“….And zo in zummary we must caution zat preconceived assumptions are dangerous.”

A low snort answered the holographic emitter.

“No, I don’t drink wine…..hmmph….what? (burp).”

A blanket rose up, an elegantly rounded muzzle of pure white poking out from under the edge. A mass of glittering aquamarine mane likewise escaped the confines of the blanket. Reflected in two large but tired Amethyst eyes, the trideo program played on, the German professor uncaring that his one and only pupil had fallen asleep.

Boxes were piled up against the walls. Strange marks decorated most, though these were no arcane runic code, instead, marks designated the last time Dante had needed something from that box. Canterlot Gardens, Appaloosa Acres, Rainbow Falls Ranch, and now Everfree Estates. Only a handful of boxes had been fully unpacked, conspicuous among those was the empty box that had held Dante’s supplemental security. Other boxes, marked as never unpacked since Canterlot Gardens sat forlornly shoved into a far corner, their prospects far grimmer. Another stop on Dante’s tour of Seattle’s finest 'value' housing, though Everfree Estates was marginally better than his last digs. The door had a solid plasteel core and he had seen the odd security drone and camera here and there.

He had no illusions that it would stop a Couch Mare Club hit if he wasn’t there but he hoped he had pushed the threshold beyond a single crammed up griffon with a fire ax. The power and water also did a far better job of staying on. One time of the power going out before he had a chance to blow dry his flowing mane and the annoyance that had wrought was enough.

“Ergh, ugh, that tasted horrible.”

Dante grumbled, trying to clear the after taste before remembering himself. He glanced at the other trideo chip out of its case next to the projector 'Prima Poise's Etiquette Lessons for Young Unicorn Mares of Refinement and Good Breeding.’ Dante had to suppress an inward groan at the title. Still, this had been the most recommended course. After watching it twice he now could explain how a virulently Unicorn supremacist had stayed in business, she was that good.

“Pardon me, that caught me unprepared, a thousand apologies my friend.”

Dante wasn’t sure how he felt about what he heard. It was still strange to hear the dulcet tones, and now with some practice, (and some emulation of Prima Poise) he had refined his (?, by a mangy manticore, pronouns were getting hard as his condition got worse), voice until it was sweet, yet refined, assertive, with just a hint of an un-placeable Trottingham accent. It was like those expertly candied fruit desserts the high-end restaurants downtown put out on display with delicate sauce reductions and no price tags. If you had to ask, you were in the wrong part of town. It both wasn’t him, yet felt right for some reason. The implications were unsettling. There was an easy, albeit temporary fix to that.

Dante threw off the blanket. With each step white and blue disappeared to be replaced with smoky gray. He hesitated a step as his face warped. By the time he reached the drawer with his laser measure, he was himself…sortof

“A bit premature to start practicing our Princess voice isn’t it?”

Dante hollowly asked himself, still, the growling baritone was reassuring. Less so was the visual inspection that followed. That was not the waistline of a stallion, nor the legs of one, or the hind quarters of one. The laser measure confirmed he was now 3 inches taller than when he had started changing with no sign of that stopping any time soon. He could still get away with it but he was pushing through 'tall for an Earth Pony' territory and slouching, as he had trained himself to do, had limits. He considered his options. Granted, it was making it easier with the mares. Not that he had needed much help after…well…

Dante rubbed his muzzle and a pained grin crossed his face. Eating had been easy of late. His mutable voice had learned another trick. He could influence ponies, lace simple statements with commands. A useful trick that had made a dozen schemes flitter through his head. Though he had already discarded the idea of turning master thief and fencing small valuables. It raised one's profile far in excess of the meager take a Fence might give. Secrets, on the other hand, …if only he knew someone who would buy. Thoughts for the future he guessed.

