Missing In Action: From Underhive With Love - Two Disc Ultimate Edition

“Why won’t you just stay dead?!” King Phasmatodea grunted as he rammed a broken pipe straight through the abomination crawling towards him.

Letting out a stream of curses that would make Commissar Ciaphas Cain proud, Phasma hurled a Focused Will laser blast that obliterated the wall closest towards him and threw himself through the hole. The dingy, filthy, and oppressively dark alleyway afforded only marginally better circumstances than being inside.

Already, the malformed, blackened, and twisted horror that was once Fancy Pants was ripping itself free of the metal that had pinned it to the ground. Blackened blood spurted from the stump of its seventh arm, and it began crawling towards Phasma once again.

Buzzing his wings, the King took to the skies and hovered up to a nearby rooftop. It would take the abomination some time to crawl up the three stories up to his position– and he dared not fly further, lest he attract the attention of the flyers lurking around. He couldn’t see them, but he definitely could hear the flap of their wings. The changeling surveyed the city around him, chest heaving from the exertion of the fight.

Seven times he had jumped without rest, and seven times he had found himself on hellworlds, each intent on ripping him limb from limb and sucking out the insides. This final eighth time was no different from the rest, and Phasma felt the exhaustion seep deep into his chitin.

Around him, Canterlot was a pale parody of what it was supposed to be. Its gleaming white walls and shining gold roofs were cast in a sickly green light. What was visible was a decaying shadow of its former splendor; mage towers listed to the side or were half blown to bits, homes were crushed and splintered, plazas were overrun with sights that Phasma dared not to look too closely at. Above it all, above where the Royal Palace should have been, a miniature green sun bathed the world in hellish light.

King Phasma had to tear his gaze away from the sun, for when he looked at it, he could have sworn that it stared back at him. And he had been on the road long enough to know to trust his instincts.

The sound of stone cracking and breaking drew his attention to the former-pony behind him. It was already two thirds of the way up his building, and climbing fast. The changeling fired off two ice blasts, ripping limbs and freezing muscles. He only slowed it to a crawl, the damned thing was growing limbs as fast as Phasma could cut them.

He raised his fetlock and examined the jump drive mounted there. The display was filthy and cracked, but it read its status clear enough for the changeling to take the risk. He tore open a hole in reality and all but fell face-first through it. But as he placed his hoof through the portal, King Phasma felt a familiar sensation tickling at the back of his mind. It felt like… like a Weave. One he had experienced before. The orange portal swirled with eddies of red energy that rippled across it, drowning out the orange surface and tinting the whole portal dark red.

Phasma couldn’t even lean away from the portal before it started pulling him in. With an alarmed cry, King Phasma was dragged through it, hindlegs kicking at golden clay tiles before they too disappeared into the red magical doorway.

Six was not having a good time, bureaucracy was not something a Spartan of her caliber was cut out for. She was currently in what counted for her office, stacks on stacks of paper, and several broken quills littered the desk in front of her as she idly fiddled with her knife.

Dexterously weaving it from one hoof to the other across her outstretched feathers, the pegasus known as the Angel of Las Pegasus was bored beyond measure. There was only so long a Spartan can look at form ‘C-729’ regarding training budget allocation before it made any person mad. And Six was no exception.

Reaching out with a wing she grabbed the tip of one of the broken quills as her free hoof picked up a document from the table. With a flick of her wrist she flicked it into the open air before flexing her wing and sending the sharp tip of the quill careening through the air.

As if a bolt had struck the spinning paper it flew into the far wall, impaled by the quill to its cluttered surface. Another victim of Six’s boredom joining the wall peppered with documents, both signed and unsigned by the Spartan. Were any of the many bureaucrats to see this collage of murdered paperwork they would surely faint, luckily for her though the only one she ever saw in person couldn’t care less.

With a knock on the door, the Alicorn in question entered the room just as Six sent another document to its grave. Already having grown used to the many unique tendencies of the Spartan, Luna didn’t bat her one good eye.

“You do know you will have to collect all those later, right?” She spoke with amusement, the corner of her lips curling up into a wry smile.

Six shrugged as she placed her knife down and onto the desk, “I needed some target practice, and we both know paperwork isn’t a Spartans strong suit.”

Luna glanced at the wall, “I think everypony knows.” She moved to stand before the Spartans desk,” But anyway that is not why I am here, well… partially it is but-“

“Wait.” Six interrupted, bringing Luna to a standstill, “Do you hear that?”

Everything went silent, their ears swiveling for several seconds until suddenly, very slightly, Luna heard a low whistle. The sound began to grow, getting louder and louder as it turned to an ear piercing screech, forcing their swiveling ears to press against their skulls.

With a sound not too dissimilar to paper being torn the room was bathed in a crimson light as just above them in the corner of the room the membrane of reality tore open. It existed for only the barest fraction of a second before, with a shudder, it belched out its contents and vanished with a boom of displaced air.

