It had been a fairly long drive but they had eventually arrived in the city of Appleloosa. Fix-it had slunk back behind the curtains to finish modifying Gary's M4 Carbine though not without a grilling on not letting him know first, he was hesitant to take down that wraith but it wouldn't be the first time he had to go without since Fix-it deciding something wasn't up to par and snatching it to make sure it was has happened before.

Unfortunately for Gary Appleloosa was one of the anti-changeling cities that have been growing in number as of late. He isn't sure what's causing it, unrest maybe? It's hard to tell with ponies sometimes.

Racism aside he had gotten a call from one of the residents near the city center and he'll be damned if he misses out on a chance to make some dough after the last couple calls cost him a fair amount in travel and turned out to be more ponies calling for a laugh. He'd hurt them but that could be bad for future business and get him arrested which wouldn't turn out well due to the limited number of changeling rights as of late.

So Fix-it is going to be sealing the deal while Gary guards the RV from anypony that might have a good time destroying some changeling owned property. Due to Fix-it's complete and utter lack of social skills Gary had strictly told him 'Don't offer a price now and don't take one. We do that when we figure out what we're dealing with and go from there.' So imagine his surprise to find Fix-it coming back and saying that they're clearing an old mansion on the other side of the city for one hundred bits.

Gary treasures the little dropkick but he can't help but get angry when he ignores his instructions.

Old mansions are cliche especially due to all the trashy ghost movies that have come out in the past decade and usually contain the most annoying/dangerous spirits to come face-to-face with. The irony is not lost on him either.

So now they're driving through the heart of the city, Gary getting dirty looks from everypony who sees him and Fix-it eventually retreated behind the curtains, unable to take the staring anymore. Somepony worked up the courage to throw an egg at his windshield and due to pony herd mentality it sprung every other pony to do the same. As long as they don't break anything he couldn't really care, it's been long enough for him to grow numb to it.

He parked his mobile salad in front of a predictably worn down mansion that sat on top of a steep hill. Changelings at least keep a house in order when they don't want to live in it anymore, for sales of course. Bloody ponies making his job harder.

With his destination reached Gary turned off the RV and got out of the driver seat to start the readings.

A large military issue strong box located next to the refrigerator contained the equipment necessary, all created and further modified by Fix-it. What he lacks in social skills he makes up for in anything machinery related. If he wasn't a loon he'd be a national treasure.

Opening the strong box revealed a bunch more boxes inside only these ones had dials and lights on it. One of them being an EMF meter.

Unlike the other EMF meters sold from stores and online websites, which were small hoofheld devices and went up to five, the one that Fix-it had created was a bulky box that went up to twenty. It read the same amount of electromagnetic frequencies but it allowed for much, much more precise readings. Certain spirits liked to be near certain amounts of frequencies while others actually emitted them. The best part about Fix-it's creation is that Gary doesn't have to risk himself by going inside the danger zone to get a good reading, he can do that from outside.

Opening the door he trudged over to the edge of the property with the meter loosely balanced on his back before setting it down to get his oh so important reading. At least that was the plan.

Upon turning on the meter it started going bonkers, dancing from three to nine and even down to one just to bolt back up to twelve. It was extremely alarming when it shot up to twenty and stayed for a solid second before sinking back to fourteen.

"FIX-IT! GET OUT HERE!" Gary shouted, not prying his eyes away from the meter after it went back to twenty for two seconds this time.

The black furred and snow white manned unicorn stepped out of the still open door, looking kinda miffed.

"What do you want Gary? I can't finish on your M4 if you won't let me-" Fix-it couldn't finish his sentence as Gary turned around, gripped the unicorn by his mane and dragged him to the meter, shoving his face into it.

"Why's it doing this?! You made the fucker so why is it playing up?!" Gary demanded while straining his voice, there was a reason he never shouts and his voice was now paying the price of his panic.

Judging from his prolonged staring, he had no clue.

"Uh... We have a regular EMF reader from Coltslist that you could use while I see what's wrong with this." Fix-it offered while he picked the meter up in his aura.

"Are you crazy?! I'm not going in there with that piece of plastic!" He shouted again, showing his distress at the thought.

"Why? Chicken?" Fix-it mocked with a smirk while looking back at Gary.

"You know damn well why I'm not going in without knowing first! Don't you remember what happened last time?!" Gary's voice was turning into a croak and judging from Fix-it stopping in his tracks and staring guiltily at Gary's iconic scar, he remembered all too well. It wasn't the only one either.

Many nights of sleep were lost from Gary reliving Fix-it's error in his dreams and just as many were lost from Fix-it dreaming of making a similar error which ends up in a worse situation.

Ignorance is a cause of many deaths in spirit hunting and since ignorance seems ingrained in pony genes, Fix-it included, it effected them more often than they were comfortable with, always at the cost of Gary's well being.

