Happiness Is What You Make Of It

by Nameless Narrator


26: The End

“Phew! Dat wos sumteeng,” I wipe my brow dripping with sweat when I’m finally done unloading a large laundry basket into one of the three washing machines down here in the cellars.

Hmm, there was something I still had to do. What was it, what was it?

“Ah, peeza!”

Turning the washing machine on, I shut the door and rush upstairs.

So, the work in the brothel is super hectic. Even when nothing breaks, I spend most of my time running around and preparing rooms for guests as Wet Whisper said I would. I barely have a moment to myself or to talk to Feather. On the other hoof, it’s been over a week, and I’ve gotten paid once already.

I don’t know what to do with that much money. I still even have some left over after consulting it with Feather who had some great ideas what to spend it on. I bought a set of saddlebags, which feels weird since I still have so much money even after I spent some to buy something to hold it. The best part, though, is that now I have a leather, wool-laden cap which means my ears don’t sting anymore whenever I’m outside. Yay!

Feather wanted me to buy a jacket at least, but I found that idea impractical. How would I wear it when I still wash in the fountain from time to time? No, the cap was good enough. What I DID buy, though, was a packet of wooden planks from the store where I used to do my shopping for the barracks. While I couldn’t make something from them, I wedged them between the ground and the dumpster in our alley, and made a slanted roof for our box. With the umbrella covering us from the front now as well, the nights with Feather and still incapacitated Stitches under one blanket are actually warm.

The only downside is that I’m not allowed to sleep in the brothel. I asked Wet Whisper about setting a place up in some closet, but she said no. I didn’t pry further. It’s her place, and she’s paying me enough not to bother her.

So yeah, it’s going great. I keep passing out every time I go back home after work, but I suppose that’s going to change eventually when I get used to the rapid tempo of each night.

Gasping for breath in the main hallway, I sit down at the receptionist’s desk. There’s nopony here at this time of morning. The brothel is officially closed for business, everypony is resting after a long night, and I have one last thing to do, which is to pick up a pizza the girls ordered as a treat after tonight. All I’m supposed to do is to pay the delivery pony when he comes and bring the food to the bar on the ground floor. I can handle that.

I think.

Pretty soon, the little bell on the desk rings, signalling somepony is by the door, and I go to open it.

“Delivery for miss...” the arriving young unicorn stallion looks at a notepad hovering in front of him, “Honey Glaze. One ‘Surprise in each slice’ customized pizza.”

“Yor een d rite pleis, ser,” I nod.

He furrows his brows, trying to decipher what I’ve just said. I don’t push him, I’m used to it. He gets it eventually, and levitates the pad and the pen to me.

“Alright, sign here. That’ll be thirty-three bits.”

I count the coins the girls gave me, and add a bit for the service from my own. I heard it was customary to leave a tip, but I didn’t get any instructions about that, so it doesn’t feel right using their money in case I’m wrong.

“Thank you,” says the stallion and levitates the pizza box onto my back.

“Yor welcum,” I wait until he closes the door, and carefully walk down the hallway to the bar.

I’ve got four legs, a flat top, and there’s food on me. I’m a table!

Can I add it to my list of work qualifications?

There are no clients at the bar anymore and the dancing stage is empty, There are only seven mares and three stallions relaxing around the biggest table near the bar, sipping various drinks.

Some of the mares I know, some I’ve just seen after my orientation rundown when I started working here. There’s Zemi, the super friendly chubby zebra with whom I’ve spent the most time after Feather. The changeling is there in her pegasus disguise as well, currently yawning and clearly having difficult time staying awake. Honey Glaze is leaning back in her chair, hind legs on the table, and drinking something pink and sticky. Wet Whisper, for once without her clothes, is just relaxing in her chair with a shot glass of something.

The others I don’t know that well. There’s a young unicorn mare going by the name Lemongrass, light green with yellow mane. She doesn’t take clients, but she dances here every night. I think I heard she’s earning money to pay for her studies at the School for Gifted Unicorns which is supposedly very expensive. I don’t think she’s even of age, but nopony has ever complained, and when some clients tried to hit on her, the others showed them out. Harshly. Speaking of harshly, another stage dancer working here is Deep Dark, a batpony who had recently arrived to Canterlot alongside new princess Luna. When I first saw her, I WASN’T SCARED AT ALL, I SWEAR!