Eating had been foal’s play with that discovery, and he was enjoying the feeling of being pleasantly full for a change. Of course, overconfidence is a slow and insidious foe, and the momentary benefits had influenced Dante to do something a bit rash. Whether from the need to prove something to the universe or himself or just because the object of his affection, Silver Stream, was in Dante’s opinion supremely cute a mistake had been made. Dante grumbled a curse that he would run into such a mare, now, when his current state had all but robbed him of such adventures but what was done was done. He shouldn’t have accepted her invitation to come see her impressive aquarium, shouldn’t have taken her up on that last glass of wine, should have blamed the wine when the affectations of a lovely mare did not have the expected impact on Dante’s lower half, shouldn’t have gotten self-conscious to the point where he used his signature spell on Silver Stream, shouldn’t have over done it, and shouldn’t have altered Silver Stream's memories so that she thought it had all been Dante’s prowess.

Now he was having to deal with a growing circle of mares surrounding Silver Stream that had heard certain rumors that weren’t exactly true concerning a certain set of his skills.

It reminded him of the dream he had been having. Silver Steam in an old-style Trottingham dress, dining alone at a great table within a shadowy Gothic hall looking uneasy, as Dante in his natural state all but floated around the table in a brilliant scarlet gown, bat wings furled, talking though hidden fangs, and with nothing in the room that could cast an honest reflection.

“Forgive me, I have already dined….” And “I do not drink…wine.”

“Why am I dreaming about being fragging Draculpony?”

Dante asked no one in particular. The production credits playing on the trideo program finally regained his attention.

'Charles University Presents, an Overview of the Comparative Metagenetics and Physiological Expression of the Pegasus Sub-Species, the Night Ones. With thanks to Professor Hermann von Thuringen and the great Alicorn Schwartzkopf.’

“Trideo, replay the last program, jump to time 2:08:01, delay start 5 minutes,” Dante commanded.

The delay was just long enough for Dante to fix a cup of instant soy-kaf, he sat down on his haunches as the segment began to play, time stamps marking the previous five times he had watched it.

“Professor von Thuringen,” an off-screen voice began, “given some of the visual similarities, what is the best way to tell bat ponies apart from changelings in cases of questionable classification?”

“Ja, you refer to ze common instinctual reaction to fear ze fangs, the often dark colors. Ja, this can be an issue, ponies commonly see changelings where there are none. Dark colors are common among ze bat ponies, likewise, dark matte black iz assumed to be ze standard for ze Changeling race, but my own personal opinion iz that we put to much stock in our experiences with ze first attack by ze Changelings under the queen Chrysalis. I vager that other color schemes are in fact possible and zat we may see such examples in ze future.”

Dante hesitantly gulped and traced the mark he had made earlier in the 'Inconclusive' column in his notes.

“There iz of course ze fangs, but both bat ponies and changelings have them. There iz one feature here which can be instructive. Certain higher orders of Changelings will commonly possess venom. Hence their fangs are hollow. In contrast, zis can only be duplicated by a bat pony that has ze SURGE mutation and is hence quite rare.”

Dante hovered over the second mark he had made in inconclusive, hoof shaking, one half of him remembered the incident at Bright Smile but he was unwilling to damn himself on the word of a glitched out skill-soft.

“There iz of course ze fact that Changelings will in their natural state have wings and a horn. This is another case of rarity supporting the diagnosis but not being in itself definitive. Night Ones, or colloquially ze Bat Ponies are in themselves a rarer meta-type variant. Ze Alicorn iz rare itself, combine ze two and ze total number of Alicorn Bat Ponies worldwide, ja, it iz not many, but there are a handful. So still not ze thing which makes a certainty.”

Dante looked down at the third mark he had made in the inconclusive category. He could almost hear it whispering back that he was straining credibility with his assumptions of probability.

“Now, in my opinion ze weight put by certain academics on ze 'Swiss Cheese’ appearance of ze average changeling iz over-emphasized. Some research suggests that ze odd holes found in ze common changeling may be more ze result of chronic malnutrition than normal physiology, but my colleagues are unconvinced. Zo, if you see no evidence of ze holes, then according to the common wisdom it must be a bat pony.”

Dante touched the mark he had made under the 'Not a Changeling' column first with relief, then trepidation as he knew what came next.

