//------------------------------// // Chapter 14: Keyline // Story: Equestria Delivery // by JLB //------------------------------// *** *** ... June 16th, 1013 AN - 11:55 AM Carol City, Equestria The wing weights swished through the air as the mare’s wings lifted them up and down, again and again. The plastic poles they were attached to shook from each rash impact. A still, cool wind slipped in through the open window, brushing against her flank. The treadmill’s crystalline display shone a red light. She continued to work the weights until a quiet, raspy cough left her throat. Her wings drooped, sending the bars bouncing up and down a few more times. Breathing heavily, Ditzy fell to the floor and rolled onto her back. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, where the fan, recently turned off, still rotated its blades a few centimeters a second. Her good eye was bloodshot and twitching, while her bad eye glared straight ahead, unmoving. A low, deep blare of a horn came from the ocean. She raised her hooves to cover her ears and rolled in place, struggling to shut her eyes. Ditzy got up slowly and left the room. Strands of her wet mane drooped into her good eye, causing her to shake her head. As she did so, she nearly fell over, having to take a deep breath. Both her eyes twitched. With slow, short steps, she reached the shower room door. Her head butted it open, and the mare fell in face first. Wet sand and rotted pieces of debris met her snout and body. The strong, salty wind blew against her hide for a few seconds, until her hooves slowly elevated the mare off the beach. She raised her head, gazing at the dim, cloudy sky with a colorless blot looking down from the side. Lispy, harsh noises left her as she moved her mouth. Strewn all over the sand were bird heads and rubber masks. One, a grey pigeon, peeked out upright, looking at her with two empty eyeholes. To her right was the ocean, its dark waves splashing closer and closer to her with the rising tide. To her left, a high cobbled rock wall with ornate railings at the top. Behind those railings stood, just barely rising above the edge, a tall, bulky figure with oblong, bouncing wings and a stubby, wide horn. It threatened to tumble over with each gust of wind, but the wide row of teeth on its snout remained in place. “Is this it?” Ditzy stepped toward the sink and mirror in front of her, turned the tap on, and lowered her snout under it. The water spread all over the rubber that encased her head. The light orange dove’s visage raised a minute later, a pair of twitching eyes looking into the mirror. Her hooves grasped the sink as the tide came crashing in. A grey pegasus mare’s face stared back, both eyes shrunken and bloodshot, mouth open wide, ears folded back. Her long, blonde mane stuck haphazardly to her sweaty hide. Splatters of red covered her snout. Ditzy blinked a few times, lowering her head, breathing stiff through the mask, while the mare in the mirror opened her mouth even wider. “Why come so far? Why do this? Isn’t it so much simpler? Has it got to be so difficult?” The mare coughed, droplets of water rolling down the mask. She turned away, her wings drawing lines in the sand as they hung down. She paused at a stack of wet papers, half-buried in the sand. 010603, Sandy Shores. Resident ferrier, tax dodger from our files, dead on shore, boat stolen. Head smashed in. No witnesses, forensics say half a week old. Burying under riot cases, it's enough work as is. ES/AS say may be same thing as other ones all over Flora Shores. It's oddly specific, someone wanted to get in? Best if Com and the media both stay zip. City full of rotted fish as it is. -VP A heavy thunk to her side got the mare’s attention for a moment. An empty boat was tumbling on the waves. Behind it, in the ocean, rock-perched towers were awash with dark orange flames. Ditzy hung her head, holding against another heavy gust of wind. 160703, Cadence Memorial Rehabilitation Center. Hello promotion. Com went down in flames over this. Entire rehab center a wreck, over twenty dead... Like the others, quick, efficient. Definitely not an animal. Ten armed guards plus owner dead. Two survivors, a syn and an earth mare. Mare tenderized, lost ear plus massive gut wound, roach is fine. First description of killer. Matches previous reports. Witnesses blabbed to the media, so we'll have to work on suppression. Passing this to ES/AS. Once we calm things down, I'll be in touch again through different channels as per my new position. - VP The mare’s eyes rolled back and she rushed back to the sink, leaning her head back, a low, guttural sound escaping her throat. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Breathing loudly, she tore her eyes open. Her wet face, complete with a slight bruise on her forehead, stared back from the darkness. Her wings dug into the shower room carpet, one of them having slipped into the empty bath. The only light coming in was out the creak of the door. She thrashed her head and pressed her hooves against her temples. Having looked around, she entered the hallway. In front of the door sat a fat, brown minotaur, wearing an unbuttoned pink palmtree shirt, dozens of trinkets hanging off his neck. He cupped his face in his hands, covering up a bullet hole. “Hello?” came from further down the hallway. Ditzy turned her head and saw the body of a schangeling stretched out on his belly. The back of his head was crushed in, glowing green. “Can I help you?” The pegasus closed the door and made a few steps up the hallway, folding her wings. In front of her, she saw a great number of figures occupying the kitchen. A concrete grey unicorn mare wearing broken glasses leaned against the wall of the corridor, covering it with brain matter, her jaw trembling. A blue blonde unicorn stallion in Majors clothes lay with his head on the coffee table, the lava lamp peeking through one of the gaping holes in his face. “Hello?” sounded the faint, distorted voice from the hallway. It continued, repeating over and over. Ditzy looked back and saw the two corpses there consumed by darkness, only the wide row of teeth staring back. “Can I help you?” The mare continued to move, unsteadily clutching the couch with a hoof. On the couch sat two auburn-maned unicorns in shining silver suits, one’s head lying on the other’s