What is a pony? A dreadful little pile of secrets...
Years after the events of the second changeling invasion of Canterlot, under the reign of Princess Twilight Sparkle, an earth pony detective stumbles into the web of secrets and lies surrounding surroundingEquestria's last, worst defense against the unknown...
“Fetlock Skry,” a brusque, no nonsense, deep brown lunar guard captain led a pale tan earth pony stallion down a narrow stone hallway, “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Yes, Captain Shadow,” the stallion nodded thoughtfully, “I have to admit I was intrigued. I’ve worked with the Warlocks as a consulting detective on more than a few cases, and this is hardly the first time I’ve been offered a more permanent position.”
“And you’ve turned down every offer,” The captain came to an abrupt halt and flashed the detective a predatory smile, “And yet here you are. Do you mind if I ask why?”
“Simply put, yours was the first offer not to lay all the cards on the table,” the stallion returned the nocturnal mare's smile with a sly grin and replied, “And I do love a good mystery. A ‘position of leadership’, but with no offered rank, no mention of the unit’s name, and most telling, ‘directly accountable to Advisory Princess Luna’.”
“And this tells you what Mr. Skry?” The captain ruffled her leathery wings.
“Not as much a the fact that we are walking towards not the barracks but the dungeons to presumably meet my would be unit of irregulars,” the stallion replied easily, “There is no rank, because how could there be an official rank in a unit that does not officially exist? A unit of barely restrained, much less reformed criminals. One of Equestria’s worst kept secrets, I believe the tabloids refer to them as ‘The Pony Dreadfuls’. It makes sense that they would Fall under Her Highness Luna’s sphere of influence, given the recent restructuring. And her Highness needs somepony to hold their leash. I would ask if I was correct, but we are both aware that it would simply be a formality.”
“What do you know about The Dreadfuls?” Captain Shadow inquired.
“Less than I would like,” the detective admitted. “I know the Royal Canterlot Pest Control Division, or RCPCD is an even less public offshoot of SMILE. They handle situations deemed too dangerous for the Royal Guard, and too distasteful or potentially corrupting for the Warlocks. I know they are composed largely of unsavory sorts and outright criminals. And I know they were formed in response to certain events surrounding the second changeling invasion that the crown would prefer the little ponies just forgot about.”
“We’ve taken a less than active role on that front,” the captain smiled coldly, “Creatures inclined to do so always look for conspiracies, but ponies forget well enough all on their own. The circus of Madame Alias was just a ruse by Queen Chrysalis leading up to the invasion, the Shadow Hive was just a rogue gang of loyalist vigilante changelings, the Unspoken Prince was just a ploy by Discord, a simple magical construct made to oppose the encroaching enemy, there was no Nopony, that was a collective ‘herd anxiety’ fear, to rationalize the scope of the catastrophe…”
“Yes,” Skrye replied with a sly grin, “The little ponies just cover it up all by themselves. It’s that strange anti-sensationalism that the noted psychoanalyst Dr. Slip called, ‘The Assumption of Harmony’. Ponies want the world to be harmonious, and when it’s not we work to make it so, retroactively if necessary. And that’s why you need the dreadfuls. You need disharmonious ponies to defend against threats that exploit harmony and friendship itself.”
“I suppose you’re going to want to meet all the little ponies you’ll be working with.” The lunar mare smirked.
“You’re not even going to ask if I’ll take the job?” The earth pony chuckled. “By all means, let us get to know these dreadful little ponies.”
-=-=-=-
“Ants are in the sugar” The vacuous cyan changeling sang to himself within the holding cell. “Muscles atrophied.”
“Celestia’s sweet sunshine!” Fetlock Skrye screamed in well founded rage. “Are you insane?!?! Why is that thing here?!?!”
“We’re on the other side,the screen is us and we’re TV.” The impossible changeling thing sang across the void.
“The warlocks have ways to recover memories from the Glimmer Effect. I’ve seen maybe a half dozen alternate timelines, Mr. Skrye.” The Captain spoke in hushed tones. “You’ve seen what? A university seminar on the possibility that those things exist? That ‘thing’ has survived repeated instances of full universal dimensional collapse. It’s a useful ‘thing’, detective. You already knew you wouldn’t be working with good ponies.”
“Tear me open, sticking to my pony ribs,” the thing that looked like a changeling sang on, suddenly looking the detective in the eye, “Are all your fillies in abortion cribs?”
The detective snarled. “I’m sure you’re aware my niece was at ground zero in the attack at Baltimare University.”
““We are living in a post-Glimmer world, detective. We are not just aware of the multiverse, the multiverse is aware of us. That ‘thing’ is our top expert on multiversal politics,” The Captain snorted in disgust, “A pony can’t make bricks without digging in the dirt. I hope this won’t be a problem, you were recommended for your professional detachment.”
“Sour Sweet… I vaguely remember hearing about her,” the degenerate changeling spoke from within his cell. “In the papers… we used one of the anons for the attack itself, and they were never fully part of the hive mind, just plague drones we exploited the Good Doctor to import for us. So I don’t actually remember your niece, per se…”
The detective glared hatred but held his tongue as the changeling’s rant continued. “A hive mind is a cruel thing, Detective. Natural changelings are lucky to have never had one. Couple it with multiversal limited infinity and it is an unimaginable existential horror. I didn’t kill your niece, Detective. I was an unwilling brain cell in the artificial eldritch abomination that killed your niece. If it makes it better, I, personally, was high as a kite the whole time.”
-=-=-=-=-
RCPCD Personnel File 1101
Iam Noone (See Related Files, “The Nopony Collective”, “Povid Virus”)
Name: Iam Noone Race: Povid Changeling Queen Projected Gender: Male (usually) Know Aliases: None, subject makes no attempt to hide his identity, even when disguised as another creature
Description: In its natural form, Iam appears as a young, adrogenous changeling queen with an unusual color pattern. It has a bright cyan chitin and a disheveled, short, and oily blue mane with a matching ill kempt and tangled tail. It occasionally takes the form of an earth pony or Mirror World human. As a pony it seems to prefer pale tones of earth and ash, while as a human it prefers to keep its changeling coloration. Oddly enough, it makes no attempt to hide its identity with these forms. Instead going out of its way to make sure evercreature knows that it is still itself (note: Possible exploitable identity issues). It seems to simply “wear” these forms the same way another creature might wear clothing.