“Zhen, of course, we cannot ignore ze feeding habits of ze changeling. While some have made ze comparison, and we must not discount ze possibility zat certain 'changeling' sightings may be bat ponies infected with Equine MetaEquine Vampiric Virus or EMEVV. Still, there iz an obvious distinction. Changelings do not traditionally eat any physical part of their victims. A vampire pony drinks blood, a thestral ghoul will consume ze flesh, but ze changeling victim iz not physically hurt. Emotionally iz as they say, a different kettle of fish.”

Dante touched his hoof to the other column and once again wracked his memory for any incident that might have exposed him to EMEVV. As during his other dozens of attempts, he came up empty.

One point to 'Changeling’.

The idea was absurd of course, he came from a long line of ponies, there was an outside chance that it was possible to latently express those traits, but he still largely leaned on the more rational explanation. He was becoming a bat pony Alicorn as part of a SURGE mutation that was saddling him with certain powers and needs taken from one of the predatory animals of Equestria.

“Tall order,” Dante mused.

Noticing the flashing indicator on his agent's control menu he stopped the lecture.

“Trideo pause program, load priority file from agent and play.”

Dante winced as he recognized the location shown. Two C list anchors from the Horizon Crime Report talked over a drone recorded shot of the blackened front of his last abode. A couple of firefighter pony riggers were directing their drones, the timestamp put the video at three days ago.

“Knight Errant is requesting the public's assistance with locating an Earth Pony of interest in an apparent firebombing three days ago. The apartment was already empty at the time of the explosion, and residents reported that the resident was seen moving out the prior day without comment or explanation. Registration on record revealed a invalid, non-standard ID and authorities suspect the incident may be gang or drug-related. If you have any information about the following pony please contact….”

Dante muted the audio as he examined the middling quality picture supplied by the Rainbow Falls Ranch leasing office security. It wasn't great, it was from too high an angle and mostly confirmed his floofy mane. He had shifted his tone more towards charcoal that day. He concentrated for a moment and his current coat moved a shade closer to smoke. Otherwise, this was concerning but not problematic. There were 6 million ponies in Seattle and no shortage of shades of grey. It was clear Knight Errant had run the fake SIN he had used to rent the apartment. Wickham was done, he had existed for all of a month, never again. The trail was cold unless Knight Errant was willing to dive into the Cybercrime syndicates, which they wouldn’t. The Crime Desk anchors had spent less than a minute on this story. By the time the hour was up, they had reported on the hold up of three Stuffer Shacks, a half dozen shootings, two major break-ins, and a hostage situation.

Knight Errant was done, for now, they’d thrown the case out to the public on the off chance that someone who watched the report as something other than a sleep aid would recognize him. If he wound up in a KE holding cell that could change, but circumstances had not appreciably changed.

“So why and who?”

The Couch Mare Club? Maybe, their sticky hooves were turning up more and more. The involvement of Cobalt Cloud, who increasingly looked like Silky's handler, had tied everything together. The CMC’s refusal to answer the question, even to issue a denial had all but convinced him that the Alicorn Amulet had been the real goal of the Museum Heist. Six Million nu-bits in gems was just gravy, and useful to finance their operations. But why blow up his old place? Obviously the perpetrator had just missed him. Dante’s practice at relocating once a fake SIN had been compromised had saved his rump here. It was clear that Wickham was going to be burned after his SIN had been logged and registered at the Condos. It had been necessary to get the job done, but it grated, and skilled mercenaries showing up to contest a job so soon again couldn't be a coincidence.

If it was the Couch Mare Club, then it made little sense unless they were trying to put pressure on him. Still, if they knew he had the two Foci, and given Silky’s big mouth he had little doubt that was the case, then he couldn’t understand why they hadn’t simply broken down his door. Unless they were planning something. He pondered.

There was the team at the condos they had foiled, but if they were independent then that was effort and resources spent which did little to recoup their losses. It made little sense.