Yelling, a figure wreathed in a puff of crimson flame careened into the princess, the alicorn too surprised to react in time. With a tumble both fell to the ground as Six leaped up onto the desk with gritted teeth and her knife at the ready.

“Son of a cussing cuss word, that hurt!”

Six froze as the sound graced her ears, she knew that voice. “Phasma?” She asked experimentally.

The small amount of smoke that had obscured her vision dissipated giving her a complete view of the tangled mess of limbs below her. Luna was lying on her back, the orange changeling above her getting onto shaky limbs.

Phasma groaned, “Ah, hello there! Noble Six, is that you? The hell are you doing out here in the multi…”

It was at this moment the changeling realized what position he was in before scrambling backwards to give Luna some room.

The alicorn raised an eyebrow, “My, aren’t you a bold one.”

Phasma grimaced, gripping and rolling a shoulder as he frowned at Luna, “You can’t make that reference, you don’t know the source material. Where… Am I back?”

Six, seeing that there was no imminent threat, began to smile as she lowered her knife and jumped down from the tortured desk. The ground shook briefly as her heavy hooves hit the ground, “Certainly looks like it.” Six stared at the alicorn still rising to her hooves, “You do know how to make an entrance, Phasma.”

The tall changeling stumbled back, knocking over a chair and practically flipping over a low table, “W-woah! What can I say… Uh, probably some witty joke about walking away from a landing. Urf, the room is still spinning…”

With a grunt, the stallion fell down onto his rump, rubbing his head.

Luna brushed off her shoulder and stared down the changeling, “Have you been eating well, King Phasma? There appears to be thrice the amount of mass to you than what is visible!”

“... Are you calling me fat–”

“Yes, I am calling you fat.”

Phasma sighed, “No. As a matter of fact, I haven’t eaten much recently. Or slept much. Or just relaxed in general. I’m very tired, exhausted, and some other third thing. Sore? Yeah, we’ll go with sore.” The changeling slowly fell backwards, crashing backwards onto the table, “Ah! Mmm, it’s laying-down time.”

As Six moved from behind her desk to check up on the changeling, Luna rolled her eyes, “Truly, your grasp of Equuish is astonishing. A great poet of our age.”

In response, King Phasma weakly kicked a hindleg in her direction, falling several paces short of Luna.

Six grabbed Phasma’s shoulders and pulled him around and up to all fours, “Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

He grunted and leaned down against the stalwart Spartan for support, “Yeah. Sure. I think I’m fine, but I won’t argue with getting a bed, shorty.”

“Call me shorty again and I’m carrying you,” Six replied, heading towards the door.

“Shorty shorty shorty shorty!” Phasma chanted quickly.

Everything hurt, but not in the oh-goddess-cut-it-off sort of way. Which Phasma took to mean that nothing was seriously hurt. That was a step up from last time he had been in this universe.

Speaking of which, that particular fact bugged him. He had never been in the same universe before. His jumps across the barriers between realms had always been blind and had never carried him backwards. He would have to completely disable the jump drive around his fetlock and take a look at its innards. Clearly, something was broken– and jumping with a broken drive was just asking to be turned into a puréed changeling smear on the wall.

Currently, the King was laying back in a hospital bed, with Celestia, Luna, and Six crowding around him.

“I thought we were rid of you for good,” Luna remarked.

“I said I was sorry,” Phasma whispered back.

Celestia lowered Phasma’s charts back onto the foot of his hospital bed, “Everything seems to be in order. I think, as I don’t exactly have much knowledge of changeling physiology.”

“The inside bits stay inside, the outside bits stay outside,” Phasma replied, fiddling with a screwdriver to open up the jump drive around his horse-wrist.

“By that measure, you are perfectly healthy,” Celestia smiled. “Now, onto the question that is on all of our minds; why are you back? Not that you are unwelcome, but we weren’t expecting to see you again.”

The top panel of the fetlock-mounted device popped open, and Phasma immediately cast a few scanning spells into the exposed maze of circuitry, gemstones, and a two-thirds full tank of glowing white Electrum Mana.

“Neither was I,” he said quietly. “Now my jump may have been a tad rushed, but I have never gone backwards in my journey. Not even when I tried to. Something happened to my portal, something that changed the way it behaved. Pretty concerning, if you ask me, as this is my only way home.”

Luna eyed the changeling’s work, “Perhaps your device recognized you could use the break?”

Phasma scoffed, “If this thing developed sapience, I would have a lot of concerns about it. No, something else happened. I’ll have to take some time to figure that out, could even help me learn to navigate the multiverse with accuracy. Hope you don’t mind me sleeping on your couch for a bit.”

Celestia chuckled, “After your help with the changelings? I believe you have earned that and more. Though do not worry, we have ample enough spare rooms that you could use.”

“Or we can find you a couch,” Luna added.

“I know a good one,” Six half-grinned.

Phasma pointed at Six, “Look, she’s making an expression! Someone take a picture before we lose it!”

Six winked at him, before returning to her usual stone-faced expression.