Back Ground: Iam Noone is the reason Summoning Magic is highly regulated. It is believed to have been brought into this universe in a badly botched summoning ritual (see related file: Dr. Fetlock) against its will and amalgamated into the so-called “Nopony Collective”. The collective itself consisted of a near infinity of humans who had become displaced in Equestrian timelines, only to be forced into a state of pseudo-non-existence, collectively occupying the same space within our universe. Very little is known of its human universe of origin, except that it was not a “mirror universe”, and it was a patient in a psychiatric ward when it was originally drawn into Equestrian reality. By all accounts its time pressed into a collective mind of near infinite multiversal versions of its own consciousness has done nothing to stabilize his already fractured mind.
Unlike most of the “Nopony” aspects, Iam was seemingly transformed into his current form in itshome universe via exposure to a viral agent it refers to as Ponid-21-C. This is important to note because it is, in fact, still very contagious. While harmless to natives of Equestrian reality (who seem to be completely immune from the infection), in humans its effects are devastating and irreversible, transforming the infectee painfully over the course of two to four weeks into povid-type changelings.
While Iam was a fragment of the “Nopony Phenomenon” that manifested itself in the weeks leading up to the second changeling invasion of canterlot, it has been judged to be a less than willing participant, if more out of apathy than conscientious objection. It was at least indirectly involved in practically all of the Nopony’s terrorist actions,culminating in the bombing of Baltimare University. The collective kept Iam too full of drugs to ask any real questions while exploiting its unique space time displacement to be, or not be anywhere that was to the advantage of the collective
Iam is fundamentally disconnected from physical reality. It both exists and does not exist at any given point at any given time. It is currently contained by the most intensive experimental spell-work to come out of the Glimmer Project. Within its holding cell Iam is forced to only exist in a single instance of space and time without exception. In the instance that it becomes necessary to deploy Iam in the field, it is paramount that all available temporal anchoring restraints be employed and tight control maintained, as it is a high-flight-risk,and if it escaped would be nigh impossible to recapture.
-=-=-=-=-
“One condition,” Skry turned his back on the mad changeling, “if I do this, the crown doesn’t get to keep their dirty little secrets anymore, not from me. I want access to every dreadful little file, on every dreadful little pony.”
“Done.” The Lunar captain’s smile came all too easy.
“Well,” Fetlock Skry sighed heavily, “at least I can say I’ve already met the worst of the lot…”
“The most hated, maybe,” Captain Shadow muttered darkly, “I hate to break it to you, but Iam Noone was actually one of the less malevolent of the Nopony fragments. Without the collective he’s… well actually he’s a drug dealing sleaze-ball, but there are worse. Much worse. Luckily this little ray of sunshine isn’t one of them. Hey, Dust! Time to meet your new boss!”
The pair approached a spacious, comfortably furnished cell housing a mint-green pegasus mare with a golden mane and tail who didn’t bother to stop doing wing-pushups as she responded, “I need more access to flight space. Having the best flier in Equestria on your team is a waste of time if you don’t give me more work out time to actually… I dunno, fly?”
“Lightning Dust, the infamous former head of the Washouts?” Fetlock raised an incredulous eyebrow. “I was not aware that the Pest Control Division was a charity organization.”
“Watch your mouth!” The mare spit in his direction.
“She’s been publicly disowned by every team she’s ever worked with.” The detective scowled with contempt. “On some level I can understand that… abomination. It’s vile, evil, completely insane, but I can see how it’s unique perspective could be… useful.”
“Lightning Dust is arguably the most talented flier in Equestria.” The Captain replied evenly.
“She is a sloppy, wreckless sociopath.” Skry countered. “She has a repeated record for recklessly endangering her teammates, ultimately resulting in the death of one Short Fuse. Her trial was a very public affair, as I remember she was turned over to the custody of Rainbow Dash at the…”
“”Buck Rainbow ‘Crash’!” Lightning snarled with sudden heated passion, “Buck that stupid nag right in the face! She left me to rot in the dungeons because she couldn't handle that there was somepony out there who could actually take her on!”
“The mare makes my case,” Fetlock replied grimmly, “How beyond redemption does one have to be before the Element of Loyalty turns her back on them?”
-=-=-=-=-
RCPCD Personnel File 1109
Lightning Dust (See Related Files, “The Washouts Incidents”)
Name: Lightning Dust Race: Pegasus
Gender: Female
Know Aliases: None (Refuses to respond to any code name or alias, limited usefulness in undercover operations)
Description: A pale minty coated mare with a two toned golden mane. In her hay-day, Dust was considered quite striking, especially if one favored athletic mares. A lifetime of cheating death has not been kind to the reckless stuntmare alas, as she is marred by scar tissue, prematurely greying fur, and a physique that can best be described as “practical”. Coupled with her antagonistic demeanor, and confrontational attitude, the visage of Lightning Dust is far more likely to inspire fear than admiration. She is not a mare one asks for an autograph,she is a mare one hopes not to meet in a lonely alley.
Back Ground: Once she was a rising star in the Wonderbolts Reserves. She was a rival to Element of Loyalty, Rainbow Dash herself. She was and remains arguably the most agile flier in Equestrian history. Her fall was a slow moving train wreck, begining with her summary dismissal and later outright ban from the wonderbolts. She is a study of the very concept of discordian virtue. A mare so devoid of Loyalty that she is an island.
Lightning Dust has betrayed everyone foolish enough to trust her. The Wonderbolts, the Washouts , Rainbow Dash said it best, she will never learn. The mare is a snake, and it is only a test of time until she bites the hand that feeds her.