shoulder. Their eyes darted from side to side. Ditzy followed their gaze, staring for a moment at the screen of the videodrome. It was stuck on a color test image with the screen’s menu options floating over the colorful bars. Each option read “Help”. “Hello? Can I help you?” Directly below the screen was the body of a bluish grey minotaur in a stained white suit. As Ditzy walked behind the couch, clinging with to her chest with a hoof, he raised his head and looked at her. It fell back down immediately after, producing no noise. Behind the couch, in front of rows of bookshelves, two chairs and a potted fern plant, several purple unicorns stood, staring at a half dozen decaying bodies. Some of the mares were kicking the ones that were cracked, jagged and black. The filly among them stood directly inside a mutilated, dismembered, gored, scorched body of a magenta pegasus stallion, whose blonde-dyed mane and broken aviator shades sunk halfway into the floor. Ditzy backed away slowly, staring at her. There was a half-piece red and orange phoenix mask on her face, covering the eyes and the top of the snout, a string wrapping around the back of her head. The filly looked at her with worried, fearful eyes, and raised a hoof, moving her jaw. “Hello? Can I help you?” As she walked back, Ditzy found herself inside a hospital bed. The mare stood still for some time, looking at the bed cutting her body in half. She then turned around, coming face to face with the big, grinning face of a changeling who wheezed loudly. Tight bandages kept the synaptic’s eyes shut, and the slight initial echo of the breathing got stronger with time. Eyes bulging, Ditzy continued to move, straight through the bed, until she passed the column to which the videodrome was attached. A gust of wind met her from the open window by the kitchen. In front of her was the slumped, headless body of a brown, bare-chested minotaur in a leather cape. Beyond the stump of his neck, next to the kitchen sink, was a cutting board. Dozens of tiny jagged, black bodies lay on it, chopped into bits with the curved, sharp knife embedded into the wood. The mare shuddered as a huge presence waddled through her - a large minotaur with a sharp green mohawk, wearing a skull-and-chain ornamented vest. He stumbled through the kitchen and the living room, disappearing into the darkness in the hallway. “Hello?” On top of the kitchen table, several bodies were piled up. A brown unicorn stallion with a sharp goatee, whose pink suit was splattered with blood; a shredded feminine synaptic in a vest and tie, with blisters covering her face; a braided, half-shaven Yonaguni unicorn mare, whose bludgeoned head sunk into the hole of the changeling’s chest. On the chairs to either side of the table were a raven and an albatross, both of them having their talons crossed on the table. The albatross turned his head toward Ditzy and smirked with the intact half of his scarred beak. The raven’s beak was moving, but the same distorted words rang out from nowhere in particular. “Can I help you?” Beneath the table was a contorted, long-necked avian shape. The crane’s broken neck snaked to the side so her dead eye could stare into the mare’s. After a few moments, it looked away. Ditzy hung her head, making shaky steps toward the opposite side of the kitchen. Tapping, knocking noises came from the window. Covering up the dim blot of the sun was a griffon covered in ice, mashing her beak rigidly against the window. Small raindrops trickled down the glass. The mare stopped next to the coldbox. There, backed into the corner, were two brightly glowing synaptics. The green light emerging from their eyes, mouths and wounds shot into her face, while the corner itself remained in darkness. She rubbed a hoof into both her eyes. Opening them, she saw in front of herself a snarling, scarred, long-maned changeling standing over the body of the other, huddled in the corner. Half of the standing changeling’s body was mashed into bits and fragments, melting into goop that dripped through the floor. He glared at her, although one of his eyes was mostly liquified, while his neck was missing entire chunks of carapace. He stood on three legs, two of which were mutilated, and pointed at her with a stump. The changeling below him, in the corner, sat in a fetal position, grasping his elongated, sunken in snout with his hooves and rocking in place. His body was shifting proportions, going from foal-sized to overly tall and slim. “Hello? Can I help you?” Ditzy grabbed her head with her hooves and stumbled backwards, spreading her wings to avoid tripping. Her breathing was stifled and heavy. She made a few steps, just about reaching the couch. Nearly there, she fell over on her side. Her chest heaved, all of her limbs shook. While she lay on the carpet, Dinky slowly approached her. It took her standing over the mare’s shaking body and grabbing her with her own hooves for Ditzy to open her eyes, both staring through the filly. “Hello?.. Mom?!..” The mare’s eyes continued to stare. The filly stepped back and slowly took off the half-mask and beak from her face. She tossed it into the hallway and rushed toward her mother, seeing that her gaze had lightened. “I’m… I’m sorry. They were handing these out on the streets… I thought you’d like it if I got one. I mean…” Ditzy’s eyes halted again and looked directly into Dinky’s. The filly put a hoof over her mouth and backed off a little. The mare got up on her hooves, twitching. She hung her head with a deep sigh and coughed. “I… I thought I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… Mom. I’m sorry. This, all of this…” The filly stammered and gulped. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea anymore. I thought I knew, but… I don’t like it here anymore. We should leave. I don’t like what’s happening.” The pegasus looked over the room. Her eyes went over the other fillies that stood over the broken bodies by the chairs. Behind Dinky, the two islander unicorns still stared at the screen. The hallway remained a grinning darkness, at the far end of which stood faint armored shapes, parts of their apparel glowing weakly. “Mom… You’ve done so much… But I think it’s best if we just leave. You’ve been looking so… off. You don’t like it here, do you?” “Hello?” “I thought I’d like it here, but I don’t… I really don’t. I know you have the money. You have… a lot of money.” Dinky gulped. “Mom, I don’t like what we’re doing. We could go. You’ll get better. It’ll all get better.” Ditzy closed her eyes and stumbled forward. Kneeling on one hoof, she took Dinky in her other one and held her close as tears poured out of her unblinking eyes. Her body trembled, while quiet, rasping noises left her throat. Soon enough, the filly began to cry as well. “Hello? Can I help you?” On the coffee table lay an open envelope. The mare’s eyes finally blinked as they caught it, torn open and slightly crumpled. A blue stamp was visible on its side. “I’m sorry…” Dear Ditzy Doo, The coffin you have ordered is in stock at the Floral Falls Mall. For quick delivery, we suggest you visit us on short notice so we can arrange terms of service. A mare of your age should not have to carry weights on her own. In case you cannot, our crew will make do with your apartment. Do not worry about the current policing issues in your area. Your decision to spend the funds on stable future investments instead of appealing to the occupation is admirable. We employ highly discrete specialists to carry out deliverance. You can surely relate. We are expecting you at 85 Starling Ave. We advise you bring the assigned payment with you. Come as you will. Yours, Amethyst Star. “They know, Mom.” Ditzy finally let go of her daughter and turned around, opening the balcony. The charred, lacerated body of a yellow unicorn in blue and white lay below. As his dislodged jaw moved, so did his blood-caked moustache. After casting a brief look to her side, right at the towering, formless, distorted figure with two green searchlight eyes, the mare dropped down off the balcony. 85 Starling Ave - 11:30 AM The downward momentum carried the mare up, out of the cover of water. Her body shot out of the ocean, splashing two ponies that stood at the small pier in front of the shopping center. Before she could land where they stood, the two retreated, racing up the straight path into the mall. The doors were slammed inward as the pair entered and disappeared down a wide entry hall. Her wings carried her a few meters into the building proper, where she landed, dripping with water. The heavy oceanside wind carried the dense rain into the four-story building through the open doors and many busted windows. The two thugs’ wet tracks led her down to the lower floor, which was empty, excluding some chairs and machinery covered with tarp. A defunct ice rink was in the middle, the floor full of cracks and holes. In front of it stood the pair she was chasing. One of them flickered out of the shape of a bangy brown earth stallion in dark pink into a radiant synaptic. The other, a white stallion in a tight blue hoodie, pointed a hoof at her, shouted, and ran off. The changeling and Ditzy stared at each other, both tilting their heads, until she heard steps to her side. She turned and sent her forehooves, locked together, speeding in that direction, elevating herself with her wings. A chitinous crunch sounded out, obscured by many more hoofsteps, and a wet splash stained her forelegs. A buck followed immediately, covering her hind hooves in green ooze. Fallen on the ground in front of her was a grey pegasus in a blue postal outfit with a pigeon mask on her head. Green crackles covered the body shortly, but by then, three more had surrounded the mare. They twitched, the empty eyeholes of their masks occasionally lighting up green. Their wings were spread, flexing in place, stiff, distorted breaths coming from behind the masks. Her forehead collided with the rubber on the head of the one on her left, throwing him to the side. A steady green light came from the changeling’s eyes as they slid on the floor, hitting a step with their head. The other two leapt ahead, avoiding the living projectile. One immediately turned and made a stabbing motion with a wing, which was intercepted by the mare’s locked forehooves. A wet, fizzling crack rang out, and with a distorted, raspy breath, Ditzy went for the third one. The pigeonhead charged for her, only to pause from a gust of air she sent with a wing, and they fell on the dusty floor, a pair of hooves clinched around their throat. A single push saw the hooves collide inside the flickering throat, covered in fizzling synapse. The one that was thrown had recuperated and was standing again when the mare was done. Without further delay, they swung their wings toward her, launching short, curved blades. She side-stepped the familiar knives without losing speed and wrestled the pigeonhead to the floor before another was thrown. Her bad eye stared into an eyehole, while the good one darted to the side for a second. The changeling contorted as a hoof stomped through a wing and grabbed a freshly formed knife, which was jabbed into an eyehole. With sparks spitting out of the nonexistent horn, the flickering body twisted one last time and fell limp. The blade evaporated before Ditzy could take it. The last one alive - the synaptic with two cracks in his head, who rolled on the ground, spreading around green ooze - went still after the mare’s forehoof crashed right through the chest carapace. She stood there, the fizzling synapse singing her coat and the skin slightly. The leg began to jerk, widening the wound, and the rest of her followed, convulsing in a short seizure. She opened her eyes, both twitching, both irises shrunk, and let out a loud breath. The mare went around the abandoned premises, while more and more faint hoofsteps and light buzzing came from all over the building. Having made a U-turn around the defunct rink, she ended up in front of the second set of stairs, down which came more of the pigeonheads. Her body torpedoed into them, cracking one’s neck in half with the initial impact. The other two were only halfway through raising their own wings, one of which she grabbed with her mouth. A harsh tug sent the changeling headfirst into a wall. The last one, having darted forward and unfolded the wings so as to strike, had the mare directly in front of their beak within moments, out of reach for the knives. She toppled the changeling, stomping on both wings once it was down, and glared at the grey pigeon’s head. Her teeth sunk into the changeling’s snout, around the beak, and pulled, until the mare