Fix-it was never at risk from these hunts and offers to join when the guilt starts to arise but Gary never lets him, telling him he won't let harm come to him, even at the cost of himself. A testament to the bond they shared.

A bond Fix-it sometimes takes for granted.

And it always makes him feel like shit when he inadvertently hurts his only friend. Accident or not.

A defective changeling with an attitude and a backwards unicorn with no cutie mark. An odd pair that won't be parting ways anytime soon.

Gary and Fix-it sat in the space behind the curtains which was easily the size of a house, a mix of changeling and pony magic developed, refined and applied to material. The RV was a prime example of the advantages of changeling-pony cooperation. Designed and created in only Trottingham. It was expensive but that didn't deter either species from getting one. The fact that ponies helped create and even own a few didn't stop other ponies from thinking changelings buy it as a point of pride since they had a hoof in creating it.

There is no pride it's just really handy to have the space of a house in the area of an RV.

The center of the room had a number of leather chairs, artificial of course, with a low standing table at the center and Fix-it's contribution to this particular area was a stand that hung from the ceiling with four televisions facing outwards, you could sit anywhere in the 'curtain room' and still have a good view. Fix-it may be backwards in some regards but you just can't argue, guys a fucking prodigy.

To one side sat a bar that they managed to make off with for seventy five bits, which was a steal, and gave Gary a reason to drink more often and the other side belonging to a miniature gym, you need to be in top condition to avoid the lethal workplace risks of their occupation. The back housed 'Fixer's palace of mechanical wonders' as Gary loved to put it but it was just a simple workshop.

There was a set of stairs between the bar and the workshop that led to bedrooms, a colt needs his privacy after all.

Fix-it sat at the worktable in his workshop fiddling with his EMF reader while Gary sat at the bar reading a history book while drinking a glass of bourbon whiskey, while drinking on the job was frowned upon by pony and changeling alike, Gary would just raise his glass. This is his business and if he wanted to be wasted on the job that is entirely his choice and problem. He always liked history as well, reading up on the last element bearers and the industrial revolution after Princess Twilight's passing.

Her achievements as Equestria's only princess was more than admirable and will be remembered to the end of time. Actually her entire life, and those of her fellow bearers, are on paper for all to see. He honestly just liked reading of the times when changelings co-existed peacefully with ponies. Those days are long gone however.

Gary usually wore a black shirt to cover the scars that littered his chest and barrel but he'd since taken it off and they were exposed to the cool afternoon air. Chitin normally makes scars impossible but if the wound is serious enough, no matter how many times he sheds his old chitin it'll still be prevalent. They won't age nor fade, they'll stay for life.

The only one that didn't look like he had a run in with a manticore or got acid thrown at him was the big one on his neck, it was unique, and it was the only one that still burned.

"Hey!- Oh. Y'know what? I'll do the measurements, enjoy your drink." Fix-it said hastily and soon zoomed past Gary with the EMF reader in tow.

Fix-it was always uncomfortable when Gary didn't wear anything, if only he knew that he only wears stuff as often as he does because of that uncomfortableness.

Whenever Fix-it offers to do something in terms of hunting the spirit, measurements or otherwise, he's feeling guilty. Even without the built-in emotion detector, he's known the unicorn long enough to know his tells, to the point where Gary wouldn't hesitate to call the unicorn his brother. He just doesn't know how much Gary relies on the advantages he provides. That wraith from early this morning would have gotten him easily without the See-it.

It had taken Fix-it a fraction of the time Gary takes to get measurements which is probably due to his knowledge of them, upon his return he told him it should be a Blight. A recently discovered kind of spirit that emits a cloud of toxin's that could be either damaging to the lungs or just highly nauseating, it could also spit globs of acid because gas wasn't bad enough. Bad in all cases.

There once was an expert hunter who exterminated his first Blight only to die a week later due to the lasting effect of the toxins, they are no joke.

Gary wrapped a rag around his mouth and held his breath when it came to his first Blight, it worked but he almost passed out due to oxygen deprivation, and Fix-it used the same rag for samples to develop his next cheekily named gadget. An enlarged re-breather that he had named 'Breathe easy'. Normal re-breathers were just a tube that is attached to the mouth, using magic to recycle oxygen but only to a degree. Fix-it's breathe easy wrapped around the lower part of Gary's face with two self-made filters that sat on his cheeks.

After being informed of the spirit Gary sat up and marched over to what used to be a closet and another strong box that sat to the right of the workshop and next to the gym.

It was large, black and green and made out of metal in a way that reminded many of a safe. One of the only non-gadget inventions Fix-it ever produced was a storage cupboard that could survive a bombing and, through retinal scanners, would only unlock for Gary. It would be considered overkill if it weren't for what it contained.