Phasma blinked in surprise, before refocusing on his work, “Seems like a lot has happened since I was last here. Your parade-rest attitude was nearly unbreakable, Noble Six. I’m also noticing the absence of a certain pink alicorn and her boy-toy…”

The changeling paused, holding his breath.

Celestia nodded, “Cadance and Shining Armor are handling the emergence and reintegration of the Crystal Empire.”

Phasma slowly let out the breath he was holding, “... The bastard’s dead, then?”

“Yeah,” Six said. “He’s gone.”

The changeling idly tapped on the open panel with his screwdriver, “You seem to have all emerged from that fight okay. I wish… Nevermind.”

An awkward silence came upon the group, before Six cleared her throat, “Wanna go get a drink?”

“Huh?” Phasma’s head snapped to her.

“Huh?” Luna repeated, staring at Six.

“Nice,” Celestia smiled.

Six stared back at the three of them, “What?”

“Suuuuure,” Phasma said slowly. “Um… That is unexpected. You’re the last person who I would expect to ask me to go do something with you. Well, you or your Luna.”

“I do not belong to anypony!” Luna bristled, her one blue eye glaring daggers at the seated changeling.

Phasma returned to working on his jump drive, “Sure, love. Just saying one version of you saw something in me, enough of something to pursue. Are you really going to try to discredit yourself? C’mon, you’re like the best judge of character I know.”

Luna quickly looked away, her cheeks redder than normal.

“See?” Phasma smiled. “All you gotta do is shower her with compliments and break through that icy, cold exterior, till you find the beautiful mare who loves strawberry ice cream.”

“I have things to do!” Luna quickly exclaimed, before hastily trotting out of the medical ward.

“Now that you have thoroughly embarrassed my sister,” Celestia began.

“Hey, she loves it,” Phasma interrupted.

“– I must return to my own duties. I shall leave you in Six’s… care. Do be careful with him, Six. He seems to be a nice stallion under all of that abrasiveness.”

The bug chuckled, “I’ll have you know that I have dozens of friends! Doz– okay, maybe a dozen, singular, but that’s still a lot of friends!”

“I will have somepony show you to a suite when you are ready,” Celestia said. “Then you two will be free to carouse to your hearts’ content. Or until Phasma is reminded of his physical limitations, whichever comes first.”

“Thanks, Celestia,” Phasma said honestly. “I appreciate the hospitality. Good luck telling nobles to shove it up their plots.”

“I do not need luck with that, I have Six for that. Take care, you two.”

Six nodded her goodbye, “Celestia.”

“Ooooh,” Phasma grinned as Celestia left the ward. “Someone’s on a first name basis with Sunbutt!”

“I also seem to be on a first name basis with you… Chitin… butt?”

He chuckled again, “You’ve got a long way to go before you master the witty one-liners. Maybe if you took a class on being a villain, that could help? I know a few good teachers. But then ponies would be gossiping about how you’re hanging out with bad boys!”

“Like whom?” Six asked.

Phasma rolled his eyes, “Discord, Chrysalis, rough dudes with leather jackets and motorbikes… me.”

“I think Shining Armor owns a leather jacket?” Six questioned out loud.

“Alright but without the bike he’s never gonna complete the Tough Guy look. Plus isn’t he a bit too…. fragile for you?”

Six shook her head, “He is quite capable in the sparring ring, and has proven to be a tough adversary in the battlefield.”

The King groaned, placing his face in his hooves, “Everything just flies over your head, doesn’t it?”

“We’ve already discussed this,” Six insisted. “Nothing flies over my head without me noticing. I would catch it.”

“Whatever you say, M1A1 Bradley,” Phasma laughed, thumping her chestplate.

The setting sun cast rays of yellow and orange through stained glass windows, decorating the Palace hall with a rainbow of colors. The Royal Guards shifted wearily, eyes locked on the huge changeling sitting with his back to the pair of them.

“... I can taste your fear,” his deep voice rumbled out.

The two stallions shared a glance before readjusting their grips on their ceremonial spears.

“It’s delicious,” Phasma continued. “Though you may want to have your prejudices and racism reexamined. Hatred doesn’t look good on you ponies. You’re cute, fluffy demeanor and looks undercuts it.”

As much fun as it was fucking around with the Royal Guard, goading them into a fight would be a bit too far. Phas couldn’t talk his way out of the trouble that would cause. And, he supposed, he also didn’t want to fight them. Of course, his first concern was always making sure to not get in trouble, before deciding whether or not he could– or would– do things.

The sound of hoofsteps on marble echoed louder and louder through the hall as someone approached from around the corner.

“Finally,” Phasma sighed. “What took you so long, Noble Six? I know for a fact that you don’t wear makeup.”

Six rounded the corner and immediately raised Phasma’s eyebrows to the top of his head. She had shed her armor for the first time in his presence, and was instead wearing a leather jacket lent to her from Spitfire, emblazoned with the Wonderbolt logo. It was unzipped in the front, the smaller jacket physically unable to close around the Spartan’s massive frame.