was thrown back with a piece of chitin clenched in her teeth. The changeling writhed silently at first, but quickly gained a distorted, haphazard noise library as the pigeon’s visage evaporated off its body. Ditzy ascended the stairs, delivering one last bash against the stairs to a still conscious shapeshifter. Her mouth kept moving, and faint, hoarse sounds were coming out, while her eyes remained fixed directly in front of herself. The dim sun behind the clouds shone right at her once she made it to the top. Tiny ash particles blew against her snout, half-illuminated by the orange flame spreading over the walls. She approached a swarm of pigeonheads, four on the ground near a broken stairway, several more perched on snarling stone statues on the tall walls and columns. The identical pegasi spread around her, isolating the mare with narrowly missing wing stabs, but she continued toward the closest on stiff legs. Within the moment their wing was retracted, she took their head in her forehooves and rigidly spread her own wings. The changeling was quickly lifted a few meters into the air and thrown onto their back, pieces of them cracking under the weight and impact. Another crack shortly followed as the mare’s stained forehooves came together inside their head, previously pressing against and into the blackness beyond the eyeholes. On landing, her wings spread again, letting the mare turn toward the nearest one. While the changeling dashed to the side the moment Ditzy’s head turned to aim her fixed gaze onto them, the mare homed in, half-floating toward them despite the zig-zag series of side-steps they performed, unable to use their wings on the retreat. Her grey hoof thwacked the armed wing once it passed close enough, and within the moment of imbalance, she was in front of the changeling, crashing her green-stained head against the mask repeatedly. The body fell over and flickered. She turned around at the ones that remained behind, and on the statues above. The mare’s unmoving eyes saw nothing either on the floor or directly above. Her neck angled a little, the head twitching. Her hind leg shot out behind her, bucking right into a mass of rubber that instantly gave way to rubber and steaming goop. Convulsing and folding her ears back, she flapped her wings mechanically, righting herself to do the same to another, who came from the side. A stiff, simultaneous motion of her wings sent her back a short distance, hooves gliding along the floor. Two more pigeons landed there where she was moments ago, their eyeholes fixed on he. She stood unmoving until another whole-body twitch saw her step to the side and raise her wing, offsetting the third one, who was nearly on the mark. The changeling was thrown slightly to the side, failing to land on her. Ditzy was still yet again, even as they approached her - only her head moved slightly, tilting to the side and then righting itself at a rapid pace. Her deep breaths and the crackling of fire were, for a few moments, the only sounds in the hall, as the pigeonheads vanished silently. Slowly, the mare looked around behind herself. Her head moved her still eyes from one beaten, oozing body to the next, one’s snout smashed into the floor, one’s wing half-torn from the carcass, one’s forehoof broken and one eye gouged out. Ditzy’s eyes were moved to look at the remaining snake-like iris, after which the mare advanced up the broken stairs, making a short jump over some broken steps. The pegasus went through the narrow, shadowy, once pearly white alley with her rigid wings brushing against the smooth stone. Screeching, shouting, and an overpowering crackling of fire and lightning emerged from all around her. More of the pigeonheads descended in front of her, falling quickly. Their necks cracked and twisted, their forehooves broke, their wings split apart, and their snouts turned to chitinous rubble. She continued to walk on stilted legs, more and more liquid covering her grey coat after each one. She stopped for a second each time one appeared in front of her, dropping from the orange, smoke-covered sky, or rolled in from inside the walls. Occasionally, gusts of air blew from her and to the walls, her wings hanging off in a new angle. Several times, she stopped and leaned forward - more liquid covered her hind legs, and light thuds came from behind. One time, her body stopped for good, moving again only after a minute, dripping and steaming. The mare’s head moved to look down, and her eyes stared through another pigeonhead’s eyeholes. The changeling underneath her moved erratically, as if skipping a few seconds ahead, and with each skip, their face was mutilated more and more. A green flickering light overtook it, turning the hollows into dim green eyes with slit irises, into which some of the congested ooze from her face drooped. The eyes sunk inside the melting maw. Ditzy’s head turned to where the fine stone alley broke off into a paved road with stunty shops and apartment complexes, covered in neon lights, glowing under the featureless bright moon. Her body trudged there, while many more of the pigeonheads stared at her from the tops of those buildings. They landed in front of her on the road. The mare’s body and wings spasmed. She then stood where they used to, her wings spread wide, broken changeling bodies all around her. A few more came into view slightly in front of her, frozen still mid-gallop, but with each step her body took, one of them dropped on the ground, melting and leaking green out of whichever body parts were mutilated or outright missing. Inside the shops and houses, however, groups of equine shapes began to move. They walked out onto the road one by one. Her static yellow eyes met many identical pairs of eyes as they glared at her. A dozen grey blonde pegasi moved toward Ditzy, to which her body convulsed once again, and her head rose sharply, ears perking up. Her body catapulted itself into the wide mass of grey mares, stomping on one of them with its hind hooves. Her forelegs spun around, knocking down three more. A metal chain that one of them had wrapped around their forehoof was swiftly unwound and ended up on the mare’s own. The remaining ones gathered around her, most of them forced back by gusts of air created by her wings, which avoided blows from the many spiked wooden bars, mounted