//------------------------------// // 156, 387: 10 // Story: They're EVERYWHERE! // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// As 156 lunges through the portal left standing for a moment after Tantabus’ passing through with 387, she lands on a hard surface and immediately rolls to make any counterattack more difficult just as the topmost layer of her carapace turns softer to cushion her impact further and avoid making noise. Needlessly so, as a cacophony of chaos assaults the infiltrator’s ears. A somewhat familiar mix of loud noises, one which even a high rank like her heard only once in her life during the invasion of Canterlot - panicked screaming, pained gasps, stomping of hooves...   ...all coming from below. Details regarding her surroundings burst into her head by the beginning of second two as she, crouched and ready to move again, looks around. She’s on some sort of a wide open roof, likely belonging to a military fortress in her experience - it’s sloped to avoid enemy physical projectiles piling on it, it’s wide open aside from two raised central sections with small turrets likely hosting stairs down and allowing to turn the entire roof into a killzone. However, the changelings with crossbows stationed in each one don’t pay any mind to 387 being telekinetically dragged along by the strange lookalike of Princess Celestia. From 387’s last words in their safe space, 156 assumes this must be that Tantabus creature responsible for the entire mess they’re in, including the dreamscape monsters invading the real world. Bells start ringing in the distance, making 156 fly upwards to get a better view of the entire situation. Carefully, she also flies closer to 387 and his captor, praying that her attempts at suppressing her physical and mental presence work on Tantabus. “What an interesting memory,” muses Tantabus, looking down at the panic of changelings and ponies running around, knowing they’re in danger due to the warning bells but having no idea what the problem is yet, “Which group was the one you were trying to save?” 387 remains silent. “Defiance won’t help you. It will only make you suffer for longer,” Tantabus points at a changeling moving more with purpose than panic, knocking at doors, always exchanging a few words, and then darting away again, “Ah, there’s a familiar mind. How many did you try to save?” “Sixteen,” 387 breathes out. “How many did you save?” “Eleven,” the warrior turns and stares down Tantabus. “Are you sure?” Tantabus looks at the sky where clouds part, revealing ranks upon ranks of pegasi, all ready with firebombs. The carpet bombing begins in tune with enormous explosions in the distance where griffon heavy trebuchets start obliterating the edges of the city, launching barrels of explosives enchanted with unicorn magic. Memory version of 387 looks up before calling out a warning and tackling a duo of changelings by his side to the ground. However, the changeling on the other side reacts too slowly and gets hit by a shrapnel bomb, its sharpened nails tearing chunks of her body out. “Wait.. no!” real 387 raises his foreleg, “She lived! She survived! I remember-” “Did she, really?” Tantabus asks, amused, “Or did you only persuade yourself afterwards that you didn’t fail that badly? I am pulling this out of your head, after all. I didn’t even exist in those days.”  “I… I...” 387’s certainty is completely gone. 156, however, being an expert infiltrator, recognizes what’s going on. After all, she’s messed with the minds of her victims like this so many times. Oh you gaslighting fuck. You use our heads against us but just making stuff up wouldn’t work. You have to use a real memory and tweak it here and there until the target doesn’t know what’s real. But we’re not simply watching what’s inside someone’s head, we’re in a world being shaped by it. That means… Two can play that game. After all, only eleven out of sixteen must survive. 156 lunges down from the roof, lands in an alley next to memory 387, turns herself visible, and runs out, stumbling upon him by “accident” and helping him and the two he saved get up. “What are you doing here?” she asks, watching the sky for incoming projectiles, “We have to get to safety. Any ideas?!”  387 looks at her, furrows his brows, but after a second he nods. “Yes, but there are a few friends we have to pick up first. Follow me!” *** Under ten minutes later, 156 and the memory of 387 are leading twelve changelings through a tunnel that can barely fit them in a single file, but they are still alive. No one is talking, no one knows what’s about to happen, no one knows where 387 is leading them, all they know is that they just survived aerial bombardment, a dragon flyover torching an entire street, and a house collapsing on them as they entered its cellar where the entrance to the escape tunnel was.  