporating binding runes.”
“I have something of an affinity for runic magic,” Idol offered. “I’m certain that, with time, I’ll be able to overcome even those restrictions.”
“Really?” said Topaz. “I assumed it was just a unicorn thing. That does explain why you always seem to take ponies by surprise with your spells, though. Does that mean that the summoning matrix…?” she began, but was interrupted by the doors sliding open, to reveal the Power Ponies’ inner sanctum.
Most of the room was sunken, the elevator having opened on the same level as the catwalks that crisscrossed the ceiling.
Said catwalks were already occupied by a pony in Fili-Second’s white and purple leotard, who flashed from point to point on the walkways, trying to obtain the best view of what seemed to be a fight going on below.
The two villains left the elevator and peered over the edge, to see three combatants locked into a standstill.
A black-coated unicorn with a teal mane in Miss Marevelous’ costume had his lasso wrapped around a red bug-pony who wore Saddle-Ragers’ slitted teal costume, the rope holding him back from attacking another, taller, bug pony—this one with black chitin resembling Idol’s—who wore Zapp’s black and white supersuit.
“Still think that they’re not you?” Topaz asked, with an amused glance in her sidekick’s direction.
“Order preserve us,” grumbled Idol, before stepping off the platform and plummeting down to the floor. below.
“Showoff,” scoffed the Bugisher as she headed for the stairs, herself.
Time to get this sorted out, she decided.
“…and assault on another being is unlawful!” Topaz heard Miss Marevelous’ stand-in reader exclaim, as she finally reached the floor and became level with the three fighters.
The pony was obviously trying to deescalate the situation, Topaz thought, as she watched him tug, fruitlessly, on the lasso restraining the would-be assailant.
Zapp’s stand-in snorted, as unmoved by the pacifistic sentiment as her opponent was by the lasso.
“What are you, a Guard?” she asked, obviously unconcerned with the danger she was facing.
‘Marevelous’ nodded. “Yes.”
‘Zapp’ frowned. “Yes, what?”
“I am a Guard,” he responded.
She blinked. “… seriously?” she asked.
“Enough!” cried ‘Rager’s stand-in. “I will not be restrained by pointless laws. I am Idol Threat! My Patron is the Alicorn of Fire, my charge is the destruction of evil, and that is a Changeling Queen! You will not sway me from my mission!” he finished, as his muscles began to bulge, signaling the use of Saddle Rager’s powers.
Zapp’s stand in—the so-called ‘Changeling Queen’—remained unimpressed. “Hooves, let him go,” she instructed, in a commanding tone. “I can handle him.”
‘Hooves’ hesitated a moment, before relenting.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he conceded, reeling his lasso back, leaving the two contestants to face each other.
Idol Threat’s anger continued to rise, fueling the growth of his form into something hulking and colossal.
‘Her Majesty’ began charging a lightning attack, shedding sparks off her horn, as she did so.
There was one moment of almost perfect peace and stillness, which all watching understood to be the calm before the storm.
…and then Idol Threat vanished, the tendrils of familiar rune magic coruscating about him as his form disappeared from view.
Zapp’s stand-in blinked, her attack fading as quickly as her opponent had. “…what just happened?” she asked.
Topaz scoffed. “Well,” she said. “That was anti-climactic.”
“Indeed,” agreed Idol Eyes, moving to stand beside her. “Though, if we can work out the logic of why the return clause activated at such a delay, it may help us in returning the other five.”
At that point, all attention was on Topaz and Idol Eyes. Fili-Second’s substitute had even rushed down to join them.
Now that they were standing still, the two of them could tell that Fili-Second’s stand-in was another black-coated teal-maned unicorn, just like ‘Hooves,’ the stand-in for Miss Marevelous.
The Changeling Queen blinked. “Topaz, my love, is that you?” she said, eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight of the costumed Pegasus before her.
“… excuse me?” said Topaz, seeming unsettled.
“Ah, never mind,” said the Queen, smoothing over the hurt in her expression at Topaz’ lack of recognition. “I mistook you for someone else.”
