Watcher Nest Six; an 'L' shaped radio station connecting Sweet Street and Rainbow Street together. If it hadn't been for the bright moon, I probably would have galloped passed it without noticing. Maybe now I could finally release my breath, for the pale moonlight threatened to show the Changelings where I was every step of the way. I should never trust the light. Many windows were covered in black sheets, and not a single light slipped out of the building.

I pushed hard on the door, a little too hard. It slammed against the wall as whispering ponies gazed at me. Shattered Shield exited the back door behind the wide-eyed desk pony, a thin trail of smoke escaping his mouth and leading back into the alley outside. Why was he here? I couldn't trust him. He was a part of the dark side of ponies. He had left the light when he joined the commies. I galloped toward the desk pony, who followed me with bulged eyes. I said:

"The Changelings have infiltrated high-command and know about the Watcher Nests. They know who the resistance leaders are and where they live. We need to secure the Watcher Nests before things get any worse!"

Bullets whizzed through the opened door and pierced the black drapes as they shattered the windows. The ponies who had frantically shot up from their flanks to send the message immediately fell to the floor and covered their heads. The desk pony summoned a green shield behind me as I threw myself over the counter, pressing my back against the desk.

Shattered Shield slid to the left beside me and the desk pony. The desk pony opened a drawer and pulled a pistol from the inside and began firing blindly out the door toward our attackers. Shattered Shield rested a hoof on my left shoulder and locked eyes with me.

He said, "You need to tell Emboldenning Charisma. He's gone out in the dead of night to meet with Chiseled Stone and Sweet Tooth." That's where she was. "If what you say is true, then one of them might be a Changeling. Go, now! They're on Fraud Street meeting in the warehouse."

We all helped in planning the assassination of Trimmel. Why would the Changeling assist in that? Maybe they were peer pressured, or perhaps they had no need for Trimmel anymore and saw this as an opportunity. It wouldn't be the first time they killed their own kind. Could I really not trust my fellow resistance leaders?

Shattered Shield shook my shoulder. "Go," he yelled, "You might be able to save one of them, or at least kill the coward who betrayed us! Take the back door, we'll handle this."

Bolting out the opened back door, I headed left. A lit cigarette laid there, the thin red tip slowly fading away into a black form of what once was: hope. Hope of a better life. I needed to get to Emboldenning Charisma; if he dies, then the resistance dies. He was the mastermind behind everything, and my failure cannot be the reason Equestria's fuse, Equestria's light, extinguishes. I turned right and exited the alley.

I left that dark alley and its dark ideas. The poor radio station ponies; I hope they live. Shattered Shield, even if you are a pony, I hope you die. Just try to die for the resistance, and not the Changelings.

No gunshots could be heard from the radio station, which was now a great distance away.

I was galloping as hard as I could. A single, alone gunshot erupted from the warehouse in front of me. The upper windows ignited the black night in a vibrant yellow. Just as quickly, the light was gone. A small door was swung open on top of three steps. I did not have time, I might already be too late; I threw myself inside.

Boxes were lazily stacked and scattered everywhere. In some places, there were only two boxes stacked on top of one another, but in others, it looked like a large temple of wood. At the beginning of the entrance, a few boxes were knocked onto the floor. Splotches of red blood were on top of the crate. I refuse to face the truth, there was no way he had died.

I ran around the boxes. I must remain optimistic, it has gotten me so far.

It wasn't Charm who laid there. Non, it was Sweet Tooth, her mouth agape and body parallel to the box, lifeless. The real Sweet Tooth, her scar was still there. The gunshot was for her.

Another gunshot, it landed in the crate beside me. I ducked behind Sweet Tooth's gravestone. The bright flash was gone, and the sound of two ponies hitting the floor echoed in the vast warehouse. Now was my chance!

Hopping over the boxes, I sprinted around the right side of the grand box temple. A brown horned stallion tossed himself onto the white horned one.

