Incognito in Manehattan

Fetlock Street.

Once Padlock Street, after the philanthropist and entrepreneur Gilded Padlock displayed proudly in brass portrait, the street sign has long since been written over with its new purpose. Far from housing the happy families it was meant for, it's the working place of whorses, salt dealers, and all sorts of ne'er-do-wells that society at large would rather avoid unless they were desperate, miserable, horny, or some combination of the three.

Virgin Fields was all three of those in spades. She paced nervously in front of the large plaque at the north entrance, the brass board covered in graffiti of to be honest mostly dicks. Padlock herself sported several. It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thought. Professor of Harmonic Chemistry Virgin Fields had come to Manehattan on a research grant and a dream, to see if a strange magical residue found in some of the old wells in Hooflyn could be identified or used in some new arcane science.

The whole thing was a bust.

Wells were boarded up, some were filled in, and the locals were less than useless. Stories that some strange shadow being fled the old holes in he ground turned up only a wet and exhausted cat. But by then the damage was done, somepony had started a song, and it was all over from there. The grant money dried up, and Professor Fields' reputation went down in flames before it even left the ground. Science was a competitive field, and she'd bet her alabaster horn that she'd just been disqualified from the race.

Shaking the awful memories from her head, she set hoof down the street. It all seemed to loom to the aptly named Professor Fields, handsome stallions that to unclouded eyes were maybe a 5 or 6 at best leered down from balconies, some whistling. The attention only drove her ears down further, which prompted coo-ing and offers to "cheer her up", feeding the loop until her chin touched the ground.

"Hey there filly." A mare's voice. A hug-pimp! "First time down Fetlock street?" She was aubergine, had a blue mane nopony had taken care of in her life, and was more grease than equine.
Professor Fields' head shot up! Must be confident and marely in front of hug-pimps, or they'll take you for a ride, somepony she didn't want to deal with had said to her. Head held high, slight smirk, exude competence.

"Oh don't worry," she said with boundless false bravado, "I know my way around a street."

". . ." The hug-pimp was speechless. Success!

"I could use a recommendation for a good, you know..." Fields went to lean on a wall coolly, stumbling as she leaned the wrong way. "Uh, snuggler. A stallion who really nuzzles good, you know?"

". . .I'm sorry, I zoned out there for a second. You're the most virgin mare I've ever seen."

"How did you know my name!?" Virgin Fields exclaimed, jumping back in alarm!

"Your name is-" The hug-pimp had to collect herself. "Okay, look, normally I'd point you to one of my cute colts, but you clearly need something special."

"A uh, real nuzzler?"

"The full coltfriend experience. As snuggly as you want, filly." The hug-pimp snickered the last sentence.

"Oh, uh, great! I've never had," The hug-pimp started to chuckle as Virgin broke off, "I mean, not for a while."

"Sure, sure. Look, this has already made my day, so number fifty three, third floor, second door on the left."

"Thank you? Do I give you bits now, or..?"

"It really is your first time. Go have your fun first, then worry about all that."

"Right. Sure. I'll just. . . go. . . now." Fields had no idea how to exit that conversation. The hug-pimp just fought to keep from laughing.

This day was getting worse for Virgin Fields.

Number Fifty Three Fetlock Street was build as an apartment block, and in some ways it still was. Some ponies lived there, sometimes more than one to a flat, and there was an awful lot of sleeping happening within its walls. The first two floors had been worn into uselessness by decades of partying, hard salts, and lack of maintenance. The third, however, still held some sparks of life. Hardly glamourous, but the stallions who lived there made do. One such stallion was Incognito.

His home was the second door on the left, a little slice of privacy where the lights didn't turn on, the water had one temperature, and the walls had holes. Used to have holes, Incognito was somewhat uniquely gifted at the art of home repair. Also the arts of snuggling, cooking, personal grooming, and ultraviolence. The last one didn't pay the bills, so he settled on providing personal companionship for a nominal fee. It's not whorsing. He had class and standards.

A touch of magic put another bit of kindling on the fire. Hmm. He was running low on fuel, might need to find another client to restock. But that would mean lowering his standards again and turning a quick snuggle. Whatever kept him in candle wicks, he supposed. Wax was reusable.

Hoofsteps. Second floor. They stopped, then started again. The walls were thin here and growing thinner by the day, so hearing a hesitant potential client wasn't exactly difficult. Especially as of the two stallions who lived here, one was out for the day. Incognito put on a pot of tea, threw some blankets over his salvaged and somewhat restored couch, lit a stick of incense, half a dozen candles, and even had time to check his hair twice before he heard the knock on the door.