Idol Eyes glanced at Topaz in consideration. That another version of himself might have feelings for Topaz was unexpected, as he, himself, had never thought of her in that light. In fact, he’d always gotten the impression that the tension between the Bugisher and Queen Bee had been at least as much romance as it was rivalry.
But he soon shunted aside such speculations as unimportant when the ‘Queen’ turned her attention to him.
“And I don’t suppose you’re Skyphos?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Idol Eyes,” he introduced himself. “Sidekick.”
“I’m the Bugisher,” said Topaz, drawing herself up into an impressive pose. “Supervillain.”
Zapp’s stand-in nodded. “And I am Isoptera, Queen of the Changelings.”
Fili-Second’s stand in spoke up. “I’m a Gatherer Drone,” he said, “though I hail from the Hive of Queen Chrysalis.”
Marevelous’s stand-in closed off at the self-proclaimed ‘Gatherer Drone’s introduction.
“Idol Hooves,” he said, stiffly. “Corporal in the Canterlot Royal Guard.”
“The changeling who just vanished was Idol Threat,” Isoptera continued. “And Idol Hands and Skyphos should be around here, somewhere.”
“The human and the Pink One?” said Idol Eyes. “We saw them on our way here. I’m certain that we could catch up to them, if we wished—” he started, but was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking.
They all turned to see that a hole, perhaps the size of a baseball, had appeared in the wall-sized window looking out over the city. As they watched, cracks spiderwebbed out from the edges, lacing through the pane of glass.
Skyphos, with wings on his back much like Idol Eyes’ own, flew to approach the from outside, like a bug testing a windowpane. He reached out a hoof to tap the glass…
…and the entire window shattered, allowing him to fly in and join them.
“Well, that’s one way to make an entrance, I suppose,” said Skyphos, landing and folding down his wings, glancing around before frowning.
“Wait,” said Skyphos. “Where’s ‘Hands?” he asked, before turning his gaze upwards.
His shoulders slumped in relief, as he spotted what appeared to be a bat fluttering around the catwalks.
“’Hands!” Skyphos called. “Get down here!”
The bat closed its wings and dropped, morphing as it did so into a mass of shadows, which flattened out as it hit the floor, before gathering itself back into the form of a human, and finally taking shape as Idol Hands.
“My Horse Friends!” he exclaimed, “I have had a revelation!”
“That’s wonderful, ‘Hands,” said Isoptera, taking the human’s overenthusiasm in stride. “Would you like to share it in the Friendship Circle?”
At Isoptera’s words, the others immediately gathered around so that they formed a circle and all sat down together.
“They can’t be serious,” muttered Idol Eyes, but all this did was cause Skyphos realize that he and Topaz weren’t with them.
“Hey, new guy!” called Skyphos. “You get over here, too!”
“What?” said Idol Eyes, taken aback.
“You’re one of us, aren’t you?” Skyphos asked, completely undeterred.
“I…” Idol Eyes exchanged a glance with Topaz. “I suppose I am?”
The two of them moved forward, reluctantly, and joined the circle. Gatherer Drone and Idol Hooves obligingly budged over to make room.
“Wait,” said Idol Hands, frowning, “where did ‘Threat go?”
“Home, most likely” said Idol Hooves. “The magic felt the same as that which brought us here.”
“And what about Horse Topaz and Not-Red ‘Threat?” asked Idol Hands, still confused, looking to the two newest additions to the circle.
“Idol Eyes and ‘The Bugisher,’” explained Isoptera. “They hail from this universe, I believe?” she said, with a glance at the two of them.
“That is correct,” Topaz confirmed, and Idol nodded.
“Isoptera,” said Skyphos, sounding uneasy “You’re a Queen?”
Isoptera looked blank for a moment, before glancing up at her crown in realization. “Ah, right, you two weren’t here for that,” she said.
“Yes,” Isoptera continued, looking somewhat chagrined, “while I took the form of a Drone, I am, in fact, Queen of my Hive. I apologize for keeping this from you all, but I was worried about your reactions, and, well, considering how ‘Threat acted once he found out…”
“We understand your caution,” said Idol Hooves, though his tone remained wooden.