-=-=-=-=-
“They’re called the Dreadfuls for a reason, Detective,” the captain shook her head, “And we don’t think we don’t keep her on a leash. She is kept in line by both the carrot of being allowed to live in the trappings and relative luxury as if she were still a beloved celebrity, as well as the heavy stick that the only way she will ever see freedom outside of the Dreadfuls would be if we clipped her wings.”
“The incident that killed Short Fuse was only the last in a long line,” the captain grimmly intoned, “Prior to that, she nearly talked a filly Rainbow Dash viewed as a little sister into an almost certainly suicidal stunt involving rockets. The filly she duped was handicapt from birth and couldn’t fly. The Element of Loyalty actually gave her one more chance after that. It was her last chance, and she wasted it. She can fly for this team, or not at all, isn’t that right, Dust?”
The mare sullenly went back to her exercises within her cell.
“This… it isn’t right!” The detective exclaimed. “No,” the captain agreed, “It isn’t. You wanted to know the truth. That is why you came here, am I correct? You wanted to see it with your own eyes?”
“I-I didn’t expect…” Detective Skye stammered…
“Did you expect the truth to be easy, detective?” The Captain smirked, “Did you expect the truth to be pleasent? Or maybe you thought you’d only be working with monsters who weren’t really just ponies?”
“They are the dreadfuls,” he heaved a sigh, “Quite right. It's not going to get better is it?”
“These are only your team, your co-workers as it were…” The Captains smiled venomously. “There’s still time to back out. Before you see the actual threat we brought them here to stop.”
“There’s a pattern here,” he deduced as he was led to his cell, “I was brought here for a reason! I’m one of them! Why?”
“No more secrets, and no more lies, Mr. Skrye,” The mare smiled as she locked the door, “You wanted to know every secret. And this is what secrets and lies cost. Welcome to the Pony Dreadfuls.”
I walked openly into this dreadful little swamp of secrets, because I had seen too much of what crawls between the shadows of Canterlot. I had already crossed too many lines before I followed the baited line to my own place in the mire. What I couldn’t yet know was how little I understood how very terrible things could become.
There is a seed of truth behind every ghost story, and from every seed of truth there grow a thousand vines of possibility. What could have been… What should never be... I know that now…
-=-=-=-=-
RCPCD Spatial Anomaly File 6673
The Rainbow Factory
Every colt and filly has heard the chilling tale of the Rainbow Factory around a flickering campfire,or within the sheltered walls of a sleep-over blanket fort. The details are as gruesome as the imagination of the foalish mind spinning the tale. It is that old weather factory that seems to be abandoned on the edge of every town.
A scant few scholars have speculated on the origin of the myth. Most concur that The Rainbow Factory myth is not a reference to a specific place, but rather to the grim realities of the industrialization of weather production. Before the weather factories, the life of pegasi families was very different than in modern equestria. By definition the pegasi were a regimented, and disciplined tribe where in every able bodied pony was required to pull their weight from a very young age, alongside their parents and siblings. Like all ponies their lives had but one purpose, the survival of ponykind, and unlike the unicorns no alicorn princess had arisen to lift this burden from them. Only the pegasi working together could master the weather on any meaningful scale.
Industrial factories would change the lives of ponies forever. It was the birth of a new age in Equestria. But it was a difficult birth and it would leave a scar. Pegasi parents happily led their colts and into the factories to work alongside them, believing it was no different from teaching them to tend natural weather… just like an earth pony taking their foals with them to tend the crops on their farm. They did not realize how wrong they were.
-=-=-=-=-
“I never understand why ponies call them rainbow factories,” Lightning Dust rolled her eyes and quipped.
“It seems rather obvious,” Detective Skrye replied dryly, “Rainbows literally pour out of them.”
“Yeah,” the stunt mare countered, “But that’s just a byproduct. Nopony calls a steel mill a ‘smoke mill’.”
“It’s true,” the shackled changeling-thing laughed through it’s muzzle, “Everyone knows a steel mill is a ‘slag factory’…”
“What the buck is slag?” the mare glared suspiciously.
The factory loomed before them, like the ruins of an ancient castle. A titanic tombstone of a time that begged and pleaded to be forgotten. It’s shadows seemed unnaturally long and cold, seeming to suck the very color from the world itself where they fell.
“So… why is it on the ground?” The thing that looked like a changeling asked absently. “Aren’t these things supposed to be wing pony things? Like, in the clouds, and all?”
“It takes a lot to build a factory in the clouds,” Dust interjected, “It takes Pegasi and Unicorns working together to make a weather factory work at all. Early on, it was easier just to build more local factories on the ground than a few mobile cloud factories. It’s why so many pegasi still live down here… what? I read things!”
“Why is there a falcon trying to mate with your mane?” Skrye turned a baffled, disgusted, and mildly horrified look to the changeling thing.
“He’s just doing a funny dance, Pfft,” the thing casually dismissed, “Trust me it’s better to not think about it and feed on the ambient love magic…”
“Gah!” Dust raged, “Do you have to make things weird every single time they let us out?”
“Hey,” the thing snapped back, “they don’t keep you under thirteen different levels of magic locks. Exploiting narrative devices for comedic effect is literally my ONLY release. Thank blessed prozation Princess Twiggly can’t analyze the fourth wall or I couldn’t have any fun at all.”
-=-=-=-=-
The details of the case were troubling. The old weather factory outside of Fillydelphia should have been demolished for scrap ages ago. Alternatively it should have been refurbished into a usable factory. At the very least it should have been the home to local homeless ponies, or the meeting place of some unsavory group. There are few things more unnatural than a truly abandoned building.
Most of the old, earth-bound weather factories had been demolished out-right. In their stead stood apartment complexes, shopping centers, or perhaps ironically, new factories. Even in those that still stood, the inner workings had been stripped for scrap, as industry hates little more than the waste of potential profit where there is profit to be made. The remaining shells were then most often converted into other things, such as the infamous Belfry nightclub in Lower Canterlot.