batons, strapped knives and pipes, as their owner hopped and thrashed around violently. One of the grey pegasi leaned in for a strike, and her neck twisted from the heavy impact of the swinging chain. Two more had their forelegs crack as the metal continued to twist and arc around at the disparate thrashing of the pony in the middle. Ditzy’s body jolted and squirmed, angling the chain at more and more of the remaining mares. Fragments of fabric of differing colors flew around as the metal continued to leave bloody, mangled tracks on the bodies of the mares. Droplets entered her silently open mouth as the weapon collided with another’s snout, and further spatters caused her motionless eyes to finally blink. She arched her back as her eyes opened back up, the right one pulling back, twitching. Her mouth shut with a loud clack. A score of broken bodies lay around her, and one last equine was pushing itself along the road to get away. Ditzy’s good eye darted around, then fixated on a pair of shapes far down the road. A tall, misshapen dark figure with oblong wings and a stumpy horn, and a purple unicorn filly holding its foreleg. The assymetrical row of teeth on the dark figure’s snout reflected on all the glossed windows around her. The mare’s bad eye threw itself around before getting itself back in the middle. She plunged her hooves in the back of the one that crawled away, emitting a sharp, quiet gurgle as her mouth opened wide again. She ran forward, leaving behind green hoofprints. Her head lowered itself to ram the dark shape. Ditzy’s body flew straight through a door and smashed into another grey mare, pinning her to the wall. The pegasus twisted around, and another mare fell down in a splatter of red, head colliding with the restroom sink. Ditzy’s hind leg stomped violently on the floor, creating a wide hole in the head of the first mare. At the other end of the blandly lit, spacious restroom, three more of the mares were backing toward the walls, pairs of yellow eyes staring at Ditzy while her good one stared through them. Her wings propelled her body toward one, carrying her into a cabin, and with a single thrust of her forelegs, she cracked the pegasus’ head against the toilet. The other two, nearly at the exit, fell over as she caught up to them in the same manner. Her hind leg tore through one’s neck bones, and the other was caught before she could get back up. Ditzy bit into the mare’s ear and pulled her toward the row of sinks and mirrors, brought her up, and then launched her face-first into the mirror multiple times. The mare fell over limply, and Ditzy looked at an intact mirror. A young grey pegasus mare with a long blonde fringe stood, holding a young light purple unicorn filly to her side with a hoof. Ditzy leaned in, smudging the liquid on her snout against the mirror, breath from her still-open mouth covering a part of it. The pair backed off for a few steps, until abruptly appearing on the floor, with a ragged, shorter-maned, blood and synapse-stained mare smashing herself into the floor. The unicorn stood to the side, looking at Ditzy through the eyeholes of the half-piece phoenix mask. Ditzy got up from the body and left the restroom, her bad eye twitching to stare at the mare that mashed her face against the mirror. She disappeared once the door swung open. Her path went through a small yard connecting a series of tiny, rural houses. The mare froze, staring at the playground in the middle of it. A single, incoherent, flickering tiny body lay on the bright yellow sand, patches of which were red. Her neck twisted violently, and she appeared in front of the body. Dinky sat huddled in the corner of the sandbox, hugging herself, eyes enormously wide, all covered in splatters of blood. The mare kept looking at the filly while her hooves pummeled the small shape in the middle. Her body turned around on its own and wrestled three equines that had ran up to the scene down to the ground. She crushed their faces, tore one’s jaws open, and bit through the last one’s neck. Her eyes were set directly on the huddled, shaking filly, who stared back - along with a multitude of blurred, backpedaling equine shapes of various sizes in the distance behind her. She got up and released a stream of liquid on the ground, which trailed as she walked off, wobbling. Her eyes both rolled back once the filly was out of her line of sight, and reset to be fixed in the middle once she opened them again. Ditzy cantered up a rising, curving, cobbled street covered in bird corpses, occasionally running herself into more of the mares, who disappeared as soon as their bodies hit the walls, or the pavement. The pegasus continued up the curving street in the shade of the many balconies above, while thunder crackled in the distance. A pigeon head awaited her around another curve, but fell over when a flower pot landed on their head. Ditzy’s forehoof quickly turned their face into green mush. Further down the road stood two more ponies, behind whom rose a blinding, scorching orange sun. Her eyes stayed open as she walked up to them and tore the mare off the ground, grabbing her by the neck and getting in the air. She spun around and rushed downward, throwing the pale, uncombed, sweating mare with large bags under her bloodshot yellow eyes at the cobbled pavement, following up with her own hind hoof that crushed her chest, tearing through a stained apron. Ditzy looked to the side, and saw the other figure dead already, nearly invisible in the light of the rising sun. Their masculine features oozed green after her forehooves bashed against their body a few times. She threw herself down the sheer drop at the end of the climbing street, gliding up to meet the rising sun. Her wings folded, and Ditzy had to take the landing on her hooves. They crashed hard into the wet sand, forcing the wings to spread so she could right herself. They remained clamped to her sides. Her good eye looked to the far end of the barren beach. She headed for a wooden hut and a pier with a boat. The tide came washing in, but the water barely smeared the stains on her legs a little. There was a body on the pier, a slowly melting changeling, the back of its head crushed in, glowing green. She tore into the strands of clumped up seaweed green mane and turned the body over, staring into the distorted, asymmetrical