“But you haven’t ascended?” asked Skyphos, frowning. “Is there any particular reason why?”
Isoptera paused. “From what you’ve told me,” she said, “’Ascension’ involves directly exchanging love with another changeling? My first action, upon becoming Queen of my Hive, was to institute a system of currency similar to what the ponies use, but designed for us changelings—a ‘Crypto-Currency,’ if you will—using crystals which store emotion.
“I named it using the ancient gryphon word for ‘wedge,’” she continued, “in reference to the wedges of crystal originally mined to make the money, and also the Equestrian word for a unit of currency.”
She glanced at the rest of them, gauging their reactions. “Once Coin-Bit was introduced,” Isoptera went on, “it became interchangeable with nearly every other form of currency in Equestria. Where before, we’d been struggling just to maintain our numbers… well, suddenly, through working jobs in Equestria proper, we could obtain more energy than we knew what to do with.
“And, over the following years, accepting energy or emotions directly from another Changeling or Pony became somewhat… taboo? Or at least a marker of intimacy. As Queen, it is important that I maintain a professional distance from those in the Hive under my authority.”
She shrugged. “And our relationship with the rest of the world has remained good,” she said, “so I don’t see the necessity of undermining our progress as a species by experimenting with something so volatile as unharnessed emotion.”
Isoptera shook her head. “But we’re getting off-topic,” she said. “’Hands, what was it you were saying about a revelation?”
“Ah,” said Idol Hands, who had been listening to Isoptera in rapt attention. He startled at the attention, but changed gears easily enough.
“I simply realized that I must use my vampire for good and not for evil!” he announced, beaming at them all.
“… okay, then,” said Isoptera, somewhat blindsided by the off-the-wall nature of the statement.
“That’s wonderful, ‘Hands!” Skyphos went on, clearly well-practiced in the art of circle-time. “I’m sure that’ll make things easier for you, back home.”
“Thank you,” said Idol Hands, sweeping his gaze over the rest of them, “for everything. I’ll never forget any of you.”
“This has indeed been a memorable excursion from reality,” agreed Idol Hooves.
“Well, then,” said Skyphos. “Does anyone else have anything to share, while we’re at it?”
“If any of you find yourselves in need of emotion or blood,” offered Gatherer Drone, “I would be only too happy to supply it.”
Everyone else looked uncomfortable at the statement. Idol Eyes and Topaz stared openly.
Isoptera hesitated. “I didn’t want to say anything before, Gatherer,” she said, “But you are aware that you are a pony and not a changeling, yes?”
Gatherer Drone nodded. “I was banished from my town for a construction error,” he agreed. “I might have died in the wilderness, had the Hive not taken me in. They never demanded anything in return; they never even asked.
“They gave me the post of Gatherer Drone to limit my exposure to the rest of the hive and mitigate my risk for emotional drain. But they still check up on me frequently, and aid me whenever I require it. How could I not come to love such a people? And how could I do anything but return to them the love which they kindled within me?”
“I see,” said Isoptera, suddenly finding herself blinking back tears. She hadn’t felt love this strong from anyone besides Topaz.
But this was also different, somehow, from love emitted by ponies, in that it was channeled, specific, and somehow, paradoxically, almost dispassionate. Isoptera felt as though something within her was singing, like the touch of a hoof on a wet wineglass. She would have to look into this, once she returned home; it might benefit the Hive.
“It seems I misunderstood the situation,” Isoptera said, her eyes soft. “I apologize.”
“Think nothing of it,” said Gatherer Drone, as his form began to glow.
He looked down, smiling as he realized what was happening.
“It’s been an honor fighting beside you all,” he said. “Farewell.”
And then he was gone.
“So,” said Idol Hooves. “It would appear that we are not, in fact, trapped here.”
“The comic book said that we could go home once the Maneiac was defeated,” said Idol Hands. “Could it be that she is not truly beaten?”