Most old weather factories stood like tombstones to a better-off-forgotten time. The Old Fillydelphia Weather Factory was more akin to a mummified corpes. Like all “Rainbow Factories” it had it’s own variations of the common foalish ghost stories surrounding such places. Unlike most, the kernel of truth behind its tale’s origins were very well documented...
Shadow of the Rainbow: Such Dreadful Little Ponies
“Where were you last night?” Doctor Whatserface had her most super serious face on. I am never gonna bother to learn her name.
“I was the box of matches Jimmy left in the drop plate on his way out.” I explained cheerfully, “Then I was the quarter shitty guard Joe, don’t know his name, was petty enough to pocket on his way back in. Spent a few hours as a cockroach in the staff lunch room before I made my way back to the bathrooms where you don’t have cameras. Went biped because I sometimes strangely miss urinals, and wandered out in the hall in all my glory, because honestly, I was tired of the game by then. Then Ass Breath Mc Slappy caught me, and I was here, and you asked me where I was last night… and now that you mention it I would LOVE hayfries with that. Everypony LOVES hayfries right?”
The poor earth pony filly at the cash register simply blinked. It was beautiful, and then Dust opened her mouth, “Could you NOT get us kicked out of a local hayburger joint for once?!?!”
-=-=-=-=-
He.. she… It’s the worst. It is the worst. I Hate it!
“Why do you make everything weird?!?!” It is the most honest thing I’ve ever screamed at anypony.
“I just asked for hay fries, everypony LOVES hayfries,” the words from it’s stupid face just make the face easier to punch, it just laughs at me. I hate it.
Now we’ve been kicked out of Hayburger again, and somehow it's MY fault? I punched its stupid face to STOP it from getting us kicked out of Hayburger again.
How is this MY fault?
-=-=-=-=-
The legend had a twist in this case. It was true. Pegasus fillies were given the choice to “entertain” the earth pony factory bosses or face disgrace and be pushed out and be declared “Useless and Unfit.” For those who made too much noise, the gears were always thirsty…
There were many accidents at the Fillydephia Rainbow factory. All too often they befell young female workers who made too much noise. But as the wheels of the factory were greased by the blood of the workers, the wheels of justice were greased by the money of the factory owners. Industrial accidents were a common tragedy ofthe times. If one factory saw these accidents at a slightly higher rate that silenced potential scandal… well a well paid judge would see no evidence of crime.
It was important that I maintained a clinical view of this. The crimes we were investigating were inevitably linked to crimes one hundred years in the past. The pounding in my head demanded that there were guilty, terrible ponies who escaped justice, who needed to be punished.
I fought back the dark urge… reminding myself both that it was the reason I found myself in such dreadful company, and that there was no one left alive to punish. Time had marched on. The wicked and the corrupt had lived full lives in comfort. The dark, violent voice that hid behind my intelectual facade growled angrily to “Make them pay”, when there was no one to make pay.
“Yeah, boss,” the abomination sneered, “I’d know that look in the mirror if they let me have a mirror in my cell. You wanna kill somepony. Nothing to be ashamed of…”
It’s broken laugh as I broke it’s jaw… it resonated oddly.
-=-=-=-=-
The scarred mare spoke evenly, “T..there was a… a moment… one half of a second, where I… I almost ran ahead of Sour to open the package first… i… it was supposed to be a funny prank. We k...knew it was going to blow up in our faces… b… but… I’m sorry, Mr. Skrye… it’s all my fault! We thought it was going to be a prank… i..it should have been me...”
The detective listened numbly to the hysterical filly. His niece was gone. This poor filly was scarred in body and soul for the rest of their life. Someone had to pay! Deep in his soul a dark voice boiled forth that somepony had to make them pay!
And someone had. The Little Queen of Lower Canterlot, the Canterlot Mangler. The detective had followed the stories as sparsely as they had been reported. He called in what favors he had to obtain what few case files there were before a door slammed shut, literally and metaphorically in his face. The names of the Pastel Family simply disappeared from record.
-=-=-=-=-
“Kay, pretty sure ya cracked a bone there boss man,” I smiled my best you just busted my face and I am prevented from murdering you with all the stabby smile, “I’m gonna take some drugs now for the pain. Yes they are very illegal in the universe I brought em in from. Don’t worry, you ponies haven’t learned to make ‘em illegal here yet…”
“That bet does NOT count!” Dusty Canyon snaps.
“I told you I could break him. First day in the field, “I followed *all* the rules Dusty Crotch, no pretending I was Mr. N, and no pressing buttons about his niece. I know a psychopath when I see one.”
“Fine I’ll recreate the photo shoot from the calendar,” Dusty Muff grumbles to my amusement.
“I just want the before and after pictures,” I laugh uncontrollably as the cocktail that I’m pretty sure contains cough syrup hits my bloodstream.
“We’re glad you could make it, Detective,” The guard captain's face was grim, “We’ve had another incident since we contacted Pest Control. We’re frankly stumped. Honestly when that changeling queen bought the factory we were all for it. The idea of opening a strip-tease club that sold love to unevolved changelings seemed like it would actually solve a lot of head-aches for us. Fillydelphia still has a sizeable population of independent changeling holdouts. They are largely law abiding citizens but keeping them fed can be troublesome.”
“Wait,” the changeling-thing cocked it’s head to the side, “A strip club in a factory… in Fillydelphia?”
“Then the industrial accidents started I take it?” The Detective ignored the degenerate.
“Rather impossible industrial accidents.” The captain nodded with a troubled look in his eye. “That factory hasn’t operated in over a hundred years. Those machines are more rust than metal.”
“So, just to be sure...” The degenerate changeling giggled.
“Yes! Dammit!” Dust snapped, “It’s literally a Filly Factory! Jeez, grow up already.”
“Will both of you idiots keep quiet!” Skype snapped angrily. “Please go on, Captain.”