maw. A bright orange light swept over from the far shore, and the mare’s raised forehooves came crashing down on a pigeonhead’s motionless visage. She looked around and spotted more of them, standing still in the wide, tall hall, casting shadows on the orange walls. The paint on them peeled away more with each step she took as the fire spread further. The changelings melted in the flame, and the mare twitched and squirmed. They mimicked her motions. One remained at the entrance to a long, dark corridor. Ditzy blinked with her good eye, looking at the figure’s pinkish orange dove head. The dove thrust a wing forward and pierced the mare’s chest with a curved blade. She looked around, finding even more of them, standing still in the wide, tall hall, casting shadows on the orange walls. The paint on them peeled more with each of her steps, as the fire spread further. The changelings melted in the flame, twitching and squirming, while the mare rushed directly at the dove at the far end. She skidded to a halt, head passing under a thrusted wing, and tumbled the dove over into the fire. Her hind legs broke the postal pony’s own, and she sped down the corridor. She stepped over dismembered, scorched, punctured, steaming bodies. The walls got narrower with each pile. Ditzy only emerged out the other end after her wings had been touching the padded surfaces for a number of seconds. She looked around, the dove mask on her face wobbling, as parts of it had stuck to the liquids that covered her snout. A large red carpet led down a hallway lined with large pictures of nature. She followed it, stomping on slowly melting bodies of changelings. Having gotten to the end, the mare pressed her masked head against the heavy door, squinting her good eye to look into a narrow opening. The door swung open and she went for the hunched over griffon inside, a grey pigeon with an orange beak and yellow eyes. The blades in her wings pierced through it, and she bashed the avian’s head against his own desk until the eyes were gone. Ditzy inhaled and exhaled, puffing through her mask, each breath bringing her several meters forward, back down the carpeted hallway. Bodies of changelings and splashes of red covered the floor. Her advance stopped halfway up a stairway, coming across a grey pegasus mare with a twitching, defunct, rolled up eye, a short blonde fringe, and sharp wrinkles at the sides of her snout and by her nose. She pointed a flickering, rectangular object at Ditzy. Her jaw shook and she tried to jab the leg-strapped object forward, which let out electric sparks with each attempted swing, but Ditzy made slow steps toward her, and was bashing her head into the floor soon enough. She rose from the mare’s body and swung forward, by a pool table, evading two loud shots. Her wings jabbed to the sides, resulting in two meaty slices. The mare turned around sharply and stared at a group of pigeon griffons that had gathered behind her. Another quick twist saw her hind legs meet one griffon as it rushed ahead of the rest, talons reaching out. She broke their arm and twisted the neck before she ducked and slipped ahead to dodge the stab of another, quickly rebounding to plunge a knife into their side and kick it in with a hoof. The last one was crouching far back, by the stairs, over where the mare’s body used to be, clenching a sharp, thin stiletto in its talons. Neither the dove nor the pigeon moved. Finally, the dove took a few steps forward, prompting the pigeon to dart forward along the wall. The griffon’s wing stretched out to smash into the pegasus’ neck, but she raised her forehooves a moment before impact, tumbling the pigeon over. The same forehooves sunk into its neck, emitting a crunchy, wet noise. Ditzy turned around and continued through the building, walking into an empty room full of chairs. The sun shone brightly beyond a rickety window. She broke through it and plummeted several stories down. A series of dull pops rang out as she flew. The mare landed on the carpet of a hallway, right in front of another pony, and she stood still. She took a step toward the mare, hanging her head. “...fucking monster! I’m done! I’m fucking done!” the mare yelled in a badly distorted, low, masculine voice, sobbing. “Do it. Fucking do it! I know you want to. Come on, you've made your point. If I'm the same species as you, I don't even wanna be here anymore!” Ditzy’s head nodded repeatedly, and her hind legs kicked sporadically. “What?” she screamed. “What the FUCK are you waiting for?! What, did it occur to you that I’m a fucking pony, huh? Not fun to make up excuses for why you’re doing this shit anymore? What, it ain't so simple now, huh? Figured out that we didn't start doing this just 'cause we felt like it, unlike you crazy fucks?! Or are you just thinking how to kill me creatively, you cunt? What have you got on your flanks, a fucking skull?” The mare’s foreleg rose, pressing a strapped gun to her lower jaw. Her leg twitched and a soft click rang out. She began to laugh through her tears. “Or… or do you have anything there at all?” Ditzy stood face to face with the mare in the blue hoodie, who leaked a stream of tears onto the floor of her apartment. Small drops started to roll out the neck of the mask. Thunder rang out and a bright flash consumed the area. She pounced the mare and twisted her neck in an awkward, stiff motion. Afterwards, she collapsed on top of the corpse of the white stallion with a messy, electric-blue mane, and a stump on top of his head. Lightning flashed through the broken windows of the abandoned, dusty, dim-lit mall. Ditzy’s body jerked. Her loud, raspy breathing echoed throughout the large empty space. Her and the unicorn lay near the railing, the ice rink below. Directly behind her were the doors she had been led through. A blue body in a plain white shirt lay nearby. Next to it, a pair of mutilated ponies in shredded pink palmtree shirts. Several changelings were slowly melting on the ground, the most intact ones flickering in and out of the visage with the mask of the pigeon. Overhead, on the fourth floor, the windows of the shop that overlooked the entrance were broken through. Off the very edge hung off the slowly dissipating remains of an avian changeling. Ditzy blinked, shuddering. She had to raise a jittering forehoof to force her bad