“No,” said Idol Eyes, “the conditions of the summoning have been fulfilled. The six of you should have been sent home, already. This should have happened within minutes of achieving victory, but, for some reason, it hasn’t.”
“Well,” said Skyphos, “Idol Threat and Gatherer Drone got sent back. There must be some sort of trigger. We just need to find it.”
“Maybe…” said Isoptera, before trailing off. The others looked to her, in interest.
“Gatherer and ‘Threat went back when they became emotional,” she continued. “Perhaps that is the key. What was it, again, that you said was necessary for ‘love-sharing’?” she asked, turning to the brightest of their number.
Skyphos sat up straighter. “Well, I’m hardly an expert,” he admitted. “I’m a potter, not a counselor. But for me, it felt as though… you have to gather all the love you can within yourself, not just for one specific pony, or one specific place, but all the love you can muster for all the things and people you can manage. Then, you share that with someone else.
“You can try with me, if you’d like,” Skyphos offered, “and then I’ll reflect it back to you.”
Isoptera was somewhat skeptical, but was willing to make the effort, if it meant going home. As Queen, her stores of love were vast, and it would be a simple matter to transfer them to Skyphos.
But, from the ‘changedling’s description, it sounded as though the emotional energy, by itself, wouldn’t be enough. Recalling Gatherer Drone’s transcendent love, Isoptera used some of her stores to activate her own emotions, feeling, rather than merely transferring.
She thought of Topaz, of the Hive, of the beauty of architecture, and of the elegance of crystals.
Then, Isoptera concentrated on sharing, not just the energy, but the sentiment, with Skyphos.
Skyphos smiled.
And Isoptera’s vision whited out.
When the tide of feelings subsided down to a normal level, the first thing Isoptera noticed was that her head felt heavier than usual.
“A Queen, even still,” she heard Skyphos say, with something like awe in his voice.
Isoptera shook her head, but the weight didn’t dissipate.
“What?” she asked. Of course, she was a Queen. Why wouldn’t she be? She just had to find out why her balance felt so off.
Glancing down at her legs revealed that they were not her original form; they were more like a pony’s. She was still clothed in that ridiculous black-and-white spandex outfit, but the color of her chitin was definitely different.
“Why am I…” Isoptera paused, “…chartreuse?”
“You’ve ascended,” said Skyphos. “Here, maybe you can see your reflection in the window…”
“Ah,” said Idol Hands. “I believe that I can help,” he said.
With a wave of his hands, he summoned a full-length mirror, double-taking as he noticed his own lack of a reflection, but recovering admirably, as he motioned Isoptera closer.
“Oh,” said Isoptera, “I’ve got antlers.”
That was why her head was so heavy.
“And I’m still here,” she said, with a sigh. “Apparently emotion alone isn’t enough.”
“Thank you for your sacrifice,” said Idol Hooves, somber as a mourner at a funeral.
Skyphos snorted. Idol Hooves had made no secret of his dislike for all things colorful.
“Honestly,” said Isoptera, “I do prefer my original color scheme,” she admitted. Her magic flashed as she turned her chitin back to its original black. She left the antlers, though. Honestly, she thought that she might prefer them to the crown.
Her energy stores were still there, Isoptera noted, but they were no longer being drawn upon every time she felt emotion. Rather, they’d only been drawn upon when she’d used magic. That meant that she could feel things to her heart’s content.
Like a pony.
Belatedly, Isoptera realized that she might very well have sabotaged the development of her entire species by introducing the crystal system, and denying her people the possibility of this… change, that she’d just undergone.
She would have to share this with her people once she returned, Isoptera knew, even if it destroyed the crypto-currency system she’d put so much effort into creating.
So be it, Isoptera decided. She was a Queen, and a Queen had a duty to her changelings.
So focused was Isoptera on her resolution, that she almost didn’t notice when Idol Hands dispelled the mirror, and stared at his own hands, which had lit up with the by-now-familiar spell matrix.
