Blue Fang, Reignited

In most cases, young changeling nymphs were often violent, willing to lash out at very miniscule issues. Being raised to be natural-born soldiers, it was only an instinct. However, there was the occasional shade of white amongst the sea of black. Though they were natural killing machines, they still had emotions, individuality, things that stood one bug out from another. Some liked to read, some liked to fight, some liked to create, some liked to destroy. And of course, despite looking mostly the same, with the occasional bug having some form of mutation, defect, or self-made appearance, each bug was unique to a degree, and there were—at least in theory—No two bugs that were truly alike.

For Blue Fang, now sixteen, his difference was distinct; his blue fangs. Though they weren’t anything special, as stated, genetic mutations weren’t uncommon, Blue was very proud of his blue mouth daggers.

Blue, along with his friends, Mantis, Stinger, and Dagger, sat in class alongside a few other changelings. As usual, Academy time was a bore. Hours of their day spent learning about their militarized lives, it was mostly stuff they wouldn’t need or use outside of the Academy. But alas, they were here, so they’d might as well make the most of their time. Not like they had a choice.

Blue was absorbed in a Devil Horns manual, as was about eighty percent of the class. Along the blue-fanged bug’s gray uniform was a collection of Devil Horn-related pins, mostly related to his academic lessons. The section of the manual he was currently reading was over uniform regulations, not something he needed, but since boredom hit, there wasn’t much else he could do. Leaning back, he plopped the manual back down, looking over to Dagger. The short ball of energy couldn’t hold himself still. His body bounced impatiently, his legs tapped and trotted swiftly, his forehooves clippity-cloppped across his desk, and his eyes darted around the room as if he’d eaten a mountain of sugar. The bug hadn’t changed much.

“Hey Shortstack! Cut it out!” Mantis whispered over to Dagger, referring to the fact that the only thing that grew was his personality.

“I’m not even that short, Mant!” Dagger retorted, his muzzle flaring in mild offense, his hooves tapping a bit more aggressively. Mantis rolled his eyes.

“Stop tapping your hooves, Dag! It’s getting annoying…”

“Ah shaddup…”

Blue couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, mildly amused at the twos’ squabble. He looked over to Stinger, who as usual, was buried in schoolwork. And lots of it. The lime-eyed bug had a lighter gray uniform, one decorated with medical-related ribbons. His muzzle was buried in a medical textbook, his eyes bearing very little reaction to the horrors within. He seemed mildly annoyed at the interruption not too far behind him.

Blue leaned back, careful not to annoy Stinger further. He then turned to another bug, one who sat in front of him. “Hey, Var, where's Ampth at?” he asked, leaning forward.

Var, a younger-looking bug with a larger frill, looked over. “I dunno… But uh…” He leaned back towards Blue, though looked over at the door, fearful that the instructor would walk in. Each time he turned to face Blue, he turned back to make sure Ampth hadn’t walked in. After several seconds of turning between the door and Blue, he finally spoke. “Me and Visral overheard Ampth talking with Scarab…” he looked back at the door again, then back at Blue. “We’re getting some kinda… important lesson… A more hooves on one.”

Blue’s ears perked excitedly, and he nodded, leaning back to pass the message back onward. The class was soon whispering about the lesson, and what it might pertain to. Soon, the entire class minus one were chatting about the lesson. Stinger was still more focused on his work, his eyes merely tracing the pages of his manual.

Despite Stinger’s soulless existence, the others were still more than happy and hopeful that the lesson wouldn’t be boring.

Eventually, the door opened, and in stepped their instructor, Ampth. Average build, a chip on his shoulder, and the personality of a powder keg sitting by a campfire. Beside him, General Scarab, General of the Devil Horns. He was a taller bug with darker blue eyes. He had a heart of gold, maybe with coal sprinkled along it. He was dressed in perhaps the most prestigious uniform in the room, hell, maybe the hive. It was a dark bluish-gray uniform, with several medals and ribbons along it, the one that stood out the most being the golden Devil Horn insignia, a mighty stag beetle climbing a hill.

The classroom went silent.