“I don’t envy you riding heard on this lot,” The Captain chuckled, pointing at the changeling, “I was working with commander Deadlift when he brought this one in. If you could step into my office I think the Dutchess could explain the situation better herself… She prefers to refer to herself as a Dutchess rather than a queen, out of respect for pony royalty.”
As the group entered the spacious office a hole-pocked changeling queen with a deep blue mane and cyan chitin lounged langridly in a reclining chair in the corner. “Allow me to present Dutchess Anon Amiss.”
“Anon-A-Miss?” Iam questioned flattly, “You actually went with Anon-A-Miss? Madame, that is a really crappy Alias. How high were you when that seemed like a good idea?”
“I won’t be insulted by some common Nopony!” the Maddame huffed.
“Really?” The degenerate changeling thing thing sneered. “Ali… girl, it gonna be like that? You know ‘N’ was ready to hand you to the living trainwreck. I took that hit for you. I had to bribe a Lyra to turn me back into a changeling and reactivate my virus. Killing her Anon was, I’ll admit prolly a deal breaker… I’m on lock down, I kinda gotta call you out… You show up at my work and don’t even laugh back in the mirror… if I was allowed access to mirrors…”
“You were always the least of us, Noone,” The Dutchess sneered.
“He is a useful thing,” the detective snarled, “Madam Alias, the architect of the carnival incident in lower canterlot, I presume?”
“I was pardoned by King Thorax,” the Dutchess smiled coldly, “The same as all the changelings with the sense to ‘admit’ working with Chrysalis.”
“I got standards,” The degenerate growled quietly, “They might be low, but I got em…”
“Quiet,” the detective snarled at his subordinate before turning his glare back on the changeling queen, “yes, thanks to King Thorax’s ill considered pardons you are considered a law-abiding citizen. Because your little circus stunt was considered to be a part of the Mad Queen’s ‘second invasion’. What is your game here?”
“This is no game!” The queen sneered in rage, “My worker drones are being mauled by industrial equipment that hasn’t been maintained, or even powered in over a hundred years! And even if you don’t care a bit about the lives of my hive, this project, which I have fully funded with my own capital, stands to benefit both the ponies and the changelings citizens of this city. Innocent changelings, I might add, who have nothing to do with your vendetta, Detective Skrye! I AM a law abiding citizen, whether you like it or not. Moreover, I am actively working to benefit Equestria.”
“Is there going to be a problem, Detective?” The guard captain raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“There won’t be a problem,” Skrye said with a scowl, “I just wanted to make sure the Dutchess knows I am very much aware of who she is and what she’s done.”
“There is no reason for there to be a problem,” the duchess dralled, “We understand each other more than you think detective. We want to see the ones responsible pay.”
-=-=-=-=-
RCPCD Creature of Interest File 6297
Dutchess Anon Amiss (See Related Files, “The Nopony Collective”, “Povid Virus”)
Name: Dutchess Anon Amiss Race: Povid Changeling Queen Projected Gender: Female (unsually) Known Aliases: Madame Alias, Madame Nopony - Note: As with Noone, the Dutchess makes no effort to hide her identity, unlike her counterpart, however, she will take new names from time to time, seemingly for her own amusement.
Description: In her most commonly presented form, the Dutchess seems to prefer to appear as a sleek unevolved changeling queen with cyan chitin, and a dark blue mane and tail, very similar to her counterpart, Iam Noone. She is also known to take the appearance of an earth pony mare with identical coloration. Unlike other Nopony fragments, she is very fastidious where her appearance is concerned, and in any form will always appear well groomed and well dressed.
Back Ground: The Dutchess got away with it. There is no clearer way to say it. I am starting to see how the rather dreadful Pest Control Division see’s that thing… Iam Noone, as the lesser evil. Her crimes are all confessed in detail. Every bit of testimony no doubt paid in bits. Dutchess Anon Amiss. Formerly “Madame Alias”, like Noone she claimed it was the Nopony… Oddly enough I find myself hating Noone less. How much control did any one of them really have? What she did… the circus and the druggings were part of the second invasion… the Nopony worked for Chrysalis… I am going to scream right now. That felt… oddly satisfying…
-=-=-=-=- A city away a gangster-pony leaned close to a doctor’s office door. The two things that looked like changelings screamed in near mindless rage…
“Honestly I’m convinced,” The Dutchess laughed derisively, “The changelings came about in the first place because you little equine degenerates found a way to get it on with breezies…”
Ponies don’t generally believe in curses. Magic, even dark magic works by rules. Magic works by precise application of energy. Curses work by mojo, charma, and other such superstitious “nonsense”. Machinery can come to life with the proper application of magical energy. A building, a structure, place, does not become cursed simply because of the gravity of evil committed there. Things happen because of reasons. I have to believe that.
I have to believe that! The implications of a “curse” maintained by the animosity of restless spirits who were grievously wronged… it is too personal. The victims get to rest. This is the way the world should be. This case was becoming too personal. I was now dealing with two fragments of a hive mind, only one of which I had on a leash. Both had become suddenly agitated in the extreme. I noted that they both responded to the same stimuli unseen by the rest of us. I concluded, that despite their clear independence, some portion of the Nopony’s hive mind was still in play.
I have to focus on the case. So I address the two degenerates as sternly as I dare, knowing well I am in a room with a viper, “Well whatever that is about. We have a case in front of us. So please focus on the here and now, not what other fragments of yourself are doing where-ever they are in Equestria, do not worry, I can assure you we WILL be looking into that at a later date.”
My client’s mouth snaps shut like a trap and I receive a hateful but surprised glare as she realizes how much she has given away. I turn to my own pet abomination, “Tell me, what does the Dutchess know about this case.”
“Don’t work like that, boss,” the thing chuckles like a hoof scraping a black board, “not anymore anyway. I can only pick up on the loudest thoughts and feelings. And… Alie… you’re actually afraid?”
“We should go to the factory so you can see for yourself,” the ill reputed mare snarls.
I hold back a sigh of relief, for the moment I have the situation defused.