“I am sure you are aware that removing Mjolnir Mark V armor is not a quick process,” Six replied, stopping before the staring changeling.

Phasma whistled, “Damn, Six! I never knew you were a muscle mommy.” Six blinked in response, unable to process the comment, and Phasma continued, “You weren’t supposed to take the leather jacket thing seriously. Who did you beat up to steal that thing from?”

Six shook her head quickly to bring herself back to reality, “Spitfire let me borrow it. She is having one custom made for me, but offered to let me borrow hers for the night. It will have to do.”

“Well, alright then! I don’t have anything to put on, sadly. And I’m not going disguised, I’ve decided. You got a problem with me striding through Canterlot, as naked as the day I hatched?”

“Everyone else seems okay with it,” Six remarked. “The naked part, not so much the changeling thing.”

Phasma laughed, “They’re just gonna have to get over their fear of the color black. Humans did it, eventually, and they can, too.”

“It took several wars and social movements to get to that point,” Six pointed out.

“Good thing you’ve got a head start!” Phasma grinned wide. “Now you just need the social movements. Alright, what bar are we terrorizing tonight?”

“The Angel’s Tap,” Six answered.

“Lead the way, muscle m–” Phasma started saying before he clamped his mouth shut. “Hey, uh, you ever seen a therapist about your whole ‘anger issues thing’ yet?”

“I do not have anger issues,” Six snapped, guiding the two out of the Palace and into Canterlot. “Anytime I have responded in anger, that was always the correct response. However, I have been talking with Cadance and Luna about… being a civilian.”

Phasma waved at the ponies gawking at them, “Considering I saw you half-smile, it seems to be doing you some good. Those two w– are a great help in that regard. They care about us, no matter how hard we try to convince them otherwise.”

“Exactly. Why can’t they let us get drunk in peace?”

“Their lives are too boring. They live vicariously through meddling in the lives of others. Just look at Celestia and her protege, Twilight. Do you know how many letters those two swap?” Phasma shook his head, “A lot, the answer is a lot.”

Gawking ponies– and a number scrambling out of their way– aside, the journey to the Angel’s Tap was relatively quick and quiet. The austere bar boasted a freshly painted sign hanging above its door, featuring the Noble insignia behind its lettering. Phasma took in the detail immediately, recognizing the triangle and fancy chevron from Reach.

“... You own the place or something?”

“They just know me,” Six replied.

“As descriptive as ever,” Phasma grunted, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, I’m not the owner,” Six replied just as simply.

Phasma chuckled, “You know, I’m sure I can find some foal books to give to you to read about describing things. The big, brown apple, the quick fox, the lazy dog. Descriptive words and explanations are important, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Six said sarcastically. “Why don’t you open the wooden, rectangular door to the drinking establishment known as The Angel’s Tap, which resides on 433 Cantering Boulevard, Canterlot, Equestria. You should do so by extending your hoof or grasping the handle with your telekinesis and pull it outwards towards you, as per firecodes all doorways exit outwards.”

“... Much better, thank you,” Phas said as he pulled open the door and stepped through.

The Angel’s Tap was slightly more fanciful inside than it was outside, but only slightly. The place would not look too out of place on Earth, featuring red leather bar stools and seating booths, and overhead lights that casted the place in dingy yellow lighting. The gruff looking stallion behind the counter bore a number of faded-pink scars across his muscled forelegs and shoulders, glancing up at the two as the pair entered the establishment. The rest of the patrons, well toned stallions and mares to the last, kept to their quiet conversations and drinking.

“Gentlemen, this is an invasion!” Phasma declared as he stepped inside. “Put your hooves in the air and prepare to be podded!”

The room went silent at that declaration, the music coming to a halt and conversation dying along with it. A multitude of pairs of colorful eyes staring at him in disbelief, too shocked to rapidly respond.

“That’s not funny,” Six said as she shouldered past him.

Upon seeing the Spartan push past Phasma and walk into the bar, the ponies visibly relaxed, though none turned back to their conversations. “Barkeep, the usual. And something weaker for my friend here.”

“Friend?” The barkeep echoed.

“I don’t bite,” Phasma waved. “Not usually.”

“He’s with me,” Six answered. “Poor jokes and all.”

“Aw, come on!” Phas whined, following Six towards one of the booths. “Making light of horrible tragedies is part of the coping mechanism. Did I ever tell you about… uh... hmm… Okay, maybe it’s a bit hard to come up with jokes about that stuff.”

Phasma scooted in across from Six, tapping the table between them and shifting around.

“... Is this steel-reinforced?”

Six half-grinned, “I am a frequent flier here. I believe I went through three chairs before the owner just gave up and gave me this.”

“Would’a been cheaper to just ban you,” Phas said quietly.

“Ah, but then they don’t get the Princesses’ paycheck for my liquor.”