Blue had been around Scarab a few times, mostly due to Brokenwing. Scarab was nicer than the warm spots of the hive, almost fatherlike, and yet Blue couldn’t help but feel a tad frightened around Scarab. Something about either his booming command voice or the fact that even when resting, he always looked ready to engage in mutual combat.

Despite these conflicting emotions, he sat silently, watching as Scarab walked in, a weird-looking box bouncing on his back.

Ampth turned to face the class, a hint of annoyance on his face. “Y’all waiting on an invite? Stand up!” he snapped, causing the class to suddenly stand up, raising their right hooves to their foreheads, just at the base of their horns, in a desperate attempt at saluting.

After a tense silence, Ampth’s face relaxed. “At ease and take seats… And don't let it happen again.”

The class sat down, looking up at Scarab, who placed the box down on the desk at the front. Blue peered over at the strangely long box. It looked weird and thin, yet very long. Despite that, you wouldn’t be able to fit a lot inside. The side facing the class had what looked like a handle, which sat in between two latches. Before Blue could wonder about the contents of the box, Scarab turned to Ampth, clearly ready to start. “Thank you, Serzhant Ampth, you may be dismissed till I finish the lesson.”

“Yes, General.” He saluted, before leaving the classroom.

Scarab then turned to the class. “Good morning, Kadety,” he said, addressing the class.

“Morning General,” the cadets replied, staring up at him excitedly.

Scarab couldn’t help but smile, chuckling. He sat on the desk, careful not to bruise his uniform. “So, I’ve looked over your progress as a class, and I’ve decided that you all need a more personal lesson,” he stated, his tone somewhere between proud and serious, something that both confused and frightened the class. Sure, they'd dealt with Ampth's occasional tantrum, but at the end of they day, the worse he did was a exercises or flogging. But Scarab was a General-Divizii, one of only four in the Hive, and the General of the Devil Horns no less. He could have them court martialed at the drop of the hat. And yet, he was as kind and merciful as an angel. They appreciated it.

Climbing down, Scarab turned to the box. The class heard two loud clicks as the latches popped open, and then the box creaked open. When the seal was finally broken, Scarab finally stepped back, letting the class view the contents.

Before them was a… Well, they weren’t sure what it was. It was certainly a machine of sorts, yet it seemed like a bunch of metal and wood junk scrambled together with a long tube on the end and what appeared to be a lever near the end of it. Though, it wasn’t too unfamiliar to the cadets, as they’d seen the actual soldiers lug them around. Scarab picked it up, pointing the tube towards the floor and keeping his hoof behind the lever.

“Now, this class is the Eciton Model Five, the standard issue bolt-thrower for the Devil Horns.” He sat down on the desk, pulling back on what looked like a lever on the side, sliding open a top compartment. When the bar was pulled back far enough, he released his grip, the bar staying in place. Scarab then reached over into the strange box, pulling out a piece of slightly curved metal that held red darts, though the class couldn’t tell what material they were made of. Scarab ignored them, before holding the piece outward. “The Eciton fires a seven-centimeter-long-by-fifteen-millimeter-wide bolt, loaded from a small metal bar, called a clip,” he explained, before positioning the strip atop the opening. When the strip was in position, he pressed down on the red darts, loading them into the bolt-thrower, then removing the strip and haphazardly tossing it aside, a light ding ringing out from the corner the strip was tossed in.

The class watched with a mix of awe and slight worry. Despite this, most of them were more than excited to get their hooves on one. Stinger was the outlier. As he gazed upon the weapon, he clutched his medical book, a rare hint of emotional distress on his face; though none noticed.