Opening the cupboard revealed it to be Gary's arsenal. Many hunters thought one gun was enough, a shotgun usually. Gary couldn't agree any less.

At the top in gun racks was a Remington 870 and a KRISS Vector, waiting patiently for a chance to see use, there was one where his M4 Carbine usually would be as well. In the back was a Barrett M82 without the scope. He'd only ever used it once. Lining the left side was a series and plethora of grenades for when guns just won't cut it, all specially made with chemical compounds that spirits don't seem to be a fan of, spirits that aren't incorporeal can be harmed from just about anything, especially certain chemical reactions. It's just getting them there.

Set in place on the right side was a lightweight hatchet, with a blade made of diamonds. Not many know that changeling magic can be used to change the properties of certain materials, diamonds can be used to intensify certain chemicals and enhance reactions, plus diamonds are just really sharp. In a stand under the hatchet was a selection of black bottles, filled with oils specifically made to bring the hurt to spirits.

The bottom of the closet was home to a variety of rings, big enough to comfortably sit on Gary's head like a crown if it weren't for the glass in said rings. They were traps with all different purposes and functions. The traps sat on top of a drawer that was filled with Fix-it's inventions. The See-it and the Breathe easy were among them but he only had his eyes on one, but that came after his most vital piece of equipment.

Hanging on a couple of hooks in the center of the closet was a black vest that depicted a wilting rose just under the neck with a sentence stitched on next to it. It was simple and small but it had meaning, of Gary's own design.

'Death isn't here yet, let's go out fighting.'

He never said it was good but it is rather accurate, at least his numerous brushes with death says so.

Blight's aren't particularly fast but you can't get near them and they'll try and get close while spitting acid at you, try to lure you into a corner so it can show you why every hunter keeps their distance.

Grabbing the vest from the hooks, he slipped it on and them pushed himself up onto his hind legs to get his Remington.

You'd think bringing a close range weapon is bad because of the gas but many hunters don't know that a blight's gas, it's best weapon, is actually it's biggest weakness.

It remains the only spirit that can be exterminated with one pull of the trigger.

The gas is extremely flammable and the Remington is the only firearm that Gary has incendiaries for, it'll be a five minute job. Four of those minutes will be looking for it at most.

After opening the drawer and putting on the breathe easy he shut the closet which is actually the armory, they spend so much on equipment so they couldn't actually afford a big enough big safe, and then moved to the strong box next to the budget armory.

It was a big box and when it was opened it revealed why. The bottom of the lid was home to filled three holsters, a colt 1911, an M9 Beretta and a 44. Magnum revolver. Below the sidearms beheld rows upon rows of magazines and boxes of shells, all with a specified purpose. Using his magic he retrieved a few incendiary shells, he wouldn't need that many.

Satisfied with his equipment and armaments, as if his standards were that high anyway, he shut the strong box, made sure the armory locked itself and then turned to exit the curtain room to start his work.

Gary couldn't stop his chitin from crawling.

He already dispatched of the blight, it was one of the few quadruped spirits and it was covered in orange and green pustules, nasty looking things they are. So if he already cleared this place then why couldn't he shake this feeling? Part of him wanted to find out what was causing it but it had rattled him so badly that he just left, confident that his work here was done.

He went back into the curtain room to do two things and two things only. Put everything back and get a six pack.

So here he is now, sitting in the driver seat simultaneously trying to claim his beloved alcohol and tear it away from it's brethren. Until Fix-it emerged from the curtain room for some reason.

"Hey Gary do you know why the power's... off..." Fix-it trailed off.

Gary looked up at his friend. "What's up?" He only got a shaky hoof pointing at the windshield in response. He turned.

He stared straight into a pair of purely white eyes that was backed by an impossibly large, impossibly flawless smile on an impossibly black face. It was the worst thing imaginable.

A Jester.

The name is misleading, Jester's are the most twisted, sadistic and destructive spirit ever discovered. They are rumored to be born from the grief Discord emitted when he lost Fluttershy but that fact is entirely irrelevant when staring one down. Unlike the harmless trickster, Jesters were 100% lethal and their sick jokes often causing their victims intense pain before death, probably enjoys hearing them cry out for mercy. Unfortunately for hunters the Jesters inhabited many traits from Discord, one of them being the tendency to not play by the rules.

They are not bound anywhere.

They roam freely.

And that only makes them all the more dangerous.

Gary didn't even have time to react when the Jester brought a lengthy arm into view, only to slam it into the side of the RV and sent it rolling down the hill, bouncing occasionally.

Gary got a glimpse out of the broken windshield when it somehow turned back to the mansion, only to see a ball of black careening towards them in the afternoon sun.

Author's Note

Kinda rushed the ending but there isn't really an interesting way I can put "He walked into the broken down mansion, walked around a bit, shot the blight, it exploded and fucking died."