“Ha!” Phas slapped the table. “Now that is a check I am very familiar with receiving! I get it, I get the hustle.”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t have renamed the place after me if I wasn’t worth a few chairs.”

The bug frowned, “... The Angel’s Tap? You don’t look like a beer dispenser, so are you some kind of angel, then? Pretty sure Angels of Death belongs to a different IP.”

“IP? I do not believe internet access has anything to do with it,” Six answered.

Phasma shook his head, “You know, you can drop the straight man routine when we’re not making jokes for other people.”

“I am not a man, I am a woman.”

The stallion groaned and put his head back into his hooves, “I mean, technically right now you’re a mare. Goddess, they really didn’t include a humor class in your training, huh?”

“Nope,” Six smiled.

“Aw, you can smile,” Phasma grinned back. “You should try doing that more often. Looks better on you than a grimace.”

Six shrugged, “Sorry, I am just used to always wearing my helmet.”

Phasma giggled to himself, “You know, with a sharpie I can give you a smile on the outside of your visor. If Emile can have a death’s head on his visor, I’m sure you’re within regulation to have a big ol’ smiley face on yours.”

“Emile was never in compliance with regulation,” Six remarked, “but his combat effectiveness was cause enough for his superiors to look the other way.”

“All the more reason to add a big smile on your visor!” Phasma insisted. “I’m sure the ponies will love you even more!”

Six laughed, shaking her head as her deep chuckle drew a glance or two from the nearby ponies.

The King sighed, letting his head hit the back of the booth seating. “... Fuck. It’s been a while since I could do something like this, Six. Last time was… shit, was it when I was here? How long ago was that?”

“Months.”

Phasma slowly shook his head from side to side, “... Probably comparable for me. No way of knowing. I, uh, I’ve had some bad luck, Six. A lot of bad luck. To put it bluntly, I’ve found myself in situations that would have earned me one of those Helljumper titles the ODSTs have, time and time again.”

“Want to talk about it?” Six asked.

“Uh,” Phas said, lifting his head to look down at the smaller pony. “I’m afraid the story is mostly the same every time. I jump to a new world, I find new ways for things to try to kill me, and I kill them first. There seems to be a lot of death in our corner of the multiverse. Lots of ways for things to go wrong. Lots of ways for the corpses to pile up. You know what I mean. You’ve seen it. You’ve seen what happens when civilization dies…”

The Spartan remained quiet. Thoughts of New Alexandria burning filled her mind’s eye, the pillars of light burning from the heavens to wipe away her people. She struggled with a proper response, but was unable to come up with something. In the end, Six reached out and placed her hoof on top of one of Phasma’s. The stallion looked at her in surprise, before offering a sad smile.

“... Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Don’t mention it.”

“... Hey, Noble Six? I, uh, I’m sorry about the fight. Sorry about breaking your knife, too.”

Six kept her hoof on top of his, “Call me Six.”

The changeling snorted, “Six. Call me Phas.”

The two sat in silence, holding hooves and quietly staring into each other’s eyes, the Spartan’s cyan eyes a stark contrast against the changeling’s orange slitted eyes. When the barkeep arrived, a platter of drinks on his back, the two withdrew their hooves in an instant, looking away from each other and clearing their throats. It took a bit for their faint blushes to fade away.

“Right,” the barkeep said. “The Angel’s Special for the Angel, and a Cadance’s Kiss for the Angel’s guest.”

Sitting next to a tall beer mug filled with frothing dark liquid was a tall and wide martini glass, filled to the brim with a hot-pink drink and lined with rose petals. A colorful umbrella poked out of the brew, across from a silly straw.

“... Thanks?” Phas asked more than said.

“You’re here only because of her,” the barkeep reminded him.

“... Sorry?” Phas asked.

“You can try that again later, with more conviction,” the gruff stallion said before turning away and leaving.

Six frowned, “He’s not like that with Spirit.”

Phas picked up the feminine drink with his telekinesis and brought the silly straw over to his mouth, “I think he might be upset with me maybe for the joke I made earlier. Maybe.”

The Spartan nodded in sudden understanding as Phas loudly slurped on the silly straw, drawing the colorful liquid through its loops and twists.

“I told you that wasn’t funny,” Six said, grabbing her mug and bringing it to her own lips.

Deep within the Palace’s gardens, a gaggle of ponies watched on as a changeling attempted to rip apart the fabric of reality and shove himself through really quickly.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Celestia asked.

“I mean, I’ve jumped easily a few hundred times already,” Phas muttered, recalibrating the fetlock-mounted device.

“And how many times have you been brought somewhere unexpected? This was the first, as I recall you saying.”

Phas turned and gestured to Celestia with a flick of his fetlock, “You know how to work this thing? I have to take risks if I want to get back home, Celestia.”

Celestia frowned, “Perhaps if you would let me–”

“No,” Phas cut her off.

“... I would feel much happier if your work was checked by a peer of some sort,” Celestia pouted.

Luna sniffed, “You could always bring your student in on this. I am sure Twilight Sparkle would salivate at the chance of examining such a device.”