I mean, she has big, sharp teeth, and I remembered all the bad things I heard from the radio about batponies and their princess Luna. Deep Dark is quiet, and dances here for fun. She also said she was here on a mission from the new princess herself to get to know the population and make them more comfortable with batponies. Anyway, she’s scary but really nice. I don’t mean scary as in batpony-vampony scary, but as a soldier. Ever since Chiseled Chin beat me up, I’m kinda uneasy about strong, soldier-type mares, but all the others turned out to be great, so I just have to get used to them. Funny thing is, she has a short, grey carpet-y coat just like Zemi, and dark purple mane cut down even more than I have. It’s supposedly a prescribed cut for the Nightguard. The last mare here is Soft Hoof, a pegasus masseuse, light blue like a bright sky with her fluffy grey mane which resembles clouds. She takes clients like everypony else, but also does massages and dances. Kinda hectic, if you ask me, but she doesn’t mind so it’s okay.

The three stallions are quietly chatting with the girls. They mostly avoid me, I feel. Well, two of them do, the big guys. So, the big guys are a zebra stallion working here, and an earthpony one. Both are big, chiseled, muscular types, and that’s pretty much all I know. They get most of the female clients here, but some male as well. The zebra is called Hest, he’s grey with black stripes just like Zemi, and the brown-coated and blonde-maned earthpony’s name is Dust. The only stallion who doesn’t avoid me is the small pegasus one, at least compared to the other two. His name is Stratos, and he dresses like a mare. Well, not really, because mares usually don’t wear much just like anypony else, but he likes long dresses, corsets, stockings, and socks a lot. I think he has quite the eye for it too. I didn’t get too many details about it, but he works closely with Wet Whisper and spends a lot of time in the weird cellar with a lot of leather, whips, ropes and spikes. Even outside of work hours!

On the other hoof, the place is always neatly organized when it’s my time to clean it, so I just wipe the sweat and blood off of the floor and spray everything with air fresheners. Wet Whisper told me that some clients enjoy pain if caused correctly and under the right circumstances, which makes no sense to me, but she’s the expert and I just clean the place.

There are more ponies working in the brothel, but they aren’t around at the moment.

“Heyyy, pizza is here!” calls Dust out when the door clicks shut behind me, “Lemon, will you?”  

“Waaay ahead of you,” Lemongrass rushes over and levitates the box off of my back right onto the table. She opens the box, delicious smell of cooking filling the air, “Ohhhh yessss...”

With my job well done, I really should be going. It’s been a long night, and I can feel the daze creeping through me.

“Where are you going, Greyscale?” I hear Zemi call out, “Come have a slice with us.”

I turn back and trot over, yawning.

“Ai deednt pay anyteeng.”

“That’s alright,” Feather points to an empty chair next to hers she’s just grabbed from the next table, “I can share mine.”

As I sit down, everypony is hungrily devouring their slice already. Feather leans to my ear and whispers:

“We changelings aren’t the best with your pony food, so help me out here.”

I nod and take a bite from her triangle which is covered with sliced tomatoes and bell peppers. It’s definitely better than the stew at Sunlight’s mercy, but that’s to be expected from food not made of leftovers. Feather takes a much smaller bite and cleans her muzzle with her hoof.

“Damn, how you eat so little and still keep that kind of a figure is beyond me,”  Deep Dark shakes her head, “If I ate this in the guard, I wouldn’t last a single day of training, and if I ate too much, I’d bulk out like crazy.”

“I guess I’m just lucky,” Feather chuckles, “Don’t worry, Deepy, most mares would unapologetically murder their husbands to have your body.”

“Well yeah,” the batpony waves her pizza slice, “but they still have to pay in gold, no substitutions.”

A round of amused laughter fills the room.

“Do I have something on my foreleg?” asks Wet Whisper, and I realize I’m staring.

“Um, ehm-”

“I think he likes you,” teases Honey Glaze, “Do you, Greyscale?”