Fifteen more minutes later, they’re trudging through barrel-high water until they reach a wooden door covered in mud. 387 undoes several latches and the door opens inside on its own, pushed by the weight of water of a small pond surrounded by trees. Unfortunately for 156, there are still one too many changelings alive. The price of being just too good. With only a slight mental push, she stops the heart of the drone she considers the weakest, and it collapses into the water. As 387 immediately dives down to grab it, she uses the splashing to turn invisible and cover her flight up into the canopy of the forest they’ve entered. And that makes it eleven. “Eleven,” she hears the real 387’s voice, much older and more exhausted, “I knew it was eleven...” And of course you’d bring 387 here, monster, to see his “failure”. Score one for me. “And that’s all you did. Out of the razed cities, tens of thousands killed changelings, you saved eleven,” sneers Tantabus as 156 silently lands nearby. “I did everything I could,” says 387, “Even this took so much… selection. Queen after queen, they were all the same. I could only get a contact here, say an ambiguous word there, and sometimes a changeling would catch on. Holes, even most of those thought I was trying to bait them into proving their loyalty to the hive. I did everything I could.” “Really? You still call that everything?” Tantabus leans down to 387’s face, “With your mental powers, you could have shielded entire clutches from the oversight of the queens and helped them escape. Generations of changelings could have lived free if you weren’t a pathetic coward!” “How do you know?!” 387 barks back at Tantabus, “You don’t know anything about changelings.” “Simple - I’m in your head. Even if I know little about your species, I know it’s true because deep down you know it’s true.” 387 only hangs his head and sighs as Tantabus continues: “And I know you have countless memories of your failures which I will make you relive over and over until you break. After all, I’ve got time.” 387’s horn suddenly flashes, and even 156 winces as the echo of his mental lash against Tantabus washes over her. However, Tantabus only laughs. “I will enjoy draining that resistance out of you,” it says. A new portal appears, 156 gets ready to jump once again, and in the next moment they’re all gone. *** The second, four-ling, dreamscape group led by warrior 559 and being advised by infiltrator 918 find themselves in a familiar place after jumping through 387’s portal. “Seriously, the invasion again?” the warrior rolls his eyes as he leads the group away from pony defenders decimating the first waves of changelings raining from the sky.  “First, speak only using hive links. Judging from what 387 said, our experiences are being used against us but Tantabus doesn’t seem to understand the hive mind,” says 918 mentally, “How many of you actually have a more terrifying memory than this? Have any of you ever even left the hive?” “Point taken!” 559 suddenly bolts into a small alley, kicks open an emergency door to whatever establishment is inside the house, and ushers the other three inside. Next, he jabs his hoof into 918’s chest, “You’re the resident mental landscape expert. 387 said we’re supposed to disrupt the Tantabus’ fake reality. How do we do that?” “You heard everyone’s stories. Tantabus tried to terrify us before by putting us into a hopeless situation, same with 156 and the drones. Killing us wasn’t the goal. Right now, we’re back where we started - overwhelmed by ponies in an unwinnable situation, running low on love and about to get minced.” “Wait,” 791 speaks up, “Didn’t 387 say that we basically have unlimited love here?” In response, 559 smiles and pats the other warrior’s head before saying: “I’ll just let that sink in just to see if any of you have enough experience to realize what that means.” “Oh! Ohhhhhhhh...” 791 suddenly grins. “If we have infinite love, I can guide you through a transformation to shut off your brain’s fear center. That should completely block-” “Good idea, but no,” 559 shakes his head, “And here I was thinking you’d be the first one to catch on. One, fear is important. It keeps you alive. Two, if we were completely fearless then Tantabus might catch on and go for the kill instead of scare tactics. And three, the most important of all, we’re changelings.” “I almost forgot...” grumbles 918, rolling her eyes. “Oh shush, infiltrator. What I mean is that I don’t think that anyone ever fought a changeling who had unlimited love. Our in-combat transformations usually barely last a second or two, are targeted to a specific section of our carapace to block a blow we can’t dodge or empower our attack, but never in my life was I in a position to do, well, everything I can do.” “Oh...” 918 blinks, realizing that 559 is absolutely correct. Other than the top ranks, no changeling ever had enough love to avoid being limited by stamina. Instead of saying anything, a green burst of fire envelops her body, leaving her carapace hardened, growing sharp chitinous blades on the back of her legs, and sharpening her teeth. The warriors do the same, growing bulkier, toughening up, and even growing secondary armor-like sections of carapace they can easily get rid of if they get damaged. “Dibs on the first paladin we meet,” 559 cracks his neck, “I have a score to settle.” They charge out of the alley into the main street now swarming with