“No!” Phas shouted. “No for the same reason! I don’t want anyone learning this technology. It’s dangerous, it’s messy, and it’s mine. I don’t want to get sidetracked for a year as you fumble around with multidimensional travel and need my help. This is a can of worms you don’t want to open.”

“Why would somepony fill a can with worms?” Luna asked.

“To let them out,” Phas chuckled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to tear open the fragile barrier between realities in your backyard.”

Celestia looked up at the sky, her spring sun hanging high, “We should wait for Cadance to arrive. She should be due this afternoon. You know she would be upset to have missed you.”

The changeling clenched his teeth, “I am aware. This is happening now.”

Six remained silent, taking a cautious step back from the bug.

Clearing his throat, Phas fiddled with the display on his expensive wristwatch. The magical hum was sensed by the two alicorns present as Phas opened a portal to another world. The jagged orange tear widened by the second, until it was wide enough to let the King through. Phas stepped closer, double-checking his jump drive before waving goodbye to his friends.

But when he turned back to the portal, the red affliction had once again appeared and diffused its color, like a drop of coloring in stirred water. Grimacing, Phas checked his fetlock device again before shrugging.

“Seems to be okay! At least, I can’t see anything wrong. I’ll have to gather more data before I can be certain if any of the parameters have changed. Welp, wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” Six shouted to him as he stepped through.

Once more, the portal seemed enthusiastic about Phas stepping through, to the point where it rapidly pulled him in. In half a second, the bug had vanished into the jagged red hole in reality. After a few short moments, the magic faded at the edge, before the portal spun itself out of control and vanished, leaving the alicorn sisters and Spartan alone in the gardens.

“I will have to explain to our niece about what she has missed,” Celestia said ruefully. “Luna? I may need your help redirecting her ire at missing the erstwhile changeling monarch.”

Her sister sighed, “At least her husband won’t be so hard to appease. I can already picture his reaction now with my mind’s eye; he’s smiling.”

Six stared at the hedge that sat on the far side of where the portal once was. There was, once again, nothing left of the only other human she had seen in many months.

“I have to get back to work,” she announced.

Celestia faced Six and studied her closely, “... Do not despair, Six. I am sure your love interest will turn up again soon. You’ll find that Harmony favors such outcomes, even when considering the vast distances between realities.”

“Celestia… what the hell are you on about?”

“Ignore her,” Luna waved a hoof. “She is still upset about losing her last, as she put it, ‘love interest.’ Isn’t that right, sister?”

Celestia’s gaze fell to the ground, “... Perhaps. I apologize for inserting myself into your horseshoes, Six. I have my own duties to return to. As do you, sister.”

“Indeed!” Luna said, grinning. “I for one can’t wait to leave behind the intrigue and mysteries involved with realmwalking, and return to my glorious duties of hoofing through paperwork for hours on end! Come, Celestia, let us enjoy this task together!”

“Oh, you don’t have to rub it in,” Celestia smiled as they began walking away. “I told you, tax season is busy season. It will get easier soon.”

“It’ll get easier if we assign these duties to those who are more suited to the task!” Luna insisted, following her sister out.

For a moment, Luna paused and turned back, looking at where the changeling left their world once again. She caught Six’s eyes, and the lunar princess offered the Spartan a shrug before leaving.

Kicking once at the dirt, Six turned away and trudged back to her office in silence. The Royal Guards she passed by saluting her, despite the fact that she was not their officer. When she arrived, Six opened her office door, entered, shut it behind her, and froze in surprise. Laying against the overturned table on the side of the room, Phas gave her a wave and a smile.

“You mind if I crash here? Haha, get it? Because I crashed.”

“Yes, I get it,” Six said with a barely contained smile, “I take it that something went wrong?”

Phas grinned wide and placed his chin on steepled hooves, “Why, not at all! Can’t you see that I’m clearly on my way home? I’m absolutely not s-stuck in a world far from my own!”

The changeling’s smile disappeared in an instant as he got back up to his hooves and dusted himself off.

“Right. I’ll, uh, I’ll be going now.”

With much less fanfare and trepidation this time, Phas opened a portal up across the room. The papers on Six’s desk rustled in the magical wind as the orange flow outlined the stallion.

“Okay. Yep. Goodbye for real,” Phas said. When the portal turned red again, the changeling groaned, “I swear to Panar, if this doesn’t–”

And he was gone once more.

And with a loud crash and splintering of wood, he was back again, deposited from a red portal that shot him out with just as much speed as the first time. The table did not survive catching him for a third time.

“... Urf. Uh, hi, Six. I don’t suppose that you, uh… also came to another world and I am speaking to a future version of you?”

“No.”

Phas sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily, before laying back against the splintered mess that was once Six’s table.

“Fuck!” He shouted at the ceiling, slamming a hoof against the tilted remains of half of the table, breaking it even further. “Six! This isn’t good! I don’t, I don’t like this!”