Time to make some love.

"Hello there, cutie." Oh how her mother had warned her about colts like these. "Would you like to come in?"

"I'd-like-you-to-I-mean HELLO!" The sultry baritone chuckle, the warm and inviting eyes, the smell of stallion and candles, Virgin Fields felt herself lift off the ground and drift behind the absolute epitome of tall, dark, and handsome as the earth pony led her invitingly into his home.

"Would you like a cup of tea? I find it helps when getting to know new ponies." He was so nice, and Fields could listen to him talk for hours. As she stared at his deep blue eyes. Or flank, whichever was convenient.

"Yes please. Also could you read the whole dictionary so I can-" Fields cut herself off, hooves darting to her mouth.

"Not a lot of filter on you. I wonder what else I can get out of you tonight~" His laugh was music, but his teasing was going to drive her over the edge.

A soft quiet settled over the table where Fields sat as she sheepishly looked around the room. Candle lit, with a small fireplace. Not a lot of pictures though, and what was there were only landscapes of mountains and rivers. Windows were mostly closed, blinds drawn for that cosy atmosphere, but probably also for the temperature too. Now that she was warm and comfortable it was easy to remember that it wasn't exactly pleasant outside. Still, a couch, an empty shelf, some patches on the wall.

The kettle started to boil and Professor Fields got curious. She poked her head in to the kitchen, only to see her host had pulled out some snacks from the fridge and was making little biscuits with things on them. He noticed and gave her a wink.

"Not long now. Feel free to watch though, I don't mind." He smiled the kind of smile she wanted to see every morning forever.

"No, I'll get in your way, you know what they say about stallions and kitchens, you know." She beamed, hoping he did in fact know. She sure as tartarus didn't, it was just something her moms said.

"I know mares who say it don't want any biscuits, that's for sure." he quipped back. Oh no! He was still smiling and jokey, but she'd put her hoof in it. Back out slowly, avoid eye contact, tell him he smells nice maybe? Somepony told her stallions like that.

"I sure don't say it, or know what it is, or what I'm saying, did you know you smell nice?"
The look in his eyes changed, they took on a little glimmer of something. Mysterious. Mysterious and stallions are a dangerous combination.

"I'm just going to look at the walls until I think of something nice to say." Fields backed out of the kitchen, into a chair, and then completely.

The walls were certainly walls. All flat and wall like. Structural, that was good in a wall. And recently patched, some of it was a different texture. The first rule of science is to investigate, and so Fields did, putting a hoof to the plaster. The repair was smoother than the original. Not perfectly flat either, it had a little curve in the middle. The paint came off a touch at the edge and she panicked! She'd ruined the wallpaper! Now there was a dark spot-

Plaster isn't dark. She might not know much about building houses but Fields knew that plaster wasn't dark. She lit her horn, toning her normal red glow to a clearer light, and there it was, a dark green spot that reflected. They'd taught her about this in school.

That's changeling goop.

The very charming whorse was a changeling.

And he just came around the corner. He looked at her with that wonderful smile, and those soft eyes, and that perfect chin, and his expression flicked into a sharp glower faster than she could blink.
"I can taste your feelings, you know. Sit down." It was like being scolded by her father, who was about to eat her. "I'll not have made these hors d'oeuvres for nothing."

Fields sat back down. She couldn't escape a natural predator that was times and a half her size and extremely hunky. The hug-pimp had sold her down the river, and now she was going to be food for an emotivore. The changeling slid the tray of tea and accompaniments from his back and onto the table, maintaining eye contact Fields couldn't bring herself to break.
"Have some tea."

What. "What?"

"Have some tea. And tell me your name. Changelings can't eat ponies if they know that pony's name and have fed them. It's a rule."

"Virgin Fields!" She blurted, snatching for the little biscuits like her life depended on it, shoving three into her mouth and chewing with the frenzy of a drowning mare clutching at a lifeline. The changeling chuckled, manifesting a horn with a flash of green fire.

"At least I don't have to skip magic now. Best part of this body, it's got a little bit of everything."
This body?

"Now, miss Fields." Oh no, he was back to looking at her! Better scarf another biscuit, one with the tomato and basil and little bit of cheese, to be safe. "What has brought you to my door?"