eye to blink as well. Its pupil nearly disappeared in the back of her head. The pegasus began to slowly get up, forcing her wings to fold. Lightning flashed a few more times, and the strengthening wind cast a sparse stream of raindrops on her blood and green-stained coat from the broken windows. The mare took a few steps to the side, there where the rain was stronger. Water gathered on her coat, running down in lines of mixed color. She turned her head to her wing and then covered her face up with a forehoof. Ditzy left the showering stream and walked stiffly to a nearby corpse, a mare in tattered silver, whose hooves still clung to the bloody mush that her throat had become. The pegasus leaned and pulled the lengthy switchblade attached to a bracer on one of the mare’s hooves out of its slot. She then raised her foreleg and slid the blade from the shoulder to the ulna. Her good eye darted from patch of blood to patch of green to where the two mixed, only rarely finding parts of her coat that remained fully grey. As the mare looked at the cut, a loud knocking noise sounded out from behind. She continued to stare at the line, blinking occasionally. The sound slowly got closer, eventually joined by quiet huffing. A short, croaky fit of coughing with laughter mixed in echoed throughout the building. Ditzy continued to look at the thin, rare streaks of water slowly dripping down her foreleg as the albatross next to her spoke up: “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” he asked, looking around the demolished mall. “Where you go, what you do, and why you do it.” The mare put her foreleg down and rubbed the cut with the other one. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, the bad one struggling against the descending eyelid. “You knew, didn’t you? You hide a lot. But that’s not what this is all about, is it?” Ditzy opened her eyes and immediately closed them back, seeing the wide row of teeth stare her right in the eyes. The switchblade clinked against the floor. “This feels right, doesn’t it? That’s what you do. You’re a very special one.” The albatross’ cane scratched on the dusty tiles. Sirens sounded in the distance. “Quite a nasty piece of work you’ve managed over there. I am impressed. Ponykind… as it seems… has limitless potential.” The mare turned around and began to walk toward the doors. She stiffened up when a set of talons landed on her shoulder, softly. “You’ve proved yourself a decisive mare. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble deciding what to do,” the old albatross said, grinning as Ditzy’s eye finally turned to him. The burned side of his mouth twitched, which he covered up with a talon. Before she could move again, the cane struck the dusty floor, producing a lightning flash and a deafening crack of thunder. A small piece of tile hit the mare’s chest, while the clawed hand left her shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked at the front door of her apartment, surrounded by graffiti. Painted on top of it was an orange circle containing a heart, a star and a crescent moon. “As I think you’ve elaborated to this… unfortunate stallion,” the albatross said. He stood off to the side of the rippling image, leaning on his cane with one hand and pointing at the hooded, hornless unicorn with another. “There is not much one can ask of you. But I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. You have had a stellar run so far.” The albatross made a courteous nod and bowed to her. As her head, limbs, and eyes twisted and convulsed harshly, she saw, with her bulging eyes, his shape be thrown into the dim corners of the abandoned mall. The next moment, the mare fell headfirst into her own door, sliding down with a long sigh. Her snout hit a small package, stamped with the same symbol that was on her door, only in red. Ditzy hurled a ball of spit off to the side and got herself up, clicking the lock of the door open. She kicked the package in without looking at it, missing the box a few times, and tumbled into the shower room as soon as the door was locked again. *** ...would rather not put myself in this situation, but this must be understood. Nothing has been done to address this, even though we know about it. Instead, measures are taken to pretend things are fine, or that the problem lies elsewhere. Simply put, our unity is a dream, a very bad dream. It does not work. The statistics that I saw buried month after month are terrifying. It was bad during the war, for obvious reasons, but after it? Don't you remember what we had to do to the drones, just so they could live among us? - So you are against Pact citizens having an identity?.. … …a lie. There have been lots of lies, and in hindsight, I don’t understand how any of us could have been so complacent. Many of us remember the events of the War and what it did to us - while time has passed, we simply have not mended. And considering the sheer implications of what I’ve found out, we likely never will. There is a conspiracy, the root of which I cannot discern, but there are ponies among us that are dauntless murderers. Nearly every gang crime and at least one third of the ES/AS attacks that have been reported this year are the work of this group. - What would this group be called? Where do they operate from? What are their goals? - There seem to be many methods, and their goals are obscure. They operate discreetly, but I've had time to trace some leads. “Equestria Delivery”, a recently founded package delivery service, is… ... ...if all this is true, how is it physically possible that a small group of ponies could do these things? Doesn’t this seem more likely to be the work of ES/AS? As you have been saying, organized crime in this city can’t be expected to simply roll over and die at the sight of a masked maniac. - Mr. Wings, that is the thing I have been talking about this entire time. This IS what is happening, and that is a massive problem, one that needs counter-measures, solutions. We don't need to play blame games. Don't blame Princess Twilight for using what remained of the Crystal Empire to defend our country during the years of the war, don't blame the High Council for establishing the ES/AS, don't blame the decreasing potency of our sun and moon. In fact, even I can't blame her for putting her hoof down and ordering that