Chapter 1: Work
The snow was beating against Frill Spike’s face as he flew his way through the city, his pointed frill fluttering as he did. The goggles assured that the tiny balls of fluff kept away from his eyes, but they did not keep his face—scrunched in a determined snare—safe from the chill. Never-the-less, he shook the sensation. The constant pelting across his carapace only served to make him fly with more effort than he needed. His membranes were beginning to tire from beating his wings at a fast rate, but the changeling was not going to relieve the pressure.
The carrier bag that he carried was strapped firmly to his side, assuring that none of its contents fell out. They were important for what he was doing. In fact, he made it his mantra to make sure that nothing that he carried in the bag was ever damaged. For him, each object he transported made an important, sovereign reason for him to not let them go unaccounted for.
He turned as the face of a building came up to him and he continued down the street, getting closer to his destination. As he drew closer, he scanned the streets below to look for a landing zone. The streets were bustling, as per-usual, but that never stopped him from trying for a spot as close as possible to where he was supposed to be. Fortunately, he found a part of the sidewalk with enough space for him to make a landing. He slowed himself down, and then began a slightly fast vertical descent. He slowed down once the ground came close enough that he needed to do so. With a fluent motion, he planted his hooves down onto the concrete and then made a brisk trot forward until he was at the entrance of an apartment building.
He checked the names on the roster outside and found the one he was looking for. He then entered and began the trot upstairs. He was panting from the exertion he was putting into the trot, but he kept going to despite of that. The whole world could have been falling apart at that moment and it would not keep him from making this delivery or any other. He made it to the correct floor and made his way through the hall, checking the apartment numbers as he did. He finally came to the one he was looking for.
Still not slowing down, he rapped his hoof on the door whilst pulling out a package from his carrier bag with his magic. He waited, now trying to control his breath if just to speak once the pony living there came to the door and opened it. Finally, the door creaked open to reveal an earthpony, who stared back at the changeling who wore a mail courier’s hat and jacket. Frill Spike brought the package close enough to the pony so that it was now in his reach.
“Package for you sir,” Frill Spike managed keep his voice on level as he presented the package.
The pony smiled as he took the package into his hooves. “Ah, thank you.”
Frill Spike nodded, adopting an almost triumphant pose, but kept it well controlled as to not make it apparent. “Just doing my job.”
With that, he quickly turned back the way he came and began another brisk trot, all the way back to the entrance of the building. He looked to the next package he had to deliver and scanned the address it was meant to go to. He exited the building, looking to the sky. With a buzz of his wings, he was aloft again, pushing past the falling snow.
The post office was active with ponies, all needing to pick up, mail, or package something. A line formed at the counter, three clerks calling forward the next available pony to see what they needed. One of them, a sky-blue mare with a brown mane pulled back in a bun, was answering inquires about some delayed deliveries. She was explaining what the situation for that was, though the pony listening did not seem to enjoy the explanation. She reassured him that the office would take care of it. The pony gave a sigh and went on his way, leaving the mare to close her yellow eyes and to allow her head to fall into her hooves.
“If I have to hear another complaint about that route,” She said in an exasperated sigh.
She heard the bell by the door ring as a familiar changeling walked in, clothing almost covered in snow.
“Oh, thank Celestia,” The proclamation of relief was almost at a blissful shout. “Frill Spike, you’re here.”
The changeling gave a slight chuckle at her weariness. “That’s an obvious observation, Parcel.”
She gave a slight and amused snort at the attempt of a joke. “Well it’s a very welcoming observation because I have a problem I need your help with.”
She motioned for him to follow her to the back of the office, telling the two clerks to take over the line for a bit. She and Frill Spike entered into the back room, a map of Manehatten with colored lines showing routes hung from the wall. Next to the routes were names posted to each one. The one she pointed a hoof at had no name assigned to it.
“Here’s the problem,” she began. “One of mail carriers I had assigned to this route had to call in sick for the whole week because of a cold.”
“Well that’s serious,” Frill Spike said flatly.
Parcel gave a sly smirk. “This coming from the changeling criticized me for being obvious?”
Frill returned the smirk. “You were saying, boss?”
She continued. “Well, obviously we’re a little short-handed at the moment and I can’t think of anypony who’s willing to go out through this frightful weather. But, I do know someone who’s been begging for some overtime and is more than willing to bear with the cold.” She gave another smirk to Frill, who looked liked he was almost ready to bounce with excitement.
“I have to warn you though,” she continued, a sense of concern being felt by Frill. “The route includes stops in the rich part of town, and you know what those old, stuck up ponies’ feelings are when it comes to changelings.” She nervously placed her hoof down, waiting for his response. “So, what do you say?”
Despite the warning, Frill knew the answer before he even gave it. “You had me at hello, boss.”
Parcel smiled, totting over to him and gave him a pat on the back, a wave of relief and happiness coming from her. “Thanks, Frill.”
The changeling gave a happy nod.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, walking over to a locked cabinet in the room. She took a key into her mouth and unlocked it, opening it to reveal several small bags of bits inside. She took six of them and set them on the table in the middle of the room. “Keep up the good work,” she said, closing and locking the cabinet again then trotted back to the front.