“Goodbye, my Friendship Horse Friends!” called Idol Hands. “I have no idea what I did to cause this, but I’m sure the rest of you will find your homes, as well!”
“Bye ‘Hands!” called Skyphos.
And then there were three.
Skyphos, Isoptera, and Idol Hooves sat in their much-reduced Friendship Circle, alongside Idol Eyes and the Bugisher.
“Three out of six, and it’s not even dinner time,” said Topaz. “I’d say we’re off to a good start.”
“Do we have any idea why the three of us are stuck here, in the first place?” asked Isoptera.
“Oh, that’s my fault,” Idol Eyes admitted, readily enough.
“…come again?” asked Skyphos, looking wary.
“It was a complicated endeavor,” said Idol Eyes. “But have any of you seen a scroll covered in runes anywhere in this facility?”
“You mean that scroll?” asked Idol Hooves, trotting over to the corner of the room and pulling on the scroll as it had apparently become stuck… halfway through the wall?
Not seeming to find anything uncanny about the situation, Idol Hooves tugged patiently at the scroll until it came free, miraculously still in one piece.
“… yes, actually,” said Idol Eyes, accepting the paper, gingerly, and unrolling it so that it lay flat on the floor.
“As villains,” Idol Eyes explained, glancing at the runes, “it is our duty to create conflict, to make things interesting for whatever readers we might have visiting. This time, it appears that we—I—might have gone too far. To be fair, however, no one has yet tried altering the summoning matrix as I did.”
“What did you change?”” asked Idol Hooves.
“I changed things so that six of the same reader would be summoned,” Idol Eyes explained. “The matrix seems to have resolved this impossible demand by pulling readers from six different parallel universes. We are all alternates of each other because I altered the runes using my own ichor. Or possibly merely because I was the one to alter the matrix.”
He re-read over the spell, frowning as he noticed something. “The runes have changed,” he noted, “beyond what I did myself. But the new characters are written in the original ink. It is as though the ritual itself was reshaped by what should have been a discrete and simple alteration.”
He continued reading for another few moments, his eyes widened as he reached a certain row of characters.
Isoptera began to glow.
“And that’s my cue, it seems” she said. “You’ll figure it out, ‘Eyes. I’m sure of it. Good luck!”
“Thanks!” called Skyphos.
But Isoptera was already gone.
“Anyway, ‘Eyes, what were you saying?” asked Skyphos. “’Eyes?”
Idol Eyes tore his sight away from the paper before him. “The victory conditions have been altered,” he said.
“How so?” asked Skyphos, in curiosity.
“Before, the spell required that a villain be defeated. This was written in the runic language as ‘defeating the demon before you.’ Now, the spell has altered so that readers are returned home after ‘defeating the demon within yourself.’”
“In other words,” said Idol Hooves, “Self-actualization.”
“Oh, really?” said Skyphos, sounding elated. “Is that all? That’s easy!”
“Is it?” asked Idol Hooves, sounding skeptical.
Skyphos waved off their doubtful stares. “I am a changeling,” he said. “In my world, the word is almost synonymous with self-reflection. Now, let me see…”
He closed his eyes, in concentration.
“When I was eight,” said Skyphos, “I became lost in the badlands. For two days I wandered, certain that I’d be rescued, certain that I was going to die of thirst, certain that the only thing in life was uncertainty.
“I wound up lost in a sandstorm,” he continued, “and had become half-buried in a dune, before I was eventually found by a caravan of pony traders.
“When I awoke, the first thing I saw was the earthenware pot on the bedside table. It sloshed when I moved it, full of water. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen,” Skyphos said, with a smile.
“I’d always traced my love of pottery back to my rescue by the caravan,” said Skyphos, “But I think what truly drew me to the profession of potter was the union of utility and beauty. A pot need not be pleasing to the eye, it only needs to hold water. But, at the same time, there’s no reason why a pot shouldn’t be beautiful.
“It is the same with a changeling,” Skyphos went on, gaining steam, “A changeling does not need to waste magic altering our appearance, but why shouldn’t we? Why shouldn’t we alter our color palettes to match the room we’re in? Why shouldn’t we change our shape to disguise ourselves on festival days? It is not necessary, but it makes what is necessary… pleasant.”