ponies and chunks of destroyed changelings raining from the sky. A Royal Guard can barely turn to face 559 before a punch sends him flying through the ranks, knocking ponies away like a bowling ball, and hitting the wall of the store on the other side of the street clearly only as a corpse. “Hi,” 559 beams at the shocked ponies, “You’d better call those paladins of yours. I want a challenge.” And the carnage begins. Four warriors and one infiltrator hack a bloody swath through Canterlot, an unstoppable, methodical force meeting hordes of squishy defenders and painting the white city red. As support, changelings raining from the sky now have safe places to land, and the proper invasion begins. Slowly, screams of combat orders change into panic as changelings are now swarming the streets, dragging ponies out of houses, and cocooning everyone who can’t run away in time. And yet, something feels wrong.  “559, take a moment and regroup!” orders 918. “But we’re winning!” “Yes, I think that’s the problem!” 918 grabs 559’s shoulder before trying to pull on him with the same effect as attempting to move a continent. “2899, 791, cover us,” the warrior drags 918 through a kicked-out door of the nearest house before nodding at her, “You, elaborate.” “I need time. This reality feels different from when we appeared here. I- AH HAH! Only an infiltrator would be able to sense-” “We’re in combat,” 559 slaps her, “Don’t congratulate yourself, just TALK!” “I can sense the minds of real ponies around. My guess is that there’s night in Canterlot and Tantabus dragged real sleeping ponies into this nightmare of us scouring the city. We’re too strong to be a target right now so it’s using us to break others.” “So do we just hole up here and ride things out?” “We could… but if we’re connected to the real world, maybe what we do here can have a positive effect. I mean, we can recognize real changelings from the constructs so we can’t hit the wrong one by accident.” “You want us to start saving ponies?” “REAL ponies, yes. The real question is - how’s your unicorn transformation?” “Ohhh no,” 559 shakes his head, “If we’re doing this, then we’re doing this as ourselves. Let’s make those ponies have some extremely confusing nightmares.” And so, just like before, a group of 4 changelings charge out of a house. “WOOOO! LET’S PUNCH CHRYSALIS’ HEAD OFF AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!” screams 559, punching a changeling warrior’s head clean off, “Wait, you’re not her. Oh well, NEXT!” *** The final dreamscape portal opens mid-air and lets five drones through. Expectedly, none of them reacts quickly enough and with a series of thuds they all pile up on a wooden floor. “Where am I?” asks 31214. “On my head!” reports 19441 dutifully. “Cool, and me?” 13887 joins in. “That would be my flank!” 19441 clears up the situation once again. “Where are we, as in - all of us we?” asks 47989. “On me...” groans unlucky 10013 who, due to being in charge, ran through the portal first. With some apologizing, the drones roll away, stand up, and help slightly squashed 10013 back on all fours before looking around. “Where are we now? You know, now that we’re not on 10013,” asks 47989 again. “Good question,” mutters 10013. “Thanks, my head hurts a lot less today,” 47989 nods and winces, “Ouch! Note to self - no shaking.” They’re in a spacious room with a strangely low ceiling above them. The other half of the room is taken by a set of stairs leading up and splitting into two more staircases lining the walls and heading up to the floor above the drones. Wooden panels are lining the walls, and there’s moonlight coming through the closed windows and glass sections of the main door leading out. None of them have the knowledge to accurately describe the lobby of a big, two-story lodge, which is exactly where they are at the moment. “Does anyone hear anything?” asks 10013. “Nope!” is their synchronized answer. “Do you remember how we got here?” “Through a swirly!” once again, a clear answer. “And why are we here?” 10013 keeps pressing. “Uhhh,” all the other drones exchange glances. “To… keep each other alive?” replies 13887, “Like always.” “And to have fun,” adds 31214, “Wait, why do I know for sure that our orders were to have fun? Our orders have never been to have fun.” “And to only care about ourselves no matter what damage we cause,” 19441 scratches its head, “That’s weirdly specific.” “I’m not about to start questioning orders from high ranks,” 10013 shrugs, “We’re all certain 387 said all that, right?” More synchronized nodding. “So… fun then?” “WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “Careful fun!” “Woo!” The silent lobby of the lodge turns from a quiet place for contemplation into absolute chaos in a second as each drone charges towards the one thing that grabbed its attention the most inside the lobby. 31214 begins opening drawers of a wardrobe by a wall which, to its mild disappointment, prove mostly empty. Amids the slamming of drawers, one particular poke into a white ‘thingy’ by the door turns all the lights on in the room. Imitation torches running on electricity spread over the walls cast golden light everywhere, making astonished 47989 call out: “EEE! THIS BUTTON MAKES SO MANY SHINIES!” *Click!