Frill Spike looked to the bags with joy, taking off the mail bag he had and hanging it on a rack on the wall. From the same rack, he took his travel bag and floated the bits into it, strapping it on afterwards. He punched-out at the clock at the side of the door and walked back outside, giving a wave to Parcel as he left. Once he exited the post office, he sat on his haunches and pumped of his hooves in delight. He looked through the window of the office to see Parcel giving a small chuckle at his enjoyment. He rolled his eyes with a smirk before spreading his wings and taking back off into the cold Manehatten skyline.
The winds kept bearing down on him but Frills Spike did not let that get to him. How could he when he had finally gotten the opportunity he was looking for? He had flown higher than usual just to make swaying glides side-to-side in a symphony of happiness. He would have done some loops about, but he did not want to delay his flight. He wanted to get home as soon as possible. He needed to account for how far he has gotten, and how much further it was until he reached his ultimate goal. He already had a good idea about it, but he just wanted to make sure. A double-check on his status would insure how good he was doing and, admittedly, whet the appetite of his ego.
He decided to make a quick detour before truly heading home. He flew in a joyous flight, going about the sky in graceful motions, turning about the corners of buildings. In his happy flight, he made sure to keep his eye to the buildings he flew by, making sure he did not pass by where he was going to. His destination came up and he stopped his aerial performance and set down in front of a tenant building. There was basement window to the side of a staircase that he looked into. He smiled at what he saw inside.
It was fairly dark, the only light coming from the window he was peering through, but he could see what was inside. There was a small space with a motif of some dull green carpeting. The continuous color stopped at a small space of white tiles that made up the area of the kitchen, along with a counter. Somewhere to the side was sliding door into a bathroom that held a shower in place of a bathtub. The white walls were bare. The faintest fading of its pure color could be seen. In short, it was a small, dull studio which painted an almost depressing picture.
It was perfect.
At least, the rent was. It was not his first choice but for his current position, it was such a hopeful goal. Something for him to take some pride in, to show how well he was off. A place that shows that he had some meaning to his life, a purpose to work towards and achieve. More importantly, something to show how capable he is. It was not the greatest place to have to his name, but it still meant something. All he had to do was obtain it and he would feel accomplished. He was sure of it.
Until then he had to get the bits to buy it. Especially since he offered the landlord the first year’s rent if he held it for him. With his new mailing route, that would come much quicker.
He stepped back from the window, almost having to force himself away from it. Taking one look back at it, he flapped his wings into a buzz, taking flight for home.
The sun was beginning to set as Frill Spike followed the alley below to a spacious opening between five buildings. It was used mainly for practical uses. It offered back doors into buildings, dumpsters and garbage cans lined against a wall of a building, and anything else that needed the space.
There was one object that seemed out of place though. Around the center was a large concrete cylinder, most likely left behind after some type of construction job. Whatever reason it was left behind—either because it had a small hole on the side or the construction just did not bother to take it—did not matter to him. What was inside of it is what he was concerned over. He floated down to one of the openings on either side of it and entered.
Inside, the small hole served to shed whatever light was left in the sky to reveal some sheets covers, a blanket, and a pillow. To the side were three large plastic bags that contained other bags of bits, all counted with their amounts written on the small, leather pouches. He gave a comforting sigh at the sight of it.
Home, sweet home.
He trotted over the blanket and plopped down onto it. He began to levitate the bags of bits he earned today opened the larger, plastic ones. With much glee, he began to lift each bag and set them in front of him. Putting them in a bank may have been preferable, but he always preferred keeping track of his own belongings. He had done this many times, but there was just too much joy in it. He began to look at the written amounts on each bag and tallied up the entire count. Bags with 20’s, 100’s, even 200’s, he counted them all until he reached a sum.
“And that makes about 18,200 bits,” he placed the last bag into the plastic one and sealed it back, all the bits inside jingling as he did. He then levitated a quill and some parchment from under the covers. There were calculations written about it and he was now adding in more. Some previous ones were lost on another parchment so he had to run through the basic parts of the math again.
“Okay, so I get five bits per hour and each work day is eight hours,” he began as he performed a bit of long multiplication, mentally thanking Parcel for teaching him a bit about basic math. “That’s 280 bits a week. I’ve been working for probably almost a year and a half, I think,” he stopped to think about what day it is. “It’s already been a week this month, so…840 bits to go, I think.” He took a moment to remember the rent for the studio. “1700 bits, multiply that by 12 months…20,400 for a year. 20,400 minus 18,200…,” he performed the subtraction problem and came up with a very reasonable number. “I’ll have to earn 2200 bits before I actually rent it. Then all I have to is focus on making enough for some savings and to buy some furniture and food.”
He set down the parchment and quill, beaming with delight. This was perfect. Almost two full years of working hard, pushing himself to whatever limits he came across, and it was going to pay off. He could probably go buy the studio the first chance he got but…no. He wanted to make sure he had just a little more just in case. He made it this far, so he can make it just a bit longer.
He gave a great yawn, looking out to the snow that fell outside. It would get cold at night, but he always managed to bear it. Tonight would be no different. Besides, with how close he was to his ultimate goal, it would be worth it for a few more nights of freezing. He began to draw his sheets and rest his head against the pillow. He took a look outside the hole, the waning light of the sun allowing him for a somewhat blissful sleep. He closed his eyes and began to nod off.
This plan just had to pay off.