Sure enough, Skyphos’ form began to glow, and he grinned in satisfaction.
“Thanks for having me, ‘Eyes, Bugisher,” he said. “And hang in there, ‘Hooves!” he said. “You’ll be home soon enough, too!”
Skyphos vanished.
Idol Hooves stood facing Idol Eyes and the Bugisher.
“What do you mean, you ‘don’t engage in self-reflection’?!” Topaz demanded.
“As I said,” Idol Hooves answered. “I have orders, which prevent certain thoughts and actions, embedded into my psyche. As a result, I have found examining my own thoughts too closely to be… counterproductive.”
“…but this is required in order to send you home,” Idol Eyes pointed out.
“As you say,” said Idol Hooves.
“Don’t you think could, well, put in a little bit of effort?” asked Topaz. “If we can’t help you, the Power Ponies will lock us up and throw away the key.”
“You are self-proclaimed criminals,” said Idol Hooves. “I see no issue with this.”
Topaz snorted in anger. “We meant that you’d be stuck here, you absolute dolt!”
“Be that as it may,” said Idol Hooves, “should I fail to return to Canterlot, another shall take my place in the Guard. Should I not return to be Topaz’ ‘room-mate,’ she has ample colleagues and friends to choose from, even if they are not as valuable to her as research subjects.”
He sighed. “I shall do my best, but I cannot promise you the outcome which you desire.”
“We’ll come up with something,” Idol Eyes assured him.
“Attempt number one…” said Idol Eyes, in civilian disguise, which consisted of wrap-around sunglasses to hide his eyes, garish leg-warmers to hide his leg-holes, and a horrific wig to hide his mane.
“…yoga,” Idol Eyes finished, with a sweep of his foreleg.
Idol Hooves followed the instructor, blithely enough, seeing no issue with physical exertion.
“My mother,” Topaz began, then winced. “My mother always swore by it,” she continued.
Topaz’ own civilian disguise consisted of nothing more than a pair of spectacles, which she fiddled with, as a nervous gesture.
Idol Eyes nodded. “Hopefully she spoke truly.”
“Attempt number five,” said Idol Eyes. “Psychiatry.”
“I have attempted hypnotism, in the past” Idol Hooves pointed out. “And this seems only a less potent version of what was already ineffective.”
Topaz sighed, deeply, dragging a hoof down her face. “Just try it, please?” she said.
“Very well,” said Idol Hooves, trotting over to speak with the secretary to confirm his appointment.
“Attempt number eight,” said Idol Eyes. “Mountain Climbing.”
“Attempt number twelve,” Idol Eyes bit out. “Underwater Basket Weaving.”
“Attempt number fifteen,” said Idol Eyes, through clenched teeth. “Slam Poetry.”
“Attempt number… Attempt. Number. I cannot do this anymore,” said Idol Eyes, his tone one of utter defeat.
Next to him, Topaz nodded in weariness.
Before him, Idol Hooves stood at attention.
“What is wrong with you?” said Idol Eyes. “Aren’t you worried about never getting to go home?”
Idol Hooves considered the statement. “While I would greatly enjoy returning home,” he admitted, “my happiness is, in the grand scheme of things, unimportant.”
Idol Eyes just stared at him, unable to fully articulate rage that was building within him.
“Maybe we’re going about this in the wrong way,” offered Topaz, though she still sounded exhausted. “’Hooves, who was it that gave you those ‘orders’ in the first place?”
Idol Hooves appeared to think about it for a few minutes, considering whether or not to answer them, before eventually replying, in a perfectly level voice, “Queen Chrysalis.”
“Is she a Changeling Queen in your world, as well?” asked Topaz. Changeling readers appeared, occasionally, though she was far from certain about what their larger political situation was in Idol Hooves’ world. And, after meeting Isoptera, Topaz was reluctant to make assumptions.
Idol Hooves nodded.