Equestria and all therein unite together, or for the measures that were taken to try and make that a reality. The fact is what it is - some of us have lost our special talents. Their cutie marks now shine when they sow entropy, chaos, disorder, death; when they unmake Equestria's very core. I do not know what caused this, but there are individuals among us that, at their core, are hard to consider ponies. They themselves feel that way deep down inside, I can tell you that. All of us have had our talents detected and sustained by our cutie marks. Now, however... Now some of them simply don't function. Now they channel death. We are a broken people. … ...solution? Can we have any names of those murderers, anything to help stop these sprees? - This will never work, I’m afraid. The Wedding War has shown us how well paranoia and lynching solve issues - they do not. There is only thing that came to my mind as I researched all this and connected the dots. Either us or the changelings have to go, and quick. Them and us are physically and mentally incompatible, no matter how hard we try to pretend otherwise. Both sides have failed in their attempts to communicate. Now we are losing our minds, and the changelings may well be losing their patience. - What do you mean? - As I said before, I can’t be sure. “Equestria Delivery” is merely a single tendril of this massive, sprawling conspiracy. In fact, it’s massive enough that I’m not sure in whose favor it is designed to work, or whether it’s a singular plan at all. There is little more for me to say, aside from one last thing. I was there in 1004 when the changeling resurgence read by the surviving Proxies was beaten. Later, I was at San Fran. I have personally seen how changelings turn feral, and what mere drones can do, let alone synaptics. I've seen Centurions created by seemingly inert, mindless hives. The changelings are more than we assume. And while that was an unparallelled aberration… back then, I had the same gut feeling I do now. I suggest that citizens of Carol City should evacuate, as soon and as far away as they can. 101 Ocean View Street, “Mended Moods” - 4:50 PM The mare opened the wooden door, halting for a second as she entered. She rubbed her eyes and brushed back her uncombed, short mane, after which she made her way to the counter and examined the menu for a few minutes. The bartender, a bearded, vanilla-coated unicorn stallion with a long, red mane, bound in a bun on the back of his head, glanced at her with his green eyes, to which she lowered her head. The mare pointed her hoof at multiple items in the menu and went off to find a seat. Her good eye lingered on the elderly stallion in an expensive suit, who sat on one of the stools. The suit went over a badly damaged body, with some of the limbs missing, the lower jaw hanging off, one of the eyes overflowing with blood. The old earth pony grasped a drink, pouring it into his wide open mouth. He hacked and wheezed, pushing a wad of Equestrian bills to a thin, bruised brown earth pony stallion, who sat on a stool to the other side of the bar stand, looking into an empty glass. The unkempt pony shook, accidentally knocking the glass off the table, and looked at the mare together with the old, mangled stallion. A motion of air made some of the bills fly off onto the floor. A low, raspy chuckle left the elderly stallion's throat as Ditzy stared back, slowly walking away. She went past multiple occupied booths and tables. A group of ponies in white and blue were cheering as a similarly dressed synaptic changeling downed an entire bottle in one go. A blue unicorn shuddered as a black bead next to his ear buzzed loudly, and he pressed down on it with a hoof, laughing. Another group, three brown ponies in unbuttoned palmtree shirts and a pink one in a brown suit glared at the severe rainfall outside. A brown mare, who cupped her face in her hooves, stared at Ditzy as she walked past, mumbling something in a foreign language. At the next table, a group of mares and stallions with short manes, scarred faces and small metal tags hanging off their necks sat staring into their drinks. A couple of bodies in trashed, black and grey hoodies and leather lay under the table, unmoving. One of the silver-clad stallions sat at the table next to them kept his narrow-slit eyes on them, while the rest were examining the contents of a briefcase, opened with its back to the rest of the bar. The quiet, slow music blended in with the noise of the patrons and the drumming of the rain. A fuzzy broadcast came from the radio speaker by the stand. She found herself a seat in the far corner of the bar, where the windows faced the tumultuous ocean. Ditzy tucked herself into the corner, leaning her head against the cool glass. Some seats ahead of her, she could see two blonde, green-coated ponies. They were a unicorn and an earth mare, talking to one another, painting a sign on a large piece of paper that took up their entire table. The mare hung her head when her eyes met those of a figure in the far corner of the bar, only the bloodshot, greenish eyes visible in the dark. She sat there, breathing in sync with the waves of rain pattering against the window, until the sound of hoofsteps made her raise her head. Ditzy opened her good eye and watched as an orange earth stallion with short, faded, yellow hair sat opposite her. He pulled a wallet out of a pocket of his brown varsity jacket, passing several bills to a tall, slender changeling waiter, who cantered off after giving the mare a brief glance. The stallion pushed a tray with multiple bottles and a single sandwich toward Ditzy. He kept a single glass to himself. Ditzy grasped one of the bottles, opened it with her mouth, waited for the fumes and bubbles to fizzle out, and poured his glass full first, followed by her own. The mare downed the liquid in one go, arching her back before leaning into the seat. “Everything has become so clear, has it?” She shut her eye and took a deep breath before pouring two more glasses and downing hers. “We had a good dream, didn’t we?” The stallion coughed and rubbed his throat. After another glass, the mare took a bite of the sandwich, wincing at the fizzling and steaming inside her throat. “It’s all going to be fine,” she heard. “It’s not as scary as it seems.” "Soon this will all be over."