*Knock Knock*

"My cup runneth over today. I'll have to ask them nicely to come back later. You've got *all* my attention tonight, miss Fields." Hummunuh.

Interruptions, Incognito couldn't stand interruptions. Especially not with such a bountiful harvest at his table. She was leaking love like a filly with her first crush, plentiful and sweet, and he'd been filling up just from being near her honestly endearingly awkward attempts to not make a fool of herself. Innocence like that was a rarity.

He opened the door to find two mares in bowler hats and overcoats dripping on his doormat. One wasn't tall, the other wasn't short, and he recognised both. Beach and Pick, two of the Comb sisters. Incognito didn't touch the Comb sisters.

"Ey big boy, you gotta nice place 'ere." Beach Comb started, pulling a match out of her coat and putting it, unlit, in her mouth like a cigarette.

"Real nice place." Pick repeated, Beach's words entering her ear and echoing out her mouth.

"Be a pity if some stray filly-"

"Stray filly."

"-Came inside and messed it all up, see?"

"Beach, Pick, always lovely to see you. But you forget, I'm the one who comes inside and makes messes." Incognito smiled while internally throwing them both out the window.

Pick laughed with a hur-hur sound until Beach elbowed her.

"I hear you got a filly inside right now, could be dangerous for a stallion like yourself." Beach quietly menaced.

"She owes the boss." Pick clarified, unsubtly.

"Ah. Well, I'm afraid we're becoming quite close, and I can't have a hair on her head hurt. She might even be my new special somepony, I've been thinking about a herd for a while now and she seems quite nice."

"But you'se a whorse?" Pick pondered. "Can whorses have special someponies?"

"Shaddup stupid." Beach elbowed her not tall sister again.

"Oh no, you're right. I'll have to become a mailpony. Think I'd look good in the uniform, girls?" Incognito posed, one forehoof in the air like a proud statue.

Pick went back to her hur-ing and Beach grasped for a response before clearing her head.

"Look youse, we gotta get that mare outta your house and into the boss' carriage, or there'll be trouble."

Incognito inhaled. He'd not heard a threat in a loooooooong time.

"Is that so, Beach Comb? What kind of trouble."

His smile gleamed like a knife.

"Fields!" called the changeling over his shoulder, "Grab the cups and plates off the table please!"
Virgin fields was confused. Why would he want OHCELESTIA!

A mare in a coat and hat went flying into the room, landing on the table, scattering the nice afternoon tea everywhere, tea set shattering on the floor!

Fields scrambled away from the carnage, as the disguised changeling leapt after her and dropped an atomic elbow on the still recovering mafioso, splintering the table to bits.

The groaning mare rolled onto her side on the rug as the changeling got up and fixed Fields with a dry stare. "I did say, Fields." he chastised. A flick over his shoulder. "Pass me that chair, please."

Fields shoved the chair towards him, pushing it over. The changeling caught it, kept the spin going, and put the legs right into the path of the other mare's swung truncheon! He spun the chair sideways, flicking the baton out of her hoof, dropped it, then spun and bucked both the chair and assailant, sending them flying out the door.

The other mare made to get up, but he quickly donked her on the head with a bit of broken table leg, and as she curled up with a groan he threw the rug over her, rolled it up, and rolled them both out of the apartment, picking up the second one on the way and sending them both in the carpet down the stairs to a chorus of "Oof" "Ow" and the occasional "Argh".

"We'll get you for this, whorse! You ain't seen the last of Beach and Pick Comb!"

"Yeah, that's us!" Pick finished, as they pried themselves out of the destroyed floor covering and retreated into the cold, rainy night.

"What a fun pair." The changeling stretched out his neck. "I hope I see them again. Now, as we are both keeping secrets for the other, I think that's introductions. My name isn't Incognito, but it's what you can call me."

A bit of plaster fell off the wall.

"Damn. I knew that was flimsy, but-"

The whole wall fell down, into the kitchen. The building made a noise that Fields didn't like, and neither did the changeling, Incognito she supposed. Sharing a look for but a moment, the two bolted out and down the stairs, into the cold drizzle. After a moment the building quieted.

"Oh hey, looks like it wasn't so bad, uh-" Fields started trying to reassure her new stallion-

Friend? Co-conspirator? Her train of thought was cut off as the building leaned.

And then fell in on itself, deflating in a heap of bricks and cut corners.

Incognito sighed. "I suppose you have a couch, miss Fields?"