Huh, what? I mean, yes. I like all the ponies I’ve met here.

“Yes, Ai do,” I nod to the widening eyes of everypony around, “Mees Weesper ees grate. She let me work heer eevn without ekspeeriense. Plus, shee dosent yell at me wen Ai do sumteeng wrong, just tells me hau to do eet rite.”

And here comes a round of disappointed sighs for some reason.

“Then what was so interesting on me a moment ago?” asks Wet Whisper, eyebrow raised.

Well, the thing is that this is my first time seeing Wet Whisper without some fancy suit on, and I couldn’t help myself. As I guessed before, she possesses the perfect round hourglass figure I noticed before, and when she moves one can see muscles bulge through the soft coat, but there are things her clothes cover. Her body is cross-crossed with scars and whip marks. I have no idea who would want to hurt such a nice lady, but somepony apparently had in the past. However, that’s not what I was staring at.

“Yor tettoos, mem.”

She looks at her shoulder completely covered in some red, inky symbols so tightly they form a mesh, but a mesh that… makes sense? There are many patches of these runes all over her. On her thighs, around the base of her tail, on the back of her neck, under her chin, which I never noticed before, and on one of her ears.

“My tattoos?” Whisper smiles and sighs, “Do you think they look bad?”

“Nou nou nou nou nou,” I frantically wave my hooves in front of my muzzle, “Dey ar reely prettee, just… Ai feel as eef Ai shud nou wot dey meen. Dey feel familier.”

Wet Whisper looks taken aback for a moment.

“I would be absolutely stumped if you did,” she shakes her head and points her painted foreleg at me, “These together are called ‘runic shroud’. Back during the last war, they were used by earthpony stormtroopers for magical protection. They are vastly inferior to real armor or magical crystals  for protection-”

“-but dey serve as mainor mejical sheelds det cant be teiken awey.”

Huh, where did that come from?

Wet Whisper blinks.

“T- that’s correct. Anyway, I got used to them and eventually turned them into real tattoos like these.”

“With the help of a unicorn wizard, no doubt. A normal pony tattooing over the shroud would only ruin it,” I hear the quietest of guiding voices, “And this one is still working.”

“Steeches?” I whisper.

Feather digs the knee of her foreleg into my side.

“Ouch!”

“Oops, my bad,” Whisper apologizes, waving the remains of the pizza slice, “Want the rest?” she shoves it into my mouth.

“Mmmh hoo!”

“Now,” Feather pats my head, “There’s actually a non-pizza related reason we wanted you here tonight.”

I gulp down the last bit.

“Ail wosh d teibl layter.”

“No, no the table. Although yes, you’ll have to do that too,” Feather grins, “Zemi, will you?”

“Right you are, Tender Feather,” the zebra leans down under the table and then her head peeks out, but she’s holding something in her forelegs still under the tabletop. Then she quickly raises them up, “Tyadaa! Look here, your friend got better.”

Fr-

It takes me a second to identify the dark blue and purple blur.

“STEECHES?!” I rush around the table to Zemi and snatch Stitches from her hooves. I examine him from all sides, taking note of the tiny immaculate stitching around his neck where Tracker’s magic caused the horrible twisted mess. He also looks a bit thinner, and when I poke his belly, it rustles, “Yor ol skinnee nau! Eef eet doesnt work out een d gaard for yoo, yoo ken be a model.”

“I had no cotton to refill his stuffing, but crumpled newspaper clippings were the second best thing.”

I have nothing to repay Zemi with. Perhaps some of the bits I got?

“And, she fixed him because she wanted to, so you don’t have to pay her or anything,” says Feather and everypony looks at her. She shrugs, “Trust me, I know Greyscale. This is exactly what he was thinking. Right, Greyscale?”

I hesitantly nod and look at Zemi.

“Yes, mem. Yoo deed dis for me… ken Ai et leest hug yoo?”

“Now THAT’S what you have to pay for!” calls out Honey Glaze, much to the laughter of everypony.

“It helped me pass time, Greyscale, and you’re such a dear,” Zemi stretches out her forelegs, “Of course friends get these for free. Come over here.”

