Chapters "Mon amie , all of these flowers are gorgeous. I think I will take a bouquet of the white ones."
The mare nodded, she said, "White will go beautifully with your lavender coat, my dear, good choice."
The lingering Changeling shadow finally left my back. A puff of trapped air left my lungs. A few of the white petals were gently being brushed by the cold wind, and the smell was of life itself. Even floating beside me the smell was as alluring as its hidden meaning.
I turned, leaving the unintentionally long line behind me. At least that pegasus had something to do after the liberation. All I was good at was stopping beside the bakery for the hundredth time, then gazing up at that dashing horned white stallion who had his hooves propped upon the convex railing for the thousandth time, smirking defiantly to the bugs who flew by for the millionth time. The stallion had nothing to fear; he was Emboldening Charisma, after all.
His piercing gaze slowly descended through the crowds and onto me. A confident nod plastered his smirk into a grin from one side of the balcony to the other. Glass from the antique booths began chattering like teeth, and stifled gasps elicited from other ponies as the cobbled street cleared of life.
There was no turning back now. Among some of the fearful and panicked ponies, smiles and quiet cheers could be picked out individually. Where they failed to hide their early celebrations, they were experts at hiding the light weapons to make sure the deed was done. I trapped my cheers and saved them for after the assassination, but I couldn't hide the smile. The air felt filtered; filtered air the city itself gave out like a giant, complex tree of life. Never have I ever respected the Everfree, but its trees are an example of a perfect pony society: devoid of any and all forms of foreign rule.
Unicorns around the corner of this sloped street began to collapse to the sidewalk. I had stayed out the range of that MADAC for as long as I could, but now it was time for my fellow races to take over. My job was done. The MADAC turned onto the street and more unicorns, this time closer, began to crumble like dead Changelings in the middle of flight. They groaned in pain as its intensified field ridded all unicorns in its area of their magic, giving them massive headaches and dropping them to the sidewalk. Those evil bugs, their ruthless oppression will not go unpunished. Today, they will suffer as we have suffered.
"Gah!"
The flowers dropped to the ground. I was too weak. I fell to the sidewalk, just like the rest of my fellow horned ponies.
The armored car drove by. Its driver had a smug grin, for the Changeling reasonably believed the armored car discarded any chance of unicorns coming together and flipping it. The sun was flickering in-between columns of buzzing shadows as tanks too began to drive past. The drivers were practically sight-seeing at this point. They did not know.
Glass from nearby antique booths fell off the edge and to the sidewalks as I did. I groaned, clasping my head as more tanks drove past, but the pain did not let up. Through slit eyelids, a pony rushed over to me. He said something, but I couldn't make it out.
Mustering my strength, I picked my head up to view down the street. The infamous Trimmel and his tank were now turning the corner. Annoyingly, my little helper laid my head back down, saying something else I still did not understand.
A few Changelings began landing, pushing ponies further away from the road. Many ponies banded together to get the passed-out unicorns away from the road. The pegasus propped my back under the window to that bakery shop. Trimmel's tank was driving through now, but I could only see its tracks under the countless legs in front of me.
My eyes felt heavy. It was too tiring to keep them open. There was another MADAC rounding the corner, marking the end of the Changeling parade. The stern shouts of Changelings and gossiping ponies finally morphed into a combined stream of mumbles and incoherent noises.
One, singular bullet exploded. Screams erupted from the crowd as they tried to gallop away. The sounds were all around, some were going up the street and some were going down. A rapid barrage of bangs and flashes of light chased after the clopping hooves. Glass shattered and caked my fur. The green pegasus tending to me collapsed to the ground.
This headache. It's getting worse; they must have intensified the effects of the armored cars. The feeling of damped fur soon disappeared, too. Had I been shot? I opened my eyes, but there was nothing.
Blackness.
Sixty Inches Away from the Light
Casually trotting into that room was impossible. I had been tensed the whole trot here under the cover of darkness. The moonlight threatened to rat me out, but thankfully I was never seen—hopefully. Several important ponies were in there: Chiseled Stone, Baron Von Gold, and even Emboldening Charisma, the light of the resistance, to name a few. But then there was Shattered Shield, sat comfortably to the right of Chiseled Stone and across from Sweet Tooth. That pony had been fighting since the beginning, so why did he turn to the commies?