-=-=-=-=-
“So Iam”, Lighting Dust spoke in a casual, dry tone, “your sister…”
“We are not siblings,” Dutches Amiss snapped, “We are a cascading series of near infinite versions of a single individual that exists throughout the multiverse!”
“Fine,” The mare huffed, “okay, Iam, your twin sister decided to build a whore house in a factory where filly labor was historically sextually exploited. Am I the only one thinking, ‘This is how you get an evil curse’?”
“Curses are superstitious nonsense,” the detective huffed, “Magic works on scientifically observable principles of energy manipulation, not random hauntings and hokum pokum.”
“You have clearly never met a certain goat, Detective,” the manic degenerate giggled, “He does the best card tricks. And trust me you do NOT want to cross his hokum pokum…”
“It’s a strip club, not a whore house,” Amiss snarled.
“We both know there was going to be both a whore house AND a drug den in the back, Allie… Heh back alley…” Iam chuckled at it’s own joke.
“Why are we even walking to the factory boss,” Dust said with a roll of her slightly greyed eyes, “Unlock Flank Stain’s in-universe locks and we can just stop being here and start being there…”
“Under no circumstances will I consider unlocking that thing’s connection to the nothing,” Skrye snapped.
“You’re going to want to rethink that detective,” Dutchess Anon Amiss whispered fearfully, “I hate Iam Noone. I resent that any version of me ever fell to such undisciplined degeneracy. And I called your unit because I needed him specifically.”
-=-=-=-=-
This is stupid. The new boss is stupid. I ain’t smart, but even I can see how they’re playing him. This ain’t gonna end pretty, but then niether did I. As much as I hate that stupid thing, it’s sister is worse. By a lot. At least Iam is straight forward. It’s an evil, drug abusing degenerate that looks at me like… I don’t even know. Like I’m the unwilling object of a game of Buck, Mary, Kill, where I’m in all three slots. It makes my skin crawl. But it’s always been right out in the open. With its sister… it’s like walking in the shadow of sin.
“I don't’ like this boss,” I speak my mind, “I’ve worked with Iam long enough to know its games. I ain’t some super smart detective, but I know enough to see when we’re being played.”
“Your wagging tongue reminds me of a place in North Trotlanta where I used to get the best tacos,” I don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about, but I hear the implied threat.
“No one but me gets to call Dusty a cow, Alias,” It’s almost protective snarl crawls across my spine like hooves on a blackboard. Knowing what I know about humans and cows… I have to fight the urge to gag.
-=-=-=-=-
If the factory had been an imposing shadow at a distance, it became a looming menace as we approached. I began to notice the houses first. Too many houses nopony lived in. Other nice upscale houses converted to tenaments for the city’s most desperate. This wasn’t a curse.
“This can’t be a curse,” did I say that out loud?
The block surrounding the factory itself was more dead than any graveyard. No grass grew, not so much as a cockroach stirred. Post boxes in homes long abandoned held letters no pony bothered to collect before they left. Yet there was no sign of civil strife, no sign of mass exodus. I suspect in some of these homes I would find meals left uneaten. It was as if they had all fled in terror… one house at a time… over a long period of time…
“At the time I thought it was the deal of a lifetime,” the Duchess' words rang hollow in my ears as something grabs my attention, “I actually own all of this.”
Graffiti.
It was clear no one ever came here. No living thing had touched this place since it had been abandoned. What creature doesn’t loot an abandoned house, but leaves graffiti?
“Alias you stupid bitch!” the thing wailed as we approached the factory’s outer wall. “What did you do?!?!”
The mural was almost childish. A giant cartoon sun proclaimed the cheerful message, “Behind the clouds it’s a bright sunny day!”
I couldn’t tell you why, but the blood froze in my veins.
Shadow Of the Rainbow: Madness in the Light of the the Sun
“It’s been a long time.” The impossible painting of the sun’s cheerful words silently proclaimed, “Take time to reconnect with an old friend.”
“Detective!” Dutchess Amiss snapped, “If any of us are going to survive then repeat after me…”
“...Unlock dimensional translation,” Skye repeated in a hollow monotone. And then the world folded and then folded again.
A stick pony with a stupid detective hat screamed.
A stick changeling in a fancy dress would have heaved a sigh of relief if she had lungs, instead the word “sigh” hovered over her.
The stick pony that clearly took too many performance enhancing drugs rolled her eyes.
“We can all read the narration captions when you do this.” Yeah she knows she’s hot for a burnout. “Like that, I CAN read dammit, and I read that! There is not enough brain bleach to unread that!”
The cel seems to just fucking oozed black pointy spikes around the changeling bitch. “I swear I didn’t know! Not until it was too late!”
“What? Where? Why?” The pony in the stupid hat is broken.
“Goddammit, how long do we have to stay like this?!?!” Best worst pony knows she’s hot. “And you KNOW I can read that! What is wrong with you? That is a real question!”
The goddamm sun shines in a beautiful happy blue sky where the mackerel swim freely. I could honestly be happier shitting my pants right now, but saddly I have no pants. My pants are always the very first thing they take from me. The doctors are wise to fear what I can do with the power of pants.
“Dolphins repeating stale jokes in tuna nets will never attract the notice of scallops nor potatoes!” The Sun’s words are dry and tired and honestly smell like feet and fritos. Tartarus also smells like feet and fritos, as do most places I go for some reason. “Flying fish are eating manta rays again?”
The Sun’s question is as stupid as its smile, because obviously yes we are doing this, but then the stick pony in the stupid hat screams something not-stupid. “Reinstate dimensional translation lock!”
-=-=-=-=-
The wall is clean… unnaturally so, a wall that old should have graffiti by the right of all social order. There is no graffiti. There never was, and on some level I know this. Lightning Dust is vomiting and the thing is glaring murder at our client. I suspect its locks against physical violence are all that are keeping her alive right now.
