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I.1,332 words
II.1,402 words
III.2,296 words

III.

The next morning, Corvus awoke to a storm of knocking on his door.

“Mmf? Go away,” he muttered to his pillow.

Whoever his visitor was, they were persistent. Corvus endured a minute of knocking before admitting defeat and going downstairs. He peeked out the little window to the side of the door, and at the fellow standing outside.

It was not someone he wanted to see.

“Corvus! You’re up,” Sicarius said, his voice muffled by the glass. He tilted his head at the door.

“Come on, open the door.”

Reluctantly, Corvus did as he was told.

“You look pretty tired,” Sicarius commented as he strode in. The door slammed behind him.

“I did just wake up,” Corvus said, a tone of wariness in his voice.

Sicarius nodded. “I understand. Rough night yesterday?”

Corvus lost it.

“Please, Sicarius, it wasn’t my fault,” he pleaded. “The pony had one of those new locks, the electric locks, and I couldn’t get past it, and then the pony woke up and was going to see me so I had to run!”

Sicarius didn’t say anything. The silence only served to amplify Corvus’s dread.

“Let me try again tonight,” Corvus offered. “I’ll finish the job, honest.”

Sicarius frowned.

“I’m sorry, Corvus, I really am. But it’s Queen Evora’s decision, not mine. And…well…she’s decided to ‘let you go’.”

Corvus’s stomach dropped. At the same time, he felt a growing sense of anger bubble up inside him. It was an odd experience, to be both angry and scared at the same time.

“Oh? You mean ‘evicted’?” he spat. “Kicked out of the Hive? Forced to leave everyone and everything I know behind?”

Sicarius had evidently prepared for this.

“Like I said, it’s not my call. I’m just the messenger,” he replied. “You’ve made too many errors, in Queen Evora’s opinion.”

“And what about your opinion?” Corvus challenged.

“My opinion?”

“Your opinion,” Corvus repeated. “Do you think I should be evicted? Hm?”

Sicarius didn’t answer his question.

“I have to go,” he said. Sicarius started for the door. Before he left, the other changeling uttered one last order.

“Don’t try to contact me, or Acrisius, or the Queen. As far as her orders are concerned, you’re just another outsider now. And don’t try to return to the Hive.”

With that, Sicarius turned his back to Corvus, and walked out of the house.

Corvus didn’t move. He simply watched the retreating figure of Sicarius, fighting the urge to run after and plead with him – or perhaps punch him.

He shut the door and slowly sank into his sofa, half-oblivious to what he was doing. The severity of the situation was just beginning to register.

No contact. No Hive. No home. Among the ranks of the Hive, he didn’t even exist anymore. Corvus had heard stories about evicted changelings, but never did he think he would someday become one of them.

What was he going to do? Could he join another hive? It was possible, but from what Corvus had been told, it came with its fair share of obstacles. You needed the other hive’s queen’s approval to switch, and once you did, there was no going back to your old hive.

I suppose I don’t have to worry about that last part, Corvus thought to himself mirthlessly.

But there was more to deal with besides the queen. A few changelings of Corvus’s Hive had originally come from others, and Corvus had seen how they were treated. Exclusion – quiet in some places, blatantly obvious in others – greeted them at every turn. Suspicion, too, if they had been evicted from their former hive. Evicted like Corvus.

Corvus stamped his hoof. He didn’t like the idea of joining another hive, but his only other options were to somehow reverse his eviction or – Queen forbid – continue living among the ponies on his own.

A sharp rapping from outside interrupted Corvus’s thoughts. He looked up, confused. Had Sicarius come back? Or was it another changeling – Acrisius, perhaps?

Corvus got up and reluctantly marched over to the door. He flung it open.

It was not Sicarius at the door. Nor was it Acrisius, or even Queen Evora. No, it was a black pony with a blue mane – the same pony that Corvus had seen yesterday at the market.

Behind the stallion stood two more ponies, their faces stoic. The black pony flashed something at Corvus’s face. It was a silver badge with the word ‘Detective’ stamped on it.

“Mr. Corbin? You’re under arrest.”

The interrogation room was something straight out of the past. Everything was made of wood – the long table that stood in the center of the room, the two chairs accompanying it, the three walls that didn’t have a window installed in them. Two potted plants flanked the doorway. It all gleamed under the single light bulb that hung from the ceiling.

Corvus cared for none of it. He had been sitting in one of the chairs for over an hour now, waiting for…whatever was going to come. The police hadn’t hoof-chained him, much to his surprise, though he did suppose locking the door easily made up for it. That, and one officer watching him from the hallway.

The changeling watched as said officer turned his head to the side and began talking to someone. Corvus couldn’t see who it was. The officer paused, said something else, and then moved towards the door.

The handle of the door rattled as it was unlocked. As it swung open, Corvus’s ears picked up a bit of the ponies’ conversation.

“…word back once I’m done here, alright? Great. Thanks again.”

The pony who walked in looked vaguely familiar to Corvus. It was another stallion, but this fellow was solid white with a blond mane. He looked like a photo negative of the detective who had arrested Corvus.

He brushed past the changeling and walked over to the chair at the other end of the table. The chair scraped on the floor as the pony pulled it back. He sat down.

Silence filled the air.

The pony stared at Corvus, his hoof lightly tapping the table. Corvus guessed that he was waiting for him to say something. Well, he wasn’t going to give the pony the pleasure of seeing that.

More tapping followed. The pony straightened up in his chair and leaned forward towards Corvus. His forelegs formed a diamond in front of him.

“Mr. Corbin, we both know well and clear why you’re here today. So let’s not waste any time, shall we?” the pony began.