I squeeze the chubby zebra. Not too hard, but hopefully enough to get through how much what she did means to me.

As she pats my back and breaks the embrace, I hear Feather’s yawn. Swiping Stitches off of the table and putting him on my back like in the old days of… few days ago, I turn to her.

“Do yoo wont to gou houm?”

“Oh, you two live together?” asks Honey Glaze.

“Yes,” I nod, “we hev dis big boks-”

“We’re roommates!”

Boxmates, but we’re making the place into a real room, so it’s close enough and I nod.

“Anyway, thanks Zemi a ton. Stitches means the world to him. However, we need to go, because we still have stuff to do and I want everything sorted out before I pass out.”

Stratos stretches all four legs in his chair, then runs his hoof through his long mane.

“I gotta agree with the two. As much as I’d like to chat, I’m beat. Metaphorically and literally. See you tomorrow, everypony,” he stands up, flashes a smile to all of us, and with a distinct swaying of his hips heads for the exit. I can’t avoid noticing whip marks on his flank as he walks away. He even walks like a mare, huh. Strange, but he makes it work.

Tender Feather pokes me.

“Stop ogling Stratos’ ass and come on, Greyscale. We’ve got places to be.”

“Ai laik beeing a ponee, Ai dont wont to be a pleis.”

My objection is ignored as Feather keeps tugging on my coat and I follow.

“See you tomorrow, you two,” Honey Glaze waves at us.

“Bai, end tank yoo agen!” I wave both my forelegs at Zemi, quickly stopping when Stitches starts sliding down from my back.

Outside, Feather puts on a sharp pace, heading in a different direction from the one we usually go to our box.

“Now, I’ve got some interesting news.”

“Aim eenterestid olredy.”

“Heh, sometimes I don’t know whether you mean it or you’re making fun of me,” she shakes her head, “Anyway, the news is that our good doctor was alright with me delaying the payment for fixing your muzzle.”

“Wai? Ai ken geev yoo d monee Ai got dis week. Eets not mush but eet shud help.”

“No need. I promised I would pay for it, and I will. Now, how much money you have left over this week?”

“Sumteeng over hundreed beets.”

“That should cover it nicely.”

As we walk through early morning mountainside Canterlot, I feel almost at home. I’d like to be really at home, but Feather’s company is nice too, and the brisk walk is waking me up.

“Sou, wot do yoo need me for?”

“Well, I was thinking and counting my money.”

“Ai do det too sumtaims!”

“The thinking or the counting?”

“Uhh, both, but not at d seim taim, det gets me confyoozd.”

“I can imagine. So, I had an idea. Since we’re earning a reasonable amount of bits together, how about we go and rent a real place to live?”

“Uhh, laik a beeg boks?”

“Like an apartment. I looked into some ads, and there are few places we can check out today.”

A real place? I’d get to live in a real apartment? Like a real pony? With a real friend?

I…

I don’t even…

I never thought this was possible.

“You’re its food, Greyscale,” I hear Stitches whisper, “No more, no less. It will get rid of you when you’re not useful in a blink of an eye.”

Tender Feather freezes and slowly turns to me.

“I heard that.”

“Bed Steeches! Fedder ees a frend. Shee deed a lot for me!”

“Greyscale, YOU said that,” Feather looks me in the eyes, “I’ve got very good ears, and I clearly heard you just like in the brothel. You said it normally.”

“Nou, Steeches deed. Ai wud never say det,” my eyes mist over, “Yor mai frend. Yoo seivd me! Aim not a bed ponee, I wud never meen eet. I wud never, ever, ever-” I shake my head vigorously, “meen eet. Yor mai frend! Yor not eet! Ai dont maind yoo eet hugs end Ai feel kold afterwords. Ai wont yoo around! Steeches ees just overprotekteev.”

Why did Stitches have to say that? Feather has never done anything bad to me.

Feather is just standing there, her eyes glowing green now. She tilts her head and the glow fades.

I-

I blink. What just happened? My head hurts.

I wipe my eyes.

“Alright,” says Feather, “You are a good friend too, Un- Greyscale

“Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire!” I hear Stitches’ constant whispering.