Baron Von Gold was pinning Charm's back against the floor, wailing on him like a cornered animal. Charm's expression was a simple description: angry. Angry at the loss of Sweet Tooth, angry at the Changeling infiltration, and angry at the pony he trusted, who was now pinning him to the ground, delivering vicious blows to his bleeding muzzle. Charm won't die because of me.

The left side of Charm's face and Gold's back slightly brightened with a lavender tint. Baron Von Gold looked over his shoulder, halting his beat down. Gold's eyes widened and hooves shot up to cover his face as I let the spell go. A loud whirl let out as wooden boxes flew outward from the blast of energy. Gold was sent flying into a singular crate; the crate shattered, splintering wood into his fur and skin. I felt no remorse. The gun slightly drifted right, further from Charm's reach. I raced to Charm, who was coughing uncontrollably and smacking his chest with a hoof. The light had been preserved, and now was the time for retaliation.

I will never know how long Baron Von Gold was a Changeling, or if there ever was a resistance member named Baron Von Gold in the first place, but none of it mattered now. Vive la résistance, you filthy cockroach.

Chiseled Stone emerged from a pile of boxes, coughing and grasping his bleeding red chest with one hoof. He limped over to the dropped gun, merely feet away from his position. Why did I not see him? Am I too blind to see what's right in front of me? Drops of red blood trailed him as he collapsed onto the gun. He looked up, grey and lifeless eyes locking with mine, but it felt as if he was looking through the lens of my eyes and into my soul.

He asked, "You too?"

Chiseled Stone tried lifting himself to grab the gun, but he trembled and his head and hoof dropped to the floor, concealing the gun with his body again. Chiseled Stone was no longer moving.

I peered to Charisma, who's horn was ignited as he lifted Stone's corpse off the gun. Charisma began bringing the pistol toward him. He sighed, staring down at the floor as if lost in thought.

Charisma chuckled and gazed back up toward me, asking, "You haven't been following me as well, have you?"

I grinned.

"I came to protect you, a job you clearly couldn't do yourself."

Charisma grinned and denied my hoof as he sat up. He let out a low cough as he began limping toward Sweet Tooth.

"She was strong, but she wasn't strong enough," he said.

My heart began to beat like a piston.

"I should have gotten here sooner, it was completely my fault."

Charm smiled, finally pulling the glowing green gun into his black hooves. Charm's free hoof, lacking any fur, trailed toward Baron Von Gold, who was still staring at the two of us defiantly. His blood, red as could be, slowly soaked his flank and the area around him.

A bullet went off. It was like bullet ants burrowing their way to a pony's heart. Coughing blood, blurred vision, all I could do was listen as I collapsed to the floor.

The Changeling laughed, patting Sweet Tooth's body. It said, "You ponies never learn. From Vanhoofer to Las Pegasus, and now to Canterlot—I stoke the fires of resistance, then seek out those who buy into the fables of freedom."

My vision sharpened. The Changeling, fitted with that same scar Emboldenning Charisma had. The same length, width, and color. Charisma grabbed my head, pulling me up from my stomach. "I'm glad you came to save me. Otherwise, I would not be available to root out the resistance in Manehatten," he said, laughing. "I truly thank you, mon amie, and now I return the favor," He smiled, baring his sharp teeth as he dropped me to the floor.

He looked toward the bodies of Chiseled Stone and Baron Von Gold, who had tried to stop him. The face of resistance, and the crusher of dreams. Those blue eyes trailed down to me. What have I done? The barrel obscured my view.

Blackness.

Author's Note

And there you have it! Please listen up, I need your help, reader. I wanted to limit myself exponentially on this story, and I wanted to still encourage you to become attached to the characters I've created, despite their little dialogue. I also wanted to practice pacing in this story, for I am still a beginner on that matter. If you disliked the story for it's failure to keep you interested: tell me! Write a comment on what I did wrong or what I failed to do; I don't want to make the same mistake again. Thank you for reading, reader!