The room was only lit by a small oil lamp, situated onto a map of Canterlot spanning the large table. I had to squint my eyes to get accustomed to it, I had never seen such a bright lamp before. I would need to rub them when I sit down. The air reeked of tobacco. Everypony in the room had a pipe or cigarette, everypony except for Charisma. He didn't smoke. Another pony came in after me and summoned some wine and a few glasses as a refresher for us. What's the point in fighting for freedom if we don't keep our traditions?
Charisma had his two forehooves on the table, staring down at the knife stuck in the map. He would have been a model if not for the minute scar on his chest. Something only a close pony or camera would notice.
Stone tapped Charisma's shoulder and pointed at me with his wing.
Charisma peered up, his muzzle being caked in a deep orange glow. He smiled, and said, "Ah, Iris! I'm glad to see you've recovered."
"Thank you, mon ami."
Charisma grinned. He motioned for Baron Von Gold to pour him a drink, and said, "Then I suppose you're ready for act two, non?"
I chuckled. His Prench wasn't the greatest, perhaps I could help him. Taking a seat at the foot of the table, across from Charisma, would be a breather for me. I rubbed my eyes and smiled, replying:
"That sounds delightful."
"I'm glad it does." He dropped down off the table, and began his monologue, "Now, I understand we've been planning on attacking the arms factory over on Sweets Street, but considering just how successful our big reveal was a week ago, I think we should go even bigger for Act Two."
"How big?" Sweet Tooth asked, gazing up from the map and letting her scarred left eye be caked in a dirty orange glow.
"Big," Charisma answered, his shoulders slacked as he leaned into the table. "I'm sure you ponies have seen the giant radio tower in Canterlot Castle?"
Baron Von Gold's eyes widened. Chiseled Stone and Sweet Tooth exchanged glances. I kept my eyes on Charisma, everything he's done since Vanhoover has been for a good cause. Charisma grasped the levitating wine glass Baron Von Gold poured for him and took a sip of the purple drink.
Clearing his throat and setting the glass on the table, he began trotting to Chiseled Stone's side of the table. "The Changelings are bound to combat us on our road to freedom every step of the way. They're no doubt trying to infiltrate our headquarters as we speak," Charisma stopped as he turned and began trotting toward Baron Von Gold's side. "Now that just begs the question: 'How can I know if there is a Changeling spy in the headquarters before it is too late?'" he paused, his eyes began panning the room as Baron Von Gold's head drooped, no doubt brainstorming. Charisma locked eyes with me.
"By stealing their ciphers. We will have an operative on the inside take out the power. When the shields and lights are down, a commando squad will scale the walls and enter the nearest entry point to our target. The operative and our freshly formed squad will flee in the dead of night soon after," Charisma stopped in his previous spot. He smiled, stating, "That's the rundown of my plan, please, ask questions so I can go into more detail where needed."
Chiseled Stone grabbed his pipe and jabbed it at Charisma, puffing out a thin smoke over the table. "Dere's a giant green bubble around the Castle—how you gonna bypass that?"
A good question.
Charisma nodded, "The operator on the inside will cut the power."
I nodded. Sweet Tooth raised her wing. She asked, "Who vill be ze pony on ze inside?"
"Not a pony," Charisma replied, "a Changeling."
Chiseled Stone's pipe dropped as both his forehooves slammed the table, rattling the few glasses on the table. Baron Von Gold levitated a glass off the table and beside his head. Chiseled Stone hollered, "Dere's not a chance in Tartarus a Changeling would help us. Whatever contact you made, you best cut it."
Baron Von Gold pressed his cigarette into the ashtray beside him. He said, "I'm with Chiseled Stone on this one. Changelings are expert deceivers, Charm, that scoundrel is tricking you."
"On the contrary, Gold, they were one of the few Changelings who switched sides after the Hearth's Warming Truce so long ago. He's been helping me ever since the fall of Vanhoofer, so I assure you he is trustworthy."
Chiseled Stone shifted his gaze to the table. He sighed and returned to the ground, grumbling to himself.
Charisma nodded and smiled, returning his gaze to the left side of the table. "Anypony else, or should I say, anybody else?" Charisma slowly turned his head to another pony, hidden in the blindspot of the room behind me.
The dark spot ignited into a sea of green. A Changeling, complete with their black chitin and numerous holes, bared their teeth as they wiggled their way into a spot between Baron Von Gold and Sweet Tooth. The two tried their best to conceal their movement, but it slowly became noticeable as they drifted away from the Changeling.
"I remember when those deserters of Chrysalis's army 'let the love flow through them.' They turned into brightly colored, holeless Changelings, so why is that one black?" asked Shattered Shield.