Scarab noticed, but alas, had to continue with the lesson. But he kept a mental note to check up on the green-eyed shifter. He took a breath, before continuing. “Now, this bolt-thrower is classified as a ‘longthrower,’ and is called such for its mix of actual length and its long-ranged capabilities.” He then pulled the side lever back, a click sounding out. He then released it and the bar flew forward, the top-fed compartment snapping shut with it. “Before we continue, I’d like to say that this is a training bolt-thrower, and no one’s in any danger. Despite that, I’ll be treating this as if it were real,” he said, before reaching back and grabbing a tool from the box. “While I’m here, let me tell you the parts…” he pointed the tool at the middle part, which looked like a metal box. “This is the receiver, basically the skeleton of the weapon. It holds everything from the trigger,” he pointed at the bottom lever. “The magazine,” he pointed at a strange box that seemed welded into the bottom. “The barrel,” he motioned towards the tube near the end. “The stock,” he pointed at the very rear of the weapon, to a triangular-shaped part that stuck out of the end. It looked like a metal frame and was about as flimsy as a wet twig. “And most important, the magi-gen.” He reached back into the case, pulling out a glass box that glowed a bright green. “This is installed into the bolt-thrower, as is what allows it to fire,” he explained, whilst unscrewing something on the receiver.

Mantis watched carefully, trying to not miss a detail. He looked down at his notepad, scribbling down notes on the lesson, believing they’d be useful in the future. He looked up, listing down the parts.

When Scarab had gotten the compartment open, he displayed the empty opening to the class. Or well, empty plus the bolts. So maybe not so empty.

“This is where most of the internals will go. I’d highly recommend those of you wishing to become Leaf Cutters take notes when we start the actual bolt-thrower training next week,” Scarab spoke, turning to gaze at Mantis, who merely nodded, before continuing to take notes. Scarab couldn’t help but smile a bit, before he of course straightened himself out. “Now, that should be all for today. I've moved your bolt-thrower up, since you've all been showing a lot of promise” he stated, pulling the box over and placing the bolt-thrower back in. “Blue Fang, Stinger, I need to see you two before you head out. Dismissed.”

The class stood up heading out. Blue and Stinger sat, awaiting Scarab’s orders.

Scarab turned to them. “Okay, firstly, Blue. Princess Kydra has requested your presence. Head up to the top floor, please. I’ve already let General Yellowjacket know, the Wasps will let you pass.”

Blue Fang nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Dismissed, kadet.”

Blue stood up and stepped out of the class, shooting a glance at Stinger, who shrugged. Blue nodded silently, before walking out. Now it was just Scarab and Stinger. Scarab took a breath, staring down at the young bug. “Stinger. You’re training to be a Honeybee, right?”

Stinger nodded, shutting his notebook. “Yes, General.”

Scarab chuckled a bit. “Please Stinger, rank is a formality. We’re friends.”

Stinger merely nodded again. “Yes sir, Scarab.”

Scarab gave a soft smile. “What's bothering you, kid?” he asked, his face bearing worry. “You’re usually the most uh…” he thought for a bit, looking down at the younger bug. “I guess… the most emotionally silent of your little friend group.”

Stinger shrugged. “I uh… I enjoyed the lesson, sir… it’s just…” the young nymph looked around the room, a rare hint of emotion flashing yet again. “I’unno, maybe it’s because I’m a medic bug at heart, sir. I was raised by the doctors and nurses, I cain’t bring myself to hurt others…” he shrugged. “It’s just not in my blood, sir.”

Scarab chuckled. “I understand… Believe me, no one here truly wants to kill,” he replied. “And I won’t force you to kill either. But I still have to teach you to fight, it's part of the job," he replied, sighing a bit. His ears twitched at Stinger's radiating sadness, which ran bitter along his taste buds. He looked over, a small smile appearing on his face. "But, I’m always here to talk with you. Besides, you got a whole class of friends too. You'll turn out great,” he reassured, patting Stinger’s shoulder.

“Sir?” Stinger looked up. “Are you sure? I mean… aren’t you not allowed to… uh…”

“Socialize?”

“Y-Yeah, that. Aren’t you not allowed to have bonds with us?” Stinger asked, looking up at the towering bug. "I mean, from most of the stories I've read, the most high rankers would've just let us die."

Scarab chuckled. “Yeah, but who the Tartarus is gonna tell me to stop being different?”

Stinger returned the chuckle. “Fair enough sir.”

“Good. Now! Go get some food in your stomach. I got business to attend to,” Scarab said, grabbing the box, lifting it off the table.