He turned back to his list of projects, chief among which was determining the status of the Heavenly Ocean Star, the Sapphire Core. His agent was continuing to troll matrix sites. If it was still at the Neighponese Temple then he needed to know which one and hopefully reveal what had made that particular temple worthy of the grace of a Great Alicorn.

He was still unsure about the last item. He was still researching looking for a match among the old texts. He had taken a risk….

“Grrrr,” Dante gritted his teeth and then instantly regretted it.

‘What about the two Foci, if we’re not going to use those we should sell them.’ Silky had abruptly reintroduced the question months after the rest of the group had forgotten about them.

No doubt the impetus had come from the CMC. Dante didn’t enjoy lying to the others, but his hoof had been forced by Silky as a result. He had spun a web composed out of carefully selected facts, some twisted, and some out of place. The recent history of the Alicorn Amulet had been helpful, there was no shortage of theories concerning the events that had surrounded the subjugation of Ponyville, though Dante used that term loosely considering the events had been trivial to what would soon happen, by the Unicorn Trixie. Hence his second project.

Various dissertation summaries were in various stages of completion on his personal comm-link. They would never see peer review or the halls of academia. Instead, they contained the same facts Dante had so recently twisted, now refined. All supporting a tale of Khan Yakhkankahhkhae ‘the Cold’ or possibly ‘the Malevolent’ supposedly argued amongst the handful of Yak linguists and his death at the hooves of Yakkus the Kingslayer and a period of ineffectual, cruel, and greedy rule interspersed with raids into the lands of the Eastern Unicorns collecting treasures from across the Far East. A lie, but rooted in actual events.

The matrix address was on order, full of Meta tags that no one would ever search for unless they were looking into these figures. All set up to look like they were actual research texts, archived, and forgotten on a server at the University of Washington. Dante knew his craft well, as long as it looked right. It had taken him two weeks of work between himself and his data agent to slowly dredge up the few fragmentary, dusty references he had found, across a dozen obscure data hubs mostly in Europe. If Silky Sheets had that level of patience, Dante would be shocked.

Dante was still contemplating the completion of this project when his link buzzed with a message from, speak of the devil, Silky Sheets. ‘CMC offering a job, big shindig at the Solaris Foundation, details forthcoming.’

The veins on Dante’s head began to pulse. Were they truly that brazen? Did they think him and the rest of the team, albeit excepting Silky, fools? There would be a second try for a bite of the apple named the Alicorn Amulet. He was sure of it. What was he going to do…on one hoof he could try and snag it himself. That would give him three of the five, maybe six. It would possibly invite the retribution of Twilight Sparkle and Spike, but did he have a choice? Did he dare turn down the opportunity that might never come again?

An hour of frenzied texting followed in which he failed to convince Silky of the danger involved. Do or do not, there would be no half measures. He knew he would need something which could buy time when the fateful moment came. With a heavy sigh, he looked through the ponies he knew who were masters of their own kind of illusion…

Half an hour passed before the fateful decision came.

“Wait, how much was that in total again?”

Dante queried, hoping against hope he misheard. A slow wince crossed his face, “six thousand, but nigh indistinguishable from the real thing? Yes, I know you could go cheaper….I, I was planning on a number of close up shots, I need it to look believable or the whole production will suffer. Give me one moment to check for the room in the production budget,” Dante lied and muted the call.

He could afford it. Recent gains had seen to that, but it would be a third of his cash reserve, the same that he had been painstakingly building to get his condition treated. A quiet realization had been gnawing at him and now the moment of truth was nigh, the idea that he even could be treated was growing dimmer with each passing day. How would one even go about stopping a mutation as widespread and far-reaching as his? The Alicorn Amulet vs. the approaching event horizon of Metagenetic fate.

Which did he crave more, normalcy, or respect? How deep was the bitter lake carved by his woes?

He unmuted the line, “Yes, I think we can just swing it. Six thousand for the prop amulet, and a hundred to you for your professional discretion. I’ve had people asking about the script and I wouldn’t want to find Radiant Pine Global Entertainment is releasing my trid with a few names changed.”