"Seeing a bright Changeling in the midst of all the black ones would be a red flag, would it not?" Charisma said.
Shattered Shield nodded and peered at the knife in the table. The knife was implanted directly into the crescent-shaped castle at the edge of Canterlot. It's walls, once protecting the two sisters, now acts as a nest for the hive of bugs and invaders. Ponies once entered those walls to sort out their differences, but now they enter those walls to disappear and never be seen again. It's a shame I wasn't born a pegasus, I would love to be a part of the team.
Charisma straightened his back and his eyes panned the room. He stopped at Baron Von Gold and nodded to him, then his gaze shifted to the knife.
"Now, everypony, let us begin Act Two."
The pale moonlight seeping through the curtains flickered. My eyes shot open: somepony or, more likely, somebody was at the balcony to my hotel. Not the sneakiest, I'd say; my bedroom was on the sixth floor.
A shadow hoof knocked against the window. Three times. I slid the sleek sheets off and opened the nearby drawer.
"It's me, Sveet Tooth. Wake up!" a muffled voice called.
That's literally what a Changeling would say. But then again she did knock. As far as I know Changelings don't know common courtesy. I released my grip on the pistol.
"What is she doing up this late at night?"
Rubbing the crust out my eyes, I begrudgingly pulled myself out of the warm pit and closed the drawer. The bright moonlight turned off like a lamp as Sweet Tooth's shadow engulfed the room. Hopping over some discarded shirts, my magic beat me to the curtain as it separated the two drapes.
Sweet Tooth's face and stomach were completely black, unrecognizable, but I could see the light resting on her back; I still had to shield my eyes with a hoof as my magic gripped the glass door to the balcony. Her wings mimicked tree limbs in my room, the flickering was awful in the corner. Sweet Tooth knocked one final time, and cool winds seeped into my room. A shiver ran down my spine.
"Vhat a mess," she began, "You should spend some time liberating your room, zen you can start sinking about liberating zhe whole city!"
Well, that stung. The room was incredibly messy, but I had been focused on more pressing matters. Such as liberating the whole city.
"Perhaps you would like to help me clean up?"
"Nein, I brought bad news." Her head lowered, then raised again with her asking, "May I come in? It's chilly out here."
Bad news? At this hour, at this time of night? It must have been the Changelings. More than likely their retaliation against Shattered Shield's—wait! How can I be so rude to a guest? Especially if something is on her mind; what has this war done to me?
"Please, mon amie, come in! I am so sorry."
Her hooves touched down against the carpet wherever any holes between the shirts were. She was wearing a black eyepatch over her scarred eye. Why? Bright moonlight attacked my eyes, forcing me to shut them tight as I quickly slammed the windows close and covered it with drapes. Gone was the evil. The chilling wind, the bright moonlight; it was all gone, and there was nothing for me to fear now.
"Come, Sweet Tooth, let us go somewhere cleaner, then I'll be asking you about that eye of yours."
Sweet Tooth sighed, saying, "In due time, after ve sit down."
I nodded, trotting past her and pushing the door open. She complimented the many landscape painting in my hallway as we turned right into the living room. Bracing my eyes, I flicked those lights on and trotted toward the center of the room to my green couch. I hate those lights, I couldn't trust them. No need to get the remote off the coffee table, most of the shows were blacklisted or Changling propaganda or news, anyway.
Sweet Tooth hopped onto the other end of the couch. She was looking around the room, analyzing it.
"So, Sweet Tooth, what 'appened to your eye?"
Her head snapped to me. Sweet Tooth's hoof raised and rubbed the back of her neck, she looked away.
"A result from vhat I came here to tell you, unfortunately," she began. Sweet Tooth's face was weighed down, her expression depressed. "Gold and I vere at a Vatcher's Nest about an hour ago. I'll be zhe first to admit: ve vere secretly planning a raid on zhe eastern radio station vith zhe communists."
Planning a raid solely with the communist ponies, who's side were Gold and Sweet Tooth on? It's one thing we can't trust those impulsive communist ponies, but now we can't trust our leaders to stay on the right side? The communists want to liberate Canterlot for Stalliongrad, but they had to join us to strengthen the resistance and to prevent any inward fighting amongst ponies. Both nations were in the same faction, but their end goals were completely different. Who knows what type of "gang wars" would occur after we succeed?