Stinger saluted. “Yes sir!” He then turned, leaving the room, followed by Scarab, who shut off the classroom’s lights.

~~~

Blue stood in front of two slightly larger than usual double doors. They were made of oak wood, a rare material. It was strange to the juvenile changeling. He’d never actually seen real wood. At most, he’s only seen the green vines and stems from most of the fauna around the Hive, along with the lantern plants, fungi, and moss that spread like serpents.

He lifted his hole-infested hoof and knocked four times. On the fourth, he kept his hoof on the door, slightly confused. From the pictures of trees he’d seen, wood always looked like spiky rocks. Rough, ridgid. Something you wouldn’t want to rub against. The door, however, felt… smooth. More like polished granite or something. It even had a bit of gloss to it, as his glowing ocelli reflected at him slightly.

After a while of awkwardly handling the door, it opened, causing him to snap back to position awkwardly.

A changeling dressed in obsidian armor peaked out. He stared down at Blue, blinking. “Name and business.”

“Uh… Blue Fang, I was requested by Her Majesty, Princess Kydra?”

The changelings peeked back into the room. After a bit of talking, he peeked out again. “Alright. Just need some info. Rank?”

“Uh… Kadet.” He felt his heart thump.

“Good. Age?”

“Sixteen.” His heart began to jump,

“Good. And your ID number?”

“Uh… Three-five-seven-four-four.” His heart started to collapse like a dying star.

“Alright, good. Welcome in, Blue Fang.” The guard stepped back, opening the door.

Though nervous, Blue breathed a sigh of relief, his chest cooling down. He stepped in, looking around. The throne room was large. Spacious, open, lots of constantly shifting entrances. The throne itself sat atop a spiky structure. He stepped closer, wanting to get a closer look at the throne. As he approached, he felt a dark aura wrap around his spine like a frozen cobra. Something about the throne felt… off. As he got closer, he felt dissociated from the rest of the world. So much power, all kept in one rock…

“Blue!”

The nymph’s eyes fluttered as the ground seemed to return to normal. Turning away from the throne, he turned to face a pink-accented changeling with a long frill. She watched him curiously.

“What are you doing?”

Blue shrugged, carefully stepping past the jagged floor decor. “Nothin’… I’ve just never been in the throne room. And I’ve never seen the throne…” Blue said, staring back at the throne.

“Wouldn’t those both correlate together though?”

Blue turned back. “Corra… corrawhat?” he asked, staring at her. “Ky, you gotta speak common, I don’t understand them fancy words.”

Kydra blushed, clearly a bit embarrassed. “Sorry… mother instructs me to project opinions properly so the Regulars can’t comprehend our conversations.”

“…You could’ve just called me stupid.”

~~~

Blue sat beside Kyrdra, feeling the strangely comfortable bed they were atop. He’d never sat on something so… soft. He couldn’t explain it if he wanted, but it was so… bouncy? Like someone had filled a ball of moss with water or something. He barely focused on the room itself, more content with simply bouncing up and down on the bed. He glanced up at Ky, almost amazed. Though, he’d never admit it, being around Ky made him feel all… fluffy inside. Like, a flock of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. Angry butterflies, but butterflies nonetheless.

“Ky, what is this made of? It’s so… squishy?”

Kydra shrugged. “Mother said they’re made of cotton and wool… apparently, it comes from sheep.”

“The heck is a sheep?” Blue asked, now even more confused.

“Uh… think of a cow? But smaller and fluffy? They look like walking clouds…”

“Cows? Clouds? Now you’re just makin’ up words!” Blue huffed, crossing his hooves.

“I am not! You want me to prove it?”

“What? That these “cows” and “clouds” are real?”

Kydra nodded. “Yeah! I’ll prove cows and clouds are real things!”

Blue rolled his eyes, rolling off the bed, flopping onto the equally soft floor. “Yeah right! Besides, you’ve never even been outside!” Blue bit back, his ears flaring defensively. “I bet you don’t even know what grass feels like!”

“Well neither do you!” she argued back, stomping on her bed.