“The sun didn’t find you on it’s own, Alias,” the abomination snarled and physically spat on the road, “That’s your thing, you're the alias, you’re not the one they're looking for. You can’t be found unless you want to be…”
The thing’s physical form seems to shift in directions that shouldn’t exist as it struggles against it’s magical anchors. Gone is the languid Tirek-may-care degeneracy. There is no sign of it’s twisted playfulness. I suddenly realize I have underestimated that thing. Just as suddenly I realize I had completely forgotten our client until the Duchess… no… Madame Alias spoke again. “Listen to me, Iam! It wasn’t my fault! We were converting the abandoned houses into apartments for the dancers! One of the ponies brought home an inspirational poster. She had no idea what it really was, or where it came from. Remember, I’m the one who called you!” It suddenly occurred to me that I had somehow been completely ignoring who this changeling was since the moment I deduced her identity.
“Madame Alias,” my sudden sneer is a pure mask of bravado, “Dimensional Translation! I see why you used it now. I always knew the how of it,” I can’t hide my disgusted sneer as I speak, “just feed it drugs and point it at a problem.”
“You wound me boss” For the first time since I’ve heard that thing speak it actually sounds… sincere. It’s voice twists to a snarl. “Did ya really think I couldn’t get better drugs on my own. I followed the nopony for the same reason I follow you. I was a thing and a tool and I never had not no say in how I was used.”
“Do not mistake my words for sympathy,” I spit on the cracked pavement, “Answer me as succinctly as possible for… yourself… What was that… just that?”
“It’s an abstract concept given form via the subliminal demi-plane.” The abomination shrugs, swallowing a handful of pills, that I suddenly wonder how it obtained. “We used to hang out. The entire collective, they call it a ‘constelation’, is nine of them. Used to be eleven, but they ran into some trouble is one of the post apoc universes. Heh, I told it, I said ‘Dude, do NOT mess around with the Cannibal Head.’ But no one listens to the drug addicted ‘insaniac’... it calls itself Mr. Sunshine.”
“And this… conglomerate thing… is what causing these maulings?” I can not believe I am deferring to this degenerate’s expertise.
“Sunshine? Naw, not his style.” The thing glares again at our client. “His thing is he makes deals. It’s kinda like a mafia where the whole gang is all the gang boss. He’s not even here yet. What you just saw… well that was just a two dimensional projection of one of it’s nine suns. He feeds suffering with false hope. But you gotta have suffering to plant the seed…”
“So it wasn’t the Sun that caused the malignant reanimation of the Rainbow Factory,” I mused out loud, “But rather said reanimation that drew attention of the Sun…”
“And now he knows we exist here,” the abomination suddenly takes a very serious tone, there is for the first time a note of true concern in it’s voice, “Yer gonna wanna put Dust on suicide watch for 24 hours, boss. Alias has just thrown us in the shadow of the leering sun.”
“The problems began when we started to disassemble the machinery.” the client… no, Madame Alias, always think of them by name… remember who they are, what they did. “The machinery activates by itself. It tears off a hoof, sometimes a limb. The ponies think it's a good thing that no creature has died yet.”
“But you don’t think so?” I am in a safe place right now. It’s only my voice that is interacting with this monster that pretends to be a person. I see an inspirational poster on the wall.
“You Can Do It, “ The smiling sun proclaims.
“You see us as monsters.” The thing… no Iam Noone’s, words are as unsolicited as they are unwelcome. I need to clear my mind, I have to focus on the case. “You don’t understand what a real monster is.”
“We have motivations, detective,” Alias sneers in my face, “I’ve said before we have the same motivation you do. Make. Them. Pay.”
“You are the ones who deserve to pay!” I can’t let them get to me! “I am nothing like you! The attacks you launched against Equestria were unprovoked! At least the abomination owns it’s crimes, Alias! While you pretend to hide behind the Mad Queen’s petrified skirt-tails. The Canterlot Mangler had the right of it! I only…”
My words catch in my throat… I only what?
“You say unprovoked,” Alias’ voice is a balm like poisoned honey, “You only know the pony royalty of this one universe. The matronly Celestia, the friendly Twilight, the ‘too kind prince’...”
The venom in that last name sets me back… before I can start to decompress my thoughts, Noone presses forward, with unusual thoughtfulness, while it spews sheer gibberish, “That makes more fish than than a seafood buffet. Dancing crab legs to draw feed from seahorses in the tuna factory. The history of canning mackerel would draw the sunfish beneath the waves.”
I glance again at the poster in the corner of my eye, the sun’s smile is strained, and it’s caption is sheer meaningless unspelled gibberish. I look back and forth between my degenerate subordinate only and the poster, only to find the poster gone. And just like that, the spell is broken.
“We are off point,” I state, possibly with more temper than I intend. Something provoked that. I try to remember the poster… what did it say, where did it go?
“We are being manipulated.” The mad madame shakes her mane, as if trying to dislodge cobwebs. “This is why I called your department, this is why as distasteful as I find the thing, I needed Iam Noone.”
“How did you do that?” I turn my suspicions on Noone. “You should be under full magical lockdown.”
“I told you, boss,” the thing says it’s oily, jovial tone returned, “Mr. Sunshine’s not here yet, he’s just trying to break through the fourth wall. And the fourth wall’s my little bitch. He almost broke through earlier. If I hadn’t folded the words in on themselves, you would have seen what a real monster is. So long as he’s fully on the other side of it, I can vex him easily enough. But he’s watching from the other side, in between our layer and the readers…”
“What nonsense are you spewing?” I demand irately.
“Good luck getting a straight answer,” Madame alias rolls her eyes, “I was trapped in a hive mind with it for a near eternity, and it still gives me headaches. The point I was making is, that the ‘accidents’ somehow called that ‘Sunshine’ thing here.”
“That is not how summoning works!” I find myself growing agitated by this insistent nonsense.
“This ain’t magic boss,” Iam says grin, and I find myself asking, was that chair that it lounges in always there? “The subliminal demiplane exists in between the story and the text itself, it plays by different rules.”