Turning away from him, Six stuck her head out the door and shouted at a Royal Guard passing by, carrying a stack of papers. Six got his attention, and also got a small storm of papers flying through the air for her efforts.

“Get the Princesses here now!” She hissed.

Not wanting to argue, the Royal Guard saluted and sped off, his paperwork abandoned. Six went back inside and walked over to the prone changeling. Phas was still laying back on the floor, covering his face with his bare foreleg.

“Phas?” Six called to him. “... King Phasma?” Still no response from the bug, so Six reached out and grabbed his foreleg, removing it from his face.

The changeling opened one eye, the orange slitted orb darting across the room before fixing its gaze on her.

Six let go of his foreleg, “Look at me, soldier.”

Phas squinted and hissed, “I’m not a soldier, I’m a bureaucrat.”

“Don’t care. Look at me.”

He snorted in anger and remained silent, staring up at her.

Six continued her facial expression stern as she intoned every word, “It is not over yet.”

The large changeling bared his teeth and pulled himself upright, shedding little bits of wood as he rose.

“I know that, jarhead. You think I just give up? I can’t figure out what went wrong, and I know this is gonna be a bitch and a half to figure out. I just don’t– this really sucks, Six. I’ve been running to home base for so long… if I can’t run anymore… Damn it, I hate metaphysics. I hate that bitch for causing all of this. Fucking… I need a drink. I’ll start working on this tomorrow. Tonight, I need a drink and a training dummy to rip to shreds.”

The Spartan’s facial expression softened, “I know a guy who can get you both.”

“Look, I know you like that bar, but I think I wore out my welcome rather quickly.”

“I wasn’t talking about the bar.”

Shaking his head, Phasma flipped over and rose to his hooves. With an angry grunt, he kicked the remains of her table, shattering the last intact half of it.

“... Need a new table. And… I need Twilight Sparkle. As much as I admire Celestia’s intellect, this is a bit beyond her– and Twilight is scarily quick on the uptake.”

The door to the office was ripped open suddenly. Celestia cantered in, Luna a pace behind, and twelve of the Royal Guard’s finest behind them both, fanning out to fill over half of the small study.

“Oh!” Celestia exclaimed. “You’re back, King Phasma. Already wishing for another rest?”

“Did something go wrong?” Luna asked, a bit more to the point.

Phas huffed and turned away from the ponies, “No, can’t you see I’m well on my way home?”

Celestia nodded to her guards, “I believe there is no crisis here. Thank you, my little ponies. You may return to your stations.”

With a salute, the sergeant in charge of the squad led the ponies out, but not before giving Six a respectful nod. As they left, Luna picked up a piece of shattered wood, glancing at Phas.

“... I take it the same thing which brought you here happened again? Only this time, Equestria’s finest champion wasn’t there to break your fall?”

“Yes!” Phas snapped. Instantly, his demeanor softened, “I mean, yes. Something something, you’re soft and cuddly and a table isn’t. I don’t know what went wrong, all I know is that I need help. Yes, the dreaded H-word, I am asking for it. Can you go get Twilight Sparkle?”

“If that is what you wish,” Celestia nodded once. “I shall send for her immediately. Though, it does not hurt to remind you that her esteemed tutor is standing before you right now, and is willing to aid you.”

“Consider myself reminded,” Phas grunted. “But I know from experience that her brand of neurotic insanity would be most helpful here. If I need a sane and stable opinion, I’ll ask for yours. For all your experience, you never cracked the conundrum of Starswirl’s unfinished spells like Twilight can.”

“Oh, she can, can she?” Celestia repeated. “That is good to know.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Phas muttered quickly. “I’m sure this is the first time you’ve thought about this. Six! I need to break something!”

“Follow me,” Six beckoned him.

Before they could brush past the alicorns taking up the center of the room, the door to Six’s study was kicked open for a second time. A white unicorn in purple armor stomped through, shield up and protecting the pink alicorn at his side. Upon seeing the four faces staring at them, Shining Armor dropped the shield.

“Princesses! We heard there was trouble!”

“Your attention to duty is as admirable as ever, Captain,” Celestia greeted him.

“We arrived in the Palace only minutes ago,” Cadance explained, staring past the sisters and at Phas. “When we heard there was an emergency in Six’s office, we came as soon as we could.”

Six heard Phas say something quietly under his breath before he spoke up, “Oh great, a third one. Are there any more alicorns you want to fit into this room?”

“... I do not know, are there, King Phasma?” Celestia asked.

“Quit fishing,” Phas told her off.

“King Phasma,” Cadance said slowly. “I received word that you were back. I hope we weren’t interrupting something? Were you fighting again?!” She asked, glancing between the two former-humans suspiciously.

“No,” Six replied curtly.

“Ah, I see,” Cadance nodded. “You were just… wrestling and broke the table?”

“No,” Six said just as curtly. “Now, if you will excuse us, we need to go break some things.”