“Bee kwuiet,” I hiss back at the plushie, “Shees nais, end shee ken heer yoo.”

Feather chuckles to herself.

“Come on,” I hear the amused notes in her voice, “We’ve got a busy morning ahead of us.”

***

So, now I know Stitches is scared of Feather for some reason, which is weird because Zemi can’t have known about Stitches without Feather telling her. Plus, I didn’t bring Stitches to the brothel ever, so Feather must have done that too. Oh well, it’s not always easy to make new friends, but true nature will shine through in the end.

Anyway, with that embarrassing misunderstanding behind us, Feather and I checked out several apartments on her list. She apparently had all this prepared way in advance, just needed the right time to go see the offers at once. The places were all similar. Either it was a cheap single room with some utility closets and a bathroom, although still significantly larger than our living crate, or there were two rooms, but then the rent more than doubled. I didn’t mind either. The small ones meant we would have to sleep together with Feather, which is something I’m more than used to by now, and the bigger ones meant we had room for improvement in the future.

I let Feather do the talking. Truthfully, I had nothing of value to add aside from when we visited one place, the cheapest one, which I really disliked. It smelled there and I noticed darker blots on the ceiling and walls, which meant there was something wrong with the pipes. Plus, somepony kept stomping in the apartment above us, which could make sleeping a bit problematic.

The last place on Feather’s list, however…

I gasp for breath. Not only because the top floor apartment is rather spacious, but, well, mainly because it’s on the top floor of a five-story apartment complex. The landlord, a greasy old earthpony, waves his hoof around to encompass the main big room.

“This is it, a beauty if I say so myself,” he announces, a little bit of celebration in his raspy voice, “and, as I said, only five hundred bits a month.”

“Definitely,” Feather nods, admiring the place, “Mind if we look around?”

“Of course not. That’s why you’re here after all.”

“Excellent,” Feather pokes my side, “Greyscale, have a look around, will you? I’ll have a chat with our potential new landlord.”

“Okey,” I trot off.

When I enter the second room of the suite, I hear a quiet groan from behind. Just in case, I peek back through the door, only to see Feather staring down the landlord. Well, nothing seems to be wrong, so I walk around, carefully tapping on the wooden floor in case of some hollow space.

“Celestia’s backside, THAT is what you’ll be living with?” asks Stitches.

“Wot do yoo meen?”

“Look, I didn’t sense any magic, but I sure as Tartarus can recognize a mind control attempt when I see one.”

“Ai dont undrstend,” I have a quick look into the sink and he cupboard under it. Empty, but sturdy and clean. Also, the only piece of furniture in the whole apartment aside from a shelf nailed to the wall in the main room.

“Look, I’ve only read a brief mention about changelings in an ancient bestiary, but I put two and two together from what we’ve seen in Border Glades and here.”

“Thre- Ai meen four,” I rub my temple, “Mai hed hurts.”

“Sorry, that’s my fault. Look, before I make things worse, just be careful around the changeling. It knows about me and doesn’t care, which can either mean it can deal with you no matter what I do or say, or...”

“Or shee teenks Aim teystee end wonts me around as a frend?”

“Yeah… which… is strange. Changelings I read about were ruthless predators, but...”

“Em Ai een denjer?”

“Right now? I don’t think so, at least not from it. I need to think.”

Well, back to things I understand or can do something about.

“Do yoo laik dis pleis?”

“Hm?” Stitches sounds surprised.

“Eet has a shelf on wich Ai ken put yoo so yoo ken look after me better.”

“Honestly, this is a really nice place. I wonder why it’s so cheap. That might be a good question to ask the landlord.”

Taking that as a yes, I go check the bathroom and the two closets. As I return back to the main room to look into the final one, I see Feather having a hushed conversation with the landlord.

Oh, so that’s why there was a toilet in the other closet, this one has a shower!

So, there are two rooms, one of which has a sink. One closet with a toilet, one with a shower, and an empty one. Each room offers a sliding window. Granted, the view from one is only the mountain while the second one overlooks some alley, but I don’t mind that at all.

I mean, if we can pay for this then we should. It’s clean and seems in a good shape.