-=-=-=-=-
“I don’t get it it,” The First guard complains, why does it take four of us to keep suicide watch on one conscript?”
“Something’s got ‘em spooked,” the second guard the opined.
“Yeah, but we’re not even watching her, we’re staring at the walls in the room,” The third guard griped, “Tyrek’s stony flank! We are doing the opposite of watching the stupid nag.”
“I’ve never seen that thing show as much as an ounce of worry,” the mare in question shook her head as she spoke out, “That last boss let him off the leash more. I’ve seen what it can do. And if something in the walls scares a thing that can fold reality into words and pictures to walk across town, you better watch the walls.”
“Screw this,” the forth guard rolled his eyes, “I’m staring at a door with a window. There is a coffee pot directly across the hall. I won’t miss anything. Anypony else want a cup?”
The door opened and the light poured in, scorching the fur from the poor guard of the fourth wall’s face, like a bullet Dust dashed to slam the door, shoving the injured guard rudely out of the way, taking up his vigil. “Watch the walls! Remember, fourth one out gets burned!”
“Conscript Dust!” Detective Skrye snarled at the defiant pegasus. “What in the depths of tartarus happened here!”
“Private Dingus couldn’t follow instructions and took his eyes off the wall.” Lightning dust waved contemptuously at the burned unicorn guard, strapped to a gurney and gibbering. “And I had to finish the shift in my own suicide watch. Do you know how fucked up that is?”
“Ya did good, Dust Muffin,” the changeling said with a smirk, “Officer Darwin Award didn’t just take his eyes off the fourth wall, he accidentally broke it. You actually managed to shut the door to the Subliminal Demi Plane fast enough. Hell, no creature died, but I won’t hold it against you.”
“I’m the one in charge here!” The detective scowled.
“Keep believing that,” the thing smiled in response.
“You already know I’m going to win.” The poster on the wall smiled.
“You had to follow me,” The degenerate thing masquerading as a changeling sneered.
“It is not a curse!” The detective screamed.
“A curse is just an ouchie you pretend to ignore.” The poster was reassuring.
“Dolphins tuna netting sturgeon experienced no side effects,” It assured him. He didn’t know why he trusted it. “Your call has been disconnected due to starfish inference.” He knows he should never trust this thing. But the sun in the sky scowled. When he looked at the poster again the wall was clean.
“I don’t need you to fight this!” He argued in vain.
“No, you need me to even really see it.” The monster that pretended to be a changeling purred.
-=-=-=-=-
There is nothing better than being completely in the moment. Alias doesn’t get that. Never has. Okay, I lied… a lot… over a long period of time… to a lot of various creatures… But anyway, there is one thing better than being in the moment, being high in the moment. And the snozz berries taste like snozz berries! And I think she cracked my jaw! And Dusty is violently enraged, and the second biggest monster in this room is disgusted. Six out of Pi, best staff meeting ever. Alias never got the “fun” part of this.
But really I think Alias just wants the hive mind back, just with her in charge. And I get that. I do. It’s easy when someone else is in charge. It’s easier when they’re not making you help them hide behind the name you made to hide behind. It only used her to hide. It only used Legion when it needed to be in two places at one time. When the Nopony needed a face, and when it needed a name, it used me. So yeah, the only thing better than living in the moment is living in the moment while high.
I have been called a monster, both in this world of pretty little ponies, and in my own. And I’ll tell you a little secret: it’s the truth. It’s not something I’m ashamed of. Before “I” was “We”, before “We” were “Nopony”, I was always a monster. My mother, my uncles, they always told me so. They never used that word. There were other words, words like “emotionally unstable”, and “childhood schizophrenia” that doctors would use. Then I wouldn’t see that doctor anymore. I learned to hide what I was because that’s what monsters do. But I wasn’t really a monster, I was a victim, and I hated it.
Then the doctors taught me, by accident almost, that I could manipulate my own brain chemistry manually.
Now some of us will tell you there’s some grander motivation behind it all, that we serve some greater purpose… but I won’t ever lie to you like that. It’s simple. I just wanted to be happy and have fun, but the world hurts. And I don’t like hurting. And before, in the great scheme of things, I didn’t have much say in the matter. Then that changed. And given a choice, why not just make the thing that hurts me go away? Is that really so bad?
Technically I was the one that went away, really. Did you know that you could build a multiverse portal with a disco ball, a strobe light, and loop mixing software? I mean obviously there were also a lot of drugs, and I do mean A LOT of drugs. Oddly specific drugs too. I’m not going to tell you the exact mix because I promise there are easier, and more pleasant, ways to commit suicide.
The hardest part was finding the right discordant mathematical musical sequences to get your brain in just the right spot. Think of it as six dimensional yoga but for your brain. You have to hit your brain with just the right uninterpretable stimuli to make it twist in directions that don’t exist in normal four dimensional space. The drugs were mostly just to kill the pain of your thought process breaking every bone in its imaginary body.
And also funsies, because you don’t get the tolerance to survive that kind of cocktail, without a lot of practice…
I could always see the rainbow. But suddenly I had snuck up on the rainbow from the other side. And the other side of the rainbow was just words that named colors. And I wasn’t alone. That voice in the back of my head. That unnamed monster that always told me “This is wrong”. The Cannibal Head. It was there to meet me at the gate. It was there to keep me out. I was there to keep something else in. We both failed. It was really embarrassing. And then I was a pony.
Sort of… not really. I watch the sunrise crawl across the inspirational poster. “I see you.”
C:/ Well this is embarrassing. The story stops here. But it doesn’t end here. Something happened. Princess Twilight did a thing. The Smiling Sun was sealed… for a while.
“It happened!” the crystal head proclaimed to the serpent tongued conductor
C:/ In truth the Princess probably didn't even see the sun. It’s a common blind spot from looking into the sun. Magic went away. This was always our deal. It’s been right at a thousand moons.
“This is way past me and you.” The hellish conductor proclaimed. “I’m just here to tell you that you don’t belong here, and you never shoulda come back.”