“‘Least I’m honest about it!” he cried back. “Besides, I will see grass in like… I think two years! So ha!” he gave a triumphant smirk, proudly stepping up onto her bed. “And when I do see grass, I’ll send it back to ya in a box! Then we’ll see who’s smart.”

“Still me, Bluey.”

“Stop calling me that!” Blue snapped, huffing. “I’m not Bluey. I’m Blue. Big difference!”

Kydra giggled, lying on her stomach. “Sure you are~” she teased, giving a slight smirk.

Blue sighed, looking around Kydra’s room. It was much larger than Blue and Brokenwing’s room. Spacious, covered in décor that wasn’t just propaganda posters, furniture, and all forms of entertainment from toys to books. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, the sheets were cleaner than the clearest of marble, and the floor had a weird, sort of blanket. It felt sort and mossy, and very itchy.

To tell the truth, Blue was a little jealous. His room wasn’t nearly as nice as Kydra’s. He looked back at the princess, both jealous and curious. “Are all Elite dens this… uh… fancy?”

She tilted her head. “Your den isn’t big?”

“Nope. In fact, it’s basically a box…” he thought for a bit, thinking back to the size of his room. “Just enough room for me and my brother’s beds and maaaaaaybe a few places to play games. But that’s what we got,” he shrugged, staring at Kydra.

Kydra couldn’t find the words to respond. “Goddess above, that sounds like a prison!” she suddenly exclaimed.

“Eh, it’s alright, reall—”

“No Blue, it ain’t.” She suddenly stood up on the bed. “And I swear to you, as future Queen of the Changelings, I’ll fix the Regulars' bedrooms!”

Blue stared up at Kydra, a small blush appearing on his face. “Kydra, you don’t gotta…”

“But I will!” she beamed, hopping down. “And I’ll uh… shit, Blue what are some other problems you Regulars have?”

Blue shrugged. “Iunno… It’s a pretty simple life, Ky,” he said, thinking. “We wake, eat, train, rec, sleep, repeat.” He sat on the edge of her bed. “Not a lotta complaints. Besides, we get first rations during a food or water shortage.”

“I suppose, but I still think that it’s my duty as the next royal up for the throne, to fix your problems!” Kydra huffed, stepping back up.

Blue rolled his eyes, sitting back. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You don’t believe me, do ya?” she asked, hopping off the bed, landing on the soft floor. Her pink eyes fluttered, and she adjusted her stance to a more neutral one.

“Iunno. I just…” Blue shrugged. “Not much has changed really. I guess there’s nothing really to expect.”

Kydra rolled her eyes, stepping over. “Well, there will be change! Trust me!”

Blue chuckled, adjusting himself on her bed. He opened his mouth to speak, only for a loud knock on the door echoed into the room, causing the two to jump. Kydra looked over, confused. “Enter!” she called out, rolling her eyes.

The door cracked open, and a pair of red eyes crawled into the room. After a few seconds, the full figure of a larger changeling was soon revealed to the two, his two ruby eyes piercing through the shadows of the room.

Kydra rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Hive?”

Hivehunter stepped in, looking around the room. “Well, usually you’re as quiet as a dead rat…” he then turned to Blue, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t know you had a guest over.”

Blue shivered a bit, looking at Ky, herself looking more annoyed. “Hive, I’m perfectly capable of having a friend in my room,” she stated, stomping a hoof in rebellion. “Besides, it’s just Blue, we’ve known each other since we were larvae! I trust him as much as I trust you.”

“I see…” Hive let out a small snarl, before walking over. Kydra was going to protest, but she was simply pushed back by Hive’s hoof. He then stepped up to Blue, narrowing his eyes in disgust. “You better not hurt Ky.”

Blue’s ears flattened and his eyes narrowed. “You trust me so little? I haven’t messed up so far.”

“Don’t back talk to me, Blue,” Hive snapped quietly. “Your brother may be older than me, but I’m still the prince,” he murmured, placing a hoof on Blue’s chest.