As Six started to lead Phas back out, Celestia turned to her niece, “Sorry about this, Cadance. Let us go somewhere where we can properly sit and welcome you to Canterlot.”

But as Six passed the pink alicorn, Cadance leaned over and whispered, “Remember to use protection.”

“I will be wearing my armor,” Six answered.

As the door slowly swung shut behind them, the last thing Six and Phas heard was Shining letting out a very confused, “... Him?!”

The Dreamscape twisted upon itself, stretching into infinite points and compressing down into nothingness at the same time. The effect was nauseating to Phasma, who tried to take it in stride despite still feeling the effects of drinking three bottles of whisky in a row.

“Who the fething…” He muttered, turning around as he found himself in a warped version of the Crystal Caves.

His reflection was scattered across a hundred angled mirrors, each a facet of a grand crystal in the natural formations around him. However, where there should have been tints of pink, white, blue, and other colors, each and every single crystal was colored blood red.

Phasma heard someone knocking on a door. His ears twitched and swiveled, aiming to pinpoint the sound. Yet the more he heard the knocking, the more he realized that he couldn’t hear the knocking, he instead felt it with his soul. More than that, it felt like rap-tap-tapping on his mind.

On his Weave.

He let it unfurl out from his body, letting it spread across the Dreamscape like wings of an Elder Dragon, leagues across. With his consciousness melded further with the Dreamscape, Phasma pinpointed the knocking in an instant. Pushing through the Dreamscape as if he was rowing through water, the world around him blurred and rushed by, till he was in a completely smoothed chamber in the Crystal Caves. The walls and ceiling stretched high in black stone, while the floor was more blood red crystal. It was perfectly smooth, reflecting an inverted world, an inverted Phasma looking up at him as he looked down.

His reflection’s eyes flashed and turned blood red. His orange coloring, tinted red, transformed to fully embrace the crimson coloring. His reflection’s features melded and twisted upon themselves, till he was looking at someone else entirely. A changeling royal, crimson coloring, lacking the holes every other royal besides him had. Her eyes glowed, streaming wisps of magic from their edges. Across the front of her chest, crimson energy flowed freely from an ugly, deep wound. Behind her head, an inverted pink heart pulsed with power.

Phasma blinked, “What–”

The room flipped over. The ceiling became the floor and the floor became a scarlet mirror across the sky. Phasma fell, his wings not working. The crimson queen watched unmoving as he scrambled and kicked at the air.

Instead of crashing into black stone, he fell further and further, till the red pool was a distant speck of light in an unending sea of blackness.

With a pained grunt, his back hit something hard, forcing Phasma to open eyes that should have already been opened. The wind was forced out from his chest, and he willed himself to breathe as he quickly took in his surroundings with practiced effort.

He was in no cave. Though some part of him still knew that he was fathoms below the surface, Phasma was in a Hive. Ancient spires of stone, metal, and chitin rose into the stygian black above him. Bands of magical energy streaked above the spires like the Aurora Borealis, only a far wider kaleidoscope of colors. Nearer to the ground, enchanted crystals bathed an abandoned city in faded white light. Between the spaces of their illumination, things crawled and slithered.

“... This is not Kansas,” Phasma whispered, looking back up at the sky. Flashes of light revealed a ceiling so far above him that he could not make out the details. “This is the Underhive, isn’t it?”

The knocking returned. Despite having no physical location, it prompted the King to turn around. Phasma unsteadily rose to his hooves, feeling hair at the back of his neck rise, despite the fact that it had been gone for years now.

Rap tap tap.

“Getting real tired of this,” Phasma growled, turning to face the unwelcome visitor to his dream.

It was a citadel, tilted to the side. The colossal, perfectly smooth pyramid of pure ruby was leveled off at the top. Any reflection was lost to darkness that shifted inside its form, just a few paces from its surface. Yet unlike the things that skittered between the lights, this darkness was different. How different, Phasma could not tell.

Atop the pyramid, so far away that he could barely make out the details, a baleful red light pulsed outwards, radiating tentacles of ethereal essence across the Hive and into the lights above. Phasma squinted, trying to see what was on top…

His eyes widened when he saw himself, viewed from behind. He took a step back in surprise– and quickly turned around when he felt the ground give way underneath. He had almost slipped off the ruby edge of the top of the pyramid, the streetlights like motes of light far below. The one he had landed in was now noticeably empty, as Phasma was seamlessly transported to the top without him noticing.

Sighing, he turned away from the ledge. The shapes he saw, but couldn’t quite understand, were missing now. Whatever was on top of the pyramid had been replaced by a lone wooden door sitting squarely in the center of the pyramid’s top. Its lower half was cast in red from below as the ruby shimmered underhoof.

In front of the door was a pedestal, atop of which a red velvet pillow cushioned a pink jewel. It resembled an upside-down heart, and it was the source of the questing tendrils of magic emanating from the pyramid. As Phasma watched, one tendril cut through an aurora of blue magic, turning the whole thing red.

“.... Right. That’s my MacGuffin.”