"Zen, bullets shot srou zhe single vindow in seh room. Glass vent everyvhere, and I, for zhe embarrassing reason of being lazy, happened to be lying on my back under zhat very vindow. Glass shards vent right into my bad eye. Zhe pain vas excruciating. A few ponies flipped over and hid behind zhe vooden table—zose who vere too slow vere killed on zhe spot. A few tried firing back, but only zhe ones who fled zhe room survived. I fled, but Gold," she paused to sigh, then said, "He chose to fire back."
An encrypted sentence.
"Don't tell me 'e is dead? Is 'e?"
She gave one, slow nod.
My head drooped. Gold was a good pony who fought for a cause greater than his wealth. Many ponies adored him even though he was a noble, something not common in today's time. He was an expert mediator between the communists and harmony fighters, but I suppose that's because he was a communist sympathizer. That's neither here nor there, the matter on hoof is the fact I have another commie sympathizer right in front of me. One that has infiltrated the resistance high-command pretending to be a harmony fighter; like a Changeling would.
Still, though, she was to an extent my friend, and she clearly was in distress. I would relieve that distress before trying to bring her back to the light.
"Would you like something to drink, mon amie, it'll 'elp ease the pain."
Her head shot up, an eerie smile crept onto her face. "Please, if it vouldn't be too much of an inconvenience."
"Nonsense! I am here to help."
I hopped off the couch and entered the kitchen across the hallway. At least this place was spotless; I enjoyed cooking. It is too late for red wine, but I did have a final box of that terrible tea. I'm not going to drink it, so I suppose Sweet Tooth can help me with that. Now I have to flick on another light; the kitchen one. Bright lights hurt my covered eyes even after I braced them. I seriously could not trust the light.
It was incredibly quiet; splashing tea echoed throughout the silent apartment, combating the faint shots that could be heard in the distance.
My magic pulled the single cup of tea near my head. A slender strand of smoke protruded out the cup, leaving a trail to my kitchen as I re-entered the living room.
Sweet Tooth's head nor back was there, perhaps she was lying down. I trotted around my side of the couch and set the cup of tea beside her eyepatch—her eyepatch? She was not on the couch.
"Sweet Tooth? Where 'ave you gone?"
I turned around and a pink blur headbutted my muzzle. The pain had to of been excruciating for my body, but it was already numb. I fell backward onto my flank, grasping my muzzle as it bled. The pink blur bashed into me, slamming us against the ground and knocking the wind out of my lungs.
It had the look of Sweet Tooth, except without her scar.
"Death to the resistance!" the Changeling said, its pink hooves raising a knife high in the sky. Bits of artificial light reflected off the blade and into my eyes. Who is my enemy? The Changelings or the light? The pain in my muzzle no longer rendered in my mind as adrenaline rushed into my brain. My hooves shot up and stopped the knife from coming down on me.
A lavender glow mixed with the golden surroundings. I would have to end him quickly; I needed to get to a Watcher Nest immediately! A lavender trail snaked its way swiftly to the coffee table and grabbed the still-hot tea. The Changeling noticed, but its body had no horn. A loud buzz flickered my ears as the Changeling slowly switched to its chitin form. Unlucky for it, it had started from the legs to the head. Plentiful time to splash him with steaming tea.
I love tea.
It screamed, dropping the knife dangerously close to my face as it fell onto its back, clawing at its face desperately trying to wipe the tea off. I pushed myself up as my magic grabbed the knife. It was squirming in place, just like larva. Its body glowed lavender and its squirming ceased.
Orange blood went everywhere as another hole was added to its body.
I would clean this mess up later. Dropping the knife and sliding into the hallway, I bolted down the steps to the first floor. Out onto the street, I pretended to be a Changeling as I took longer routes around every streetlight I came across. I could not trust the light. I did not live far from the Watcher Nest, but who knows how much time I had left before another raid occurs.
Was that Changeling's story entirely fabricated? Where is the real Sweet Tooth? Perhaps the raid did occur and Sweet Tooth had died alongside Gold. If everypony had died as the Changeling had said, then how did they find out I was a resistance leader? How did they know where a Watcher Nest was and how did they find out it existed? Maybe a resistance member was captured and tortured for information and that's how they discovered the nest and my secret job.
Maybe a Changeling had already infiltrated the resistance leaders long ago. Perhaps the communists, or perhaps Gold. He had no scars and barely contributed to the planning sessions, he was only there because we needed all the money we could get. No wonder he was such a bizarre and friendly noble: he was listening, and if the Changeling said he had died, then that means his job is done and he rejoined with his filthy kind.
I will kill that Changeling. I will find him and kill him in the most gruesome way possible.
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!