“No, actually, I don’t,” Corvus replied. He injected a tone of anger into his voice. “How dare you and the other officers drag me out of my home and bring me here? Where’s your arrest warrant?”

“First, I am one of Her Majesty’s Royal Guards, not a police officer,” the pony shot back. “Second, suspected enemies of the state can be detained at any time, according to the Changeling Interception Act."

“Changeling Interception –”

“Your name is not Corbin,” the Guard interrupted. “Your true identity is Corvus, a changeling who is responsible for committing three assaults on citizens of Equestria. Last night, at nine fifty-four, you also attempted an assault on the pony of 6 Sunset Street. Correct so far?”

Corvus was too stunned to react. It was as if the pony had gone into his brain and read out loud all the secrets he kept in there.

He quickly recomposed himself.

“That’s outrageous,” he protested. “Who told you this? Somepony must be trying to slander me!”

The pony ignored Corvus. “You are also accompanied by a ‘Queen Evora’ and at least two other changelings, whose identities we are still working to find out. But we do know that they are responsible for the string of changeling-induced deaths that have popped up in the last month.”

He leaned back in his chair, observing Corvus, his hoof tapping away once again. Corvus refused to say anything.

Tap tap tap.

Corvus glanced at the door to his left. He could make a break for it. Would he be able to get through the door in time?

Tap tap tap.

No, the officer at the window was still there.

Tap tap tap.

The Guard leaned forward once again.

“Mr. Corvus, I know you want to keep denying these claims all the way to the noose. I know trying to get a proper confession out of you will be a waste of time. So instead, I will offer you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“More of a, shall we say, mutually beneficial arrangement. It’s very simple. All you have to do is give us the names of two residents of this town. We will then investigate them thoroughly. If they turn out to be the remaining two changelings, you will be cleared of all charges and released. If not, well, it’ll be the noose for you. I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Corvus slowly took in what the pony was saying.

“So…I have to give you two changelings, in order to be released?”

The Guard nodded. “Correct.”

Corvus grasped his head with his forehooves. His brain hurt. Too much had been revealed in the past ten minutes.

The Guard stood up and began walking towards the door.

“I won’t pressure you. You have until tonight to make up your mind. That gives you about –” he looked at the clock, “– six hours.”

He set his hoof on the handle, about to leave, but paused and turned his head towards Corvus.

“Oh, and you might want to get better blinds for your windows.”

With that, the Guard left, leaving Corvus to himself – and the burning embarrassment he felt.

Two hours later, Corvus paced his cell for the hundredth time. He didn’t notice, nor did he care. His mind was a storm of thought.

Sicarius was right. As much as Corvus hated to admit it, Sicarius had been right. In the end, he had been caught by the ponies after all!

Corvus seethed, imagining the smug looks Sicarius and the others would be giving him right now. He could hear their taunts and jabs, the mocking choruses of “Told you so!”

He plopped down on the cell’s bunk, a hoof furiously scratching the side of his head.

And, of course, there was the fact that they had evicted him, kicked him out of the Hive. He couldn’t even go back south to the Hive itself, lest Queen Evora had already sent word about his eviction. He had been simply discarded, like a piece of refuse.

The more he thought about it, the more Corvus’s anger grew. Why had he been evicted? Because he had failed to kill the pony in 6 Sunset Street. But did they care about the truth? Did they care that he couldn’t get through the lock? Did they care that he had tried? No, no, and no. All they saw was that he hadn’t met their standards. That was all they cared about.

He hadn’t even wanted to kill the random pony. He had said that from the start. The others – being the cold-blooded killers they were – didn’t care who they murdered. But Corvus did. And what did he get for it? Nothing but contempt at every turn.

“You think you can throw me away like trash, Evora?” Corvus growled to himself. “I’ll show you, and that smug Sicarius, and even Acrisius.”

He stormed over to the iron bars of the cell.

“Hey! Officer! Get that Royal Guard in here!” he shouted, pounding the bars with one hoof. “I’ve made up my mind!”

The door to the cell block opened and the gray head of a pony popped into view.

“All right, calm down there,” he ordered. “I’ll get the Guard right now.”

The officer disappeared for a minute, and then came back with the Guard in tow. The white stallion looked at Corvus calmly.

“You’ve made your decision?”

“Yes, I have,” Corvus said. “The deal sounds good. I’ll take it.”

“Excellent.” The Guard took out a pad of paper and a pencil. He slid them through the cell’s bars towards Corvus.

“One of them goes by Sickle,” Corvus said, scrawling the name out on the paper. He barely realized what he was doing. “His real name is Sicarius. The other one, Acrisius, goes by Argos. Both live in Lunar Heights, Sicarius at 241, Acrisius at 425.”

He finished writing and shoved the paper and pencil towards the Guard. The pony read it over, silently mouthing the words as he did.

“This looks promising,” the Guard said. He nodded at Corvus. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Then he began walking away, the officer behind him.

“Wait!” Corvus cried after him. “Aren’t I free now?”

The Guard looked back at him.

“I said you’ll be released after we thoroughly investigate these two suspects,” the Guard said. “Until then, think about what you’ve just done.”

The two ponies disappeared from sight, the door to the cell block slamming shut behind them. The sound was dreadfully final.

Corvus sagged to the ground, his anger spent.

Think about what you’ve just done…

Without the red haze of anger, he realized it: nothing had changed for him. Nothing! He was still evicted, still alienated, still alone.

Except he now had the burden of knowing that he had sold out two changelings for petty revenge.

"What was I thinking?” he whispered.