Topaz frowned. “That’s odd,” she said. “Why would a Changeling Queen put a curse on a pony?”
Idol Hooves swallowed, in what might have been a nervous tic.
“I do not believe that She would,” Idol Hooves answered.
Topaz’ brow furrowed. “But she did it to—oh.” She looked up at Idol Hooves. “Oh,” she said. “You’re not a pony, are you?”
Idol Hooves shook his head, emerald flames washing over him as his disguise dropped.
“I am not,” he confirmed. “If ponies know, or guess, then I can freely discuss my species. But, if they do not, then I have no choice in the matter but to be indirect.”
“How many of these ‘orders’ do you have?” Topaz wanted to know.
“I am not certain,” ‘Hooves replied. “I do not become aware of them until I trigger them. But those that I am aware of include: Do Not Reveal Your Species, Do Not Return To The Hive Or Lead Others There, Do Not Form Your Own Hive, Do Not Wander the Frozen North, Do Not Reproduce…”
“’Do Not Reproduce’?” Topaz repeated, in indignation. “You can’t have kids?”
“I may not produce offspring, no,” said Idol Hooves.
“You’re cursed,” said Idol Eyes, in realization.
Idol Hooves scoffed. “Hardly.”
“No, you are!” Idol Eyes insisted. “Most actions that would lead to you having a family—or even close friends—are forbidden to you. You must hide your true form or face persecution. Your existence is as cursed as my own, but… how can you be so, so complacent?”
“There is no point in despairing over what might have been,” said Idol Hooves, seeming perplexed. “A million doors may have closed before me, but a million more yet stand open. Happiness is not one single lake that can be dammed away forever. In fact, previous experience has led me to the conclusion that happiness is not water of any sort, especially not pool water.”
Idol Eyes screamed in frustration, his head dropping so far that it almost brushed the ground, as though brought low by the weight of his despair.
“I’m not like you,” said Idol Eyes, eventually. “I was a pony, once. My Special Talent was studying Rune Magic. One day, I misread the inscription on an ancient goblet. I had thought that the inscription read, ‘those who drink from me shall receive power.’ When I drank from it, I turned into this, this thing,” he finished, in loathing.
“A changeling,” offered Idol Hooves, helpfully.
“Yes, that,” spat Idol Eyes.
He took a breath to steady himself, before continuing, “I later learned that the correct translation was, ‘those who drink from me shall be cursed with power.’”
“After I changed,” said Idol Eyes, “my family disowned me, my friends abandoned me. The only one who can stand to be around me is Topaz. The only way I can gain respect is through fear. What do you say about that, huh? What’s my ‘road to happiness’ in this situation?”
“You are a changeling,” said Idol Hooves, blinking in confusion. “Why not simply change your appearance to be more to your liking?”
Idol Eyes scoffed. “It wouldn’t change who I am underneath. It wouldn’t change the fact that I’m a monster.”
“I beg to differ,” said Idol Hooves. “However, if you wish to become more… pastel…” Idol Hooves frowned in distaste. “You need only exchange love with another being to accomplish Skyphos’ much-touted ‘ascension.’ Your inability to do so makes your appearance a cage of your own making.”
“I’m not going to give in to following the curse’s rules,” said Idol Eyes.
Idol Hooves shrugged. “That is, of course, your choice. But, truthfully, there is nothing wrong with the way you look. Your chitin is healthy, your eyes clear and focused, your fangs sharp and clean. I adopt my pony form in order to placate the Orders, but I do not favor it over my original form. In fact, I often spend my days off undisguised.
“Of course, consequentially,” Idol Hooves went on, “I understand, completely, if you wish return your appearance to what it was before you were cursed. There is nothing wrong with preferring your original form. The important thing is not to sabotage yourself in pursuit of your goals.”
Idol Eyes glanced at Idol Hooves. “This really is old news to you, isn’t it?” he asked. “If this were a fresh realization, you would have gone home by now.”
“I am a changeling of simple taste,” Idol Hooves admitted. “I prefer my food wriggling and my moral quandaries solved.”