He hung up, several days, towards what? The New Year and the Solaris Foundation party? A new him? There was one thing Dante was absolutely sure of. If this went to shit, he was going to personally gut Silky Sheets.

“I need to get back to work,” Dante reminded himself, “right after some applesauce.”

Dante poured out the quasi-gruel and sprinkled a generous heaping of faux cinnamon on it. A grumble from his stomach was unexpected. With growing gusto, he dove in, shoveling hearty spoon fulls into his muzzle. It wasn’t particularly tasty but it seemed to satisfy something inside. Almost done, he wiped his muzzle with the back of his hoof….and gasped.

A soft skittering went across the table and fell to the floor. Dante looked down and a thin line of blood decorated his foreleg, not but a scratch, still one that had drawn blood.

“What?”

He got down and looked under the table…and found the source, a tooth, its base almost missing entirely. He ran his tongue over his front teeth, normal, normal, normal, an empty gap surrounding… SHARP!

He picked up the half tooth, and looked at it…and walked to the mirror, opening his mouth he easily found the immature fang occupying the space that had just been voided.

“Well it was bound to start happening…,” Dante grumbled.

Then a thought occurred to him. Grabbling his link, he held it up awkwardly and took a picture of what he couldn’t see. He turned his link around and looked at the picture.

A low shudder ran through him. At the tip of the fang was a hole, set into the structure of the dagger-like point. As if it had always been meant to be there. Nothing came out, except an unspoken promise and mortal fear.

“SURGE Bat Pony,” Dante stated flatly and dismissed the thought before his logical mind had any chance to further fray the thin thread of hope to which he clung.

In the other room, his trideo player completed the program, the suspension having timed out long ago.

“….And zo in zummary we must caution zat preconceived assumptions are dangerous.”

Author's Note

Game Notes: The team is hired to steal a number of data chips from the relatively high-security high rise residence of a pony that recently survived an attempt on his life and who has gone to ground as a result. The reason for or importance of the contents is not clarified.

This is largely accomplished without incident, though each player must provide a SIN to enter the complex until Vixie (PC) is nearly killed while sneaking through the target condo by a sniper from the opposite building. She recovers quickly thanks to her shapeshifter regeneration and a touch and go extraction is completed, just avoiding another team of experienced mercenaries. Having another contested objective so soon raises eyebrows.

Especially when Silky Sheets (PC) again brings up the question of the Foci. It becomes relatively apparent that Silky Sheets may not just have an affiliation with the Couch Mare Club, an antagonistic cult dedicated to the apocalyptic return of Nightmare Moon, but an active asset.

Based on this Glass Darkly (PC, POV Author) begins providing a twisted history of the Foci using out of context facts to promote a view that selling, giving away, or using the Foci would be unsafe.

Given the compromised SIN, Glass Darkly also moves, and narrowly avoids a firebombing in retribution.

Later, a job is offered by the CMC through Silky Sheets for the theft of the Alicorn Amulet from the Solaris Foundation itself, largely confirming that it was the CMC behind the hit on the museum, and confirming to Glass Darkly that the CMC is after the Arcaneotech Cores, though none of the other players are yet aware of what exactly the Foci are (largely because Glass Darkly has been the only one interested in researching them).

Glass Darkly begins to hatch a scheme to steal the Alicorn Amulet for himself (the results of which will be detailed later).

Shadowrun Conversion Notes: EMEVV is the conversion from HMHVV or the Human Metahuman Vampiric Virus, the disease in Shadowrun that creates zombie-like ghouls or vampires.

Great Alicorn is the equivalent of a Great Dragon, one of the powerful dragons who's machinations drive much of global events. Luna, Twilight Sparkle, Cadence are assumed to be one of these. A standard alicorn would correspond to a lesser dragon or true drake. Still powerful, and rare, but a community of several hundred exists worldwide.

Glass Darkly at this point has a number of Adept powers including the ability to change his coat colors, facial features, and voice but crucially cannot yet change his overall body shape. This includes the power Commanding Voice which works similar to the standard Jedi Mind trick power.