* Lights off. *Click!* Lights on. *Click!* Lights off. “Keep the shinies on!” yells 10013. *Click!* Lights on. “All done!” replies 47989. “Hey, guys, look!” 31214 runs around with a tablecloth thrown over it held by the drone’s stubby horn poking through it, “Imma white like a unicorn-OW!” it trips over the cloth and faceplants into the floor. *BOOM!* Sudden explosion rattles the windows as 13887 flies across the room, yelling from the top of its lungs: “OH MY HOOOOLES!”  It lands on the floor and rolls until it hits the wall. When it recovers and stands back up, swaying slightly, it points one unsteady hoof at a huge hearth across the room, now lit up and crackling. “It’s a drone launcher! You turn a turny, it makes a hissy noise, then you push a pushy, and BOOM!” “I wanna try that!” 19441 is already running over to the hearth. “Wait!” 31214 strips the tablecloth off of itself, “I’ve got an idea! Turn the launcher off.” Frantic five minutes go by with the drones grabbing and gathering anything even remotely soft into a pile across the room from the hearth. In the end, 13887, as the experienced pushy and turny operator, is standing by the hearth while 19441 is facing the hearth, a bunch of pillows tied to its back with ropes. “Drone ready?” 10013, as the designated leader, goes through the pre-launch checks. “Ready!” 19441 salutes. “Turn the turny!” orders 10013. “Turning the turny!” replies 13887 cheerfully. “Is it hissing?” asks 10013. 13887 puts its head into the hearth, hears the hissing, and sniffs the air for good measure. “Hissing and smelling!” “If anyone has any objections, say them or forever hold your piece.” “WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT!” 47989 hops up and down, “TOO MANY SHINIES!” It turns the lights off, leaving the room only barely lit by the bioluminescent teal glow of the changeling eyes. “Good thinking,” 10013 nods approvingly, “Now, push the pushy!”  “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” yells 13887. “Which ho-?” *Click.* *BOOOOM!* “WHEEE- thud!” Burning pillows and pieces of cloth scatter everywhere as a plume of blue flames shoots out of the hearth and propels 19441 away. “Too much fire?” 31214 exchanges glances with 10013. “Maybe,” the leading drone nods before raising its voice, “Turn on the shinies!” “Shining the shinies!” salutes 47989, still in the spirit of things. *Click.* Lights on. “Woooo, that was fun!” announces 19441, swaying, blinking, and dazedly patting down fires all over its body. “You wanna go for a ride too, 47989?” asks 10013. “I don’t think my noggin would take it,” the drone shakes its head carefully, “31214?” “Maybe later,” 31214 shrugs, “Wanna play ‘find the shiny’?” “Sure,” 10013 shrugs. “Do we split up to search the place?” asks 47989. “What? No! Did you hit your head or something?” 10013 frowns at it. “Umm… yeah?” replies 47989. “Oh, right,” 10013 facehoofs, “Then no. We stick together for safety no matter what.” And so, the drones start exploring the upper floor of the lodge and shoving everything they find interesting in pillow cases before gathering those at the top of the stairs. As they unload their haul and turn around to keep stripping the lodge of everything that’s not nailed down, a loud blow makes the main door downstairs crack. “Did someone turn the drone launcher on?” asks 10013, turning around with a sinking feeling in its stomach. “Nope, we’re all up here,” replies 13887 helpfully. “Yeah, I was worried about that,” it rushes into the center of the T-section where the stairs split and looks at the main entrance just as a sharp machete cleaves the lock in two. The others join it with quizzical expressions a breath later, only to see the door being kicked open by a powerful buck of a bulky earth pony wearing a mask covered in holes and with the machete fastened to his foreleg. The pony looks at them, grunts, and gives the machete an experimental swing.  13887 looks at 10013, and asks: “Not a ling?” “Not a ling,” 10013 shakes its head. “Bad guy?” The pony laughs before 10013 can answer. “I will paint the walls with your blood!” he points the machete at the group. “Definitely a bad guy,” 10013 nods. “So… we can do whatever we want without getting into trouble?” 31214’s eyes light up. “Yup,” 10013 nods again. The following moment of silence is only filled with hoofsteps as the pony starts walking across the wooden floor before- “DIBS ON THE METAL SLASHY!” yells 19441. “I WANT THE MASK, I WANT THE MASK!” 31214 jumps up and down. With synchronization that would bring a tear to a warrior’s eye, the drones barrel down the stairs. 