Idol Eyes snorted, despite himself. He had to admit that, despite everything, ‘Hooves really did seem to have his life together, as much as circumstances allowed, at least. And, really, if this ball of obliviousness and blind determination could find happiness, then who was Idol Eyes to say that it was out of his own reach?
Had he ever really tried to make the best of his life, rather than lamenting over how things could have turned out differently?
Idol Eyes wondered what would happen if he tried it.
He was starting to think that he might even want to try it.
Idol Hooves vanished.
“… what?” said Idol Eyes.
“What?” said Topaz.
“What!?” the two of them repeated in unison.
“So, let me get this straight,” said Topaz, attempting to digest Idol’s explanation. “The victory conditions of the ‘spell matrix’ demanded that the readers defeat the ‘demons within,’ but the spell couldn’t differentiate between readers?”
“Worse,” said Idol Eyes, who had spent the past six hours going over the copy he’d made of the altered spell matrix, whose original would probably have been fixed by now, since Idol Hooves had finally been sent home.
“The readers were all alternate versions of myself,” began Idol. “Not only could the spell not differentiate between the six readers, the spell couldn’t differentiate between the six readers and me.”
“So, when one of you had an epiphany…”
“The spell would select one of us at random and reverse the summoning,” Idol completed the thought. “When Isoptera ascended, it was Idol Hands who was sent back. When I realized the victory conditions had changed, it was Isoptera who was sent back. It could have been me. Any of those times, it could have been me. By the time it was only ‘Hooves and myself, it was a fifty-fifty shot.”
“Huh,” said Topaz. “What would have happened, if you’d been ‘sent home.’”
“I do not know,” said Idol Eyes. “I do not want to know. Possibly nothing, possibly I’d be deleted from existence. I was absurdly lucky, and I am never gambling ever again.”
Topaz laughed, despite herself placing a hoof on his shoulder.
“’Eyes,” she said, her eyes warm and mirthful, “if you wanna go straight, we can go straight.”
Idol blinked. “What?”
“We don’t have to be villains, anymore,” Topaz clarified. “Not if you think it’s too risky.”
Idol looked absurdly touched for a moment, before he brushed it off with a scoff.
“Topaz,” he said, “many words could be used to describe the two of us, but ‘straight’ isn’t one of them.”
One week later, Queen Bee faced off against the Maneiac, who had been replaced by a reader for that iteration. The Maneiac’s stand-in was a Dragon who seemed to be having the time of her life with the novelty that was ‘hair follicles.’
As the two combatants sized each other up, there was a great crash, and the wall of the warehouse collapsed, revealing a flying machine made of scrap metal held together using runic magic.
“Hey, Maneiac!” said the Bugisher. “You want any help?”
“Butt out, Bugisher!” exclaimed Queen Bee. “This is my fight!”
“Oh,” said the Bugisher, “But we weren’t asking you, were we? And I need to debut my new partner in crime, as well,” she said, gesturing to the bug-pony next to her with a ‘ta-da’ hoofwave.
Queen Bee massaged her temple. “Bugisher, I’ve already met your stupid sidekick. Now, why don’t you and Idolize turn around and—”
“Sequence,” said the changeling.
“What?” said Queen Bee.
“I am no longer Idol Eyes,” he announced. “I am Idol Sequence.”
Behind them, the runes covering the crashed flying machine lit up, rearranging the pieces of metal into a battle mech.
“Join us, Maneiac!” said the Bugisher, laughing maniacally and holding out a hoof. “Together, we shall rule this city with an iron hoof.”
The ‘Maneiac’ grinned up at them.
“’Bee’ right there!” she said, with a massive, provocative smile aimed at directly Queen Bee.
“Oh?” said Queen Bee. “We’ve got a punster on our hands, do we?”
The Bugisher shrieked with laughter, moving over to allow the Maneiac the driver’s seat, instead climbing out to defend the mech from attack. Idol Sequence followed her.
“Shall we?” asked Topaz.
“Let’s,” Idol agreed.
End.