Blue looked down, a slight anger rising in his body. With little forethought, or really... any thought at all, Blue swatted Hive’s hoof off his chest. Hive let out a roar, before suddenly lunging at the younger changeling, the two crashing into a wall. Blue let out a wince, feeling his back hit the wall first, followed by Hive’s additional weight.

Kydra let out a yell. “Hey! Stop that!” she called out, walking over to try and stop the two from fighting. Hivehunter looked over, and again, pushed her away.

Blue growled, swinging his hoof into the side of Hivehunter’s face. Hive let out a grunt, before grabbing Blue’s shoulders tightly, swinging him around, and tossing him to the ground beside Ky’s bed. Hive shook his head, regaining his composure, before attempting to rush Blue, who quickly scrambled out of the way, landing beside Ky’s nightstand. He pulled himself up as Hivehunter readied to charge again.

Blue felt his hoof land on something metal, and he looked down. A tray. He looked up, just as Hive rushed him again. With little time to weigh his options, he grabbed the tray and swung it hard, catching the older bug’s face and sending him sprawling to the floor. He flopped over, laying still. Blue dropped the tray, the clanging echoing throughout the room.

Blue sighed, stepping away from the downed bug, his eyes glued to his downed opponent. He took a breath, before turning to see Ky, equally, if not more, angry.

“Uh… In my defense, it was self-defense.”

“You trashed my room!” she snapped suddenly. "You couldn't have just stepped outside?!"

Blue’s ears folded back. “Hey! Listen, maybe if your brother wasn’t trying to kill me, we wouldn’t be here!”
As the two argued, said brother got back up. Blue felt a sudden pressure wrap around his neck, before he crashed to the ground, a sharp pain shooting through his back. He felt a heavy weight land on him, followed by several hits to his face. He tasted and smelt an unfamiliar metallic flavor, with each punch blacking out his vision.

Suddenly, the punches stopped, and he was able to look up at Hivehunter, who took a second to catch his breath. He looked down, snarling as their eyes met. He raised his hoof, ready to strike again. Suddenly, his hoof was grabbed.

Hive's eyes widened, seemingly surprised by the strength of whoever grabbed his hoof. He tried to turn and see who it was that. “Hey, what the fu—”

Suddenly, another hoof sent Hive to the ground, this time unconscious. To Blue’s surprise, above him stood Kydra, still very pissed about her room. Blue stood, legs wobbling. He shooks his head. He looked over at Ky, a small smile forming. “Heh… thanks Ky, I—”

~~~

Brokenwing sat in his chair, reading a book he’d found in the Archives. Nothing too fancy, it was a book about the Changeling-Pony War, some old conflict that happened some thousand years ago. He’d probably read this one a hundred times over. Thus, he was pretty bored.

His ears twitched. He looked over to the door, walking over. He stared at it a bit, before opening it. There, a changeling guard stood, along with a large chest. He looked at her rank, a Kapral.

“Uh… Can I help you, Kapral?” Broken asked,

The Kapral nodded, her eyes looking up to meet his. “Sorry to bother you, Kapitan. But her majesty’s daughter has sent you a gift,” she spoke, waving to the chest.

Broken nodded, though a bit confused. “Alright. Dismissed, soldat.”

The changeling nodded, before walking off, leaving Broken and the chest in front of his den. He sighed, grabbing it and pulling it over. It was surprisingly heavy, but he managed to pull it into his room, setting it down beside Blue’s bed. As he let go, he noticed a piece of paper taped to it. Curious, he picked it up, reading it.

‘Dear Brokenwing,
I’m glad you allowed your brother to come see me today! He’s a sweetie, really. That being said, I’d say it’s best to teach him a few house rules, he can get very playful. He’s made a small mess of my room, but it’s no trouble, really. I still think it would be good to teach him to respect others’ rooms in the future though.

Her majesty, Kydra.

P.S. Open the box please, I left Blue a gift.’

Broken rolled his eyes, chuckling a bit. Kids would be kids, he supposed. Setting the paper down, he walked over expecting some form of import, exclusive for Blue only. But when he cracked open the box, he was met by… well, Blue. Beaten and bruised like a used punching bag.

“Uh… Blue, you good?”

“Owwww…”