10013 draws the pony’s attention by running in first, and quickly jumps backwards as he swings the machete at it. In the meantime, the others surround him. He swings at 19441 attempting to grab the handle of the machete, and knocks the drone away, only to have to sit down on his haunches to swat away 31214 lunging at its face, yelling: “Maaaaaaask!” “HE HAS BOOTIES!” comes from behind the pony a moment before he feels tugging on his hind leg. It kicks the annoyance away. “Owww… not in the head...” whimpers a mournful voice. “THAT. WAS. MEAN!” 19441 points at 47989 stumbling around on three legs while holding its head with a foreleg. “You will all die here!” the pony raises the machete and snarls at 47989. The machete drops on the floor along with the pony’s fetlock after being dug off by 19441. “Hah! Got it. Classic misdirection,” 19441 scuttles off with the cut off limb. As the pony looks in disbelief palpable even through his mask at its missing hoof, he finds himself suddenly missing his hind legs as well. A glance behind reveals 47989 and 13887 scurrying off with one boot and fetlock each.  47989 sticks its tongue at him while 13887 pouts and yells: “That’s what you get for kicking 47989!” “Yeah, that’s what you get for kicking 47989!” 47989 joins in, “Wait, that’s me. Ouch… that kick really hurt.” “I will-” growls the pony, now on its belly and attempting to drag himself along the floor, seemingly not exactly bothered by three missing fetlocks. “Yoink!” a weight lands on his back for a moment before two small hooves pull off his mask, revealing a twisted and scarred face. A moment later, 31214 is running around with the mask on, yelling, “Imma scary pony now! Hahahahaaa! Swish! Hack! 19441, lend me that slashy!” “NEVER! IT’S MINE!” While the others muck around, 47989 and 13887 trying to persuade each other to trade something interesting so that one would have both boots, and 31214 and 19441 doing the same for the machete and the mask, 10013 watches the now crippled pony crawl around just in case he tries something. A warrior or an infiltrator would finish the pony off, but a drone simply doesn’t have it in itself. After a short moment, the drone deems the pony harmless and starts dragging the pillow cases downstairs towards the exit. By the time it’s finished, the others have stopped screwing around and gathered around the loot. “This triple stick made of yellow-soft for… whoa, you have cutters?” 31214 offers a three-pronged candle holder for a bunch of butter knives. “Yeah, the drawers were full of those,” 13887 digs into his bag of swag, pulling out a bunch of forks, “These stabbers too.” “Neeeeat!” 31214 examines its own bag, “What could I trade-” “DIE!” a furious voice croaks loudly. “No dice, I didn’t find any,” continues 31214 distractedly. “I don’t think that guy was giving you bartering ideas,” 10013 hops over the loot stacked like sandbags in the doorway. Everyone else joins it, and in a moment there are only five drone heads peeking out from behind the makeshift barricade as the pony tries to push himself up on his stumps towards the ‘pushy’. 19441 sniffs the air. “Hey, do you smell the l-” The pony reaches the ignition button for the hearth. Everything goes white. The drones find themselves lying by a lake, dazed and groaning. 10013 sits up first. “I think the guy was just mad we were hogging the drone launcher...” it mumbles. “Wha- whuh- whee-?” 47989, bleeding from its nose and ears, keeps muttering confused nonsense before its eyes focus on the burning pyre that used to be the huge lodge. “I didn’t even manage to yell wheee...” 31214 pushes itself up, pouting. 19441 sits up instantly. “-launcher fuel. Do you guys smell launch-” it looks at the burning building, ”Hah! I knew I smelled launcher fuel. What happened?” “The pony wanted to use the drone launcher too but overdid it on the smelly fuel, I think,” 10013 replies, blinking and trying to shake off concussion. 13887 rolls over on its belly, the fire of the lodge reflecting in its eyes. “That’s why we called it ‘drone launcher’, not pony launcher...” it shakes its head, “Should we have labeled it or something?” “I wouldn’t worry about it,” 10013 shakes its head, “47989, you okay, buddy? You’re leaking a bit more than is healthy.” “Imokay...” the drone spits out a wad of goop and shoves it into its nose to stop the bleeding, “All goob.” “Awww, we lost all the loot,” 13887 looks around at the lakeside covered in chunks of masonry, wood, and random items. Luckily, the lake seems to be surrounded by many other cabins and lodges from all sides, so there’s hope for more loot once they recover a little. “You know what?” 10013 suddenly stands up, “We’re all alive and we’ve had fun, just like 387 wanted. I think we deserve a reward. Stay here and keep an eye on 47989 leaking. If it sprouts any more, plug them immediately. 47989, you report any suspected leaks immediately.” “Bill bo!” 47989 salutes and misses its head, “Oopf.” 10013 smiles and runs off. The drones keep checking 10013’s hive link just in case it gets into any trouble, but for the next twenty minutes everything feels calm and peaceful, other than more and more crackling of flames bursting out of every single building around. Eventually, 10013 returns and encircles the area with its hoof. “The biggest shiny we’ve ever seen.” “Oooooh!” the drones start clopping their hooves together in realization. And so, five drones sit by the lakeside with eyes sparkling and the widest smiles possible as the world quite literally burns around them. All’s well that ends well.