“Dis pleis seems greit. Wai ees eet sou cheep?” I remember what Stitches said. Feather facehoofs for some reason.

“Cheap, you say?” the landlord gives me a wide smile, “Well-”

“Don’t even try to jack the price!” Feather frowns.

The landlord raises his hoof defensively.

“Calm down, I was just messing with you. The thing is that walking up five flights of stairs few times a day gets old fast. You must have seen there’s no bath, only a shower, the view is nonexistent, there is no furniture included, and we’re here by the mountainside, so I can’t really raise the price too high.”

“Holy moly, an honest answer? That’s the first one today,” Feather shakes her head, “We’ll take it. Can I stop by tomorrow with the advance payment?”

The landlord shuffles backwards and chuckles.

“You see, it’s not that simple. I’ve got another pair of customers coming later today, and if they pay on the spot then it’s theirs. As you said, this place is a great find and-”

“When?” Feather says quickly.

The landlord looks at the watch around his foreleg.

“In about two hours.”

“We’ll be here sooner, have the contract ready!”

Feather nods at me.

“Come, Greyscale!”

“Okey.”

And now we run.

Down five flights of stairs.

Huh, now I can see what the landlord meant.

Outside, I stop Feather, and between gasping for breath, I ask:

“Were are wee goeeng?”

“I keep my money in the brothel safe. Whisper should still be there. I didn’t think we’d need to pay for the place today, and I’m not risking anything in case the landlord is NOT making this up to make us sign the contract.”

“Den Ail just slow yoo daun becuz yoo ken flai,” I shake my head, reaching into my saddlebag and pulling a small, clinking pouch, “Teik mai beets. Dere ees a hundred end tree left. Eets not mush, but eets ol Ai got. Det wey yoo ken run dere end bek wail Ai go get aur teengs from d boks. Et leest d blankits.”

Feather pats my head.

“Good thinking. Alright, I’ll see you there,” she pockets my bits into her saddlebag, and takes to the sky.

Time to do my part. I don’t have much money, but I can carry stuff.

***

Alright, so there was no furniture in the apartment. Our crate is sturdy, though, and can serve as a table so I should definitely take that. We won’t have a bed either. Hmm, do we need a second blanket to sleep on? We’ll have to sort that out later, since I can’t run off to buy it because I gave Feather my bits.

We’ll have time for that once we have a real roof over our heads. Hmm, come to think of it, the apartment was a little drafty. I completely missed that in my excitement. The windows had to be damaged or something. The landlord must have known about it and counted the problem into the cost. It doesn’t matter if the place needs some repairs afterwards anyway. It’ll give me something to do in my free time.

Our alley greets me and Stitches again. Not literally, of course. Alleys don’t talk. Although if Stitches can, despite it being in my head… why not-

“Alleys can’t talk,” says Stitches.

“Awww...”

A new friend would be nice, but I already have many new friends in the brothel so I have no reason to complain.

Standing in front of our living crate, I wonder how to pick everything up.

The closed umbrella will fit in the crate no problem. The blanket is already inside and so are the towels. Hmm, the two long planks will be a problem. I can either make two trips, which I’d like to avoid, or I can stick them in the crate in some way that would make them balance each other out on my back when I carry all of it. Now how would that wor-

“Unfettered Curiosity...” I hear a growl.

“Shit!” curses Stitches.

Holy moly, can the alley talk after all?

Wait, no. Unfettered Curiosity.

Oh no, did the two ponies mistake me for somepony else again?

I turn around and see a dark blur for a fraction of a second.

My vision swims.

I blink and shake my head as two hooves grab me by my neck. It really is the earthpony who attacked me before. Strain, was it?

“We told you to get the money, and we told you not to try to hide!” I hear Strain growl again, “Our employer was really... annoyed when we couldn’t find you last week, which means WE got less money.”

“But Aim not dis Unfettered Curiosity! Ai dont ou monee to enyponee, Ai teenk-”

He slams me against the wall.

“Tracker, plan B?”

Light next to Strain bends and shifts, and the unicorn appears out of nowhere just like the earthpony did. His horn glows, my ears pop, and the sounds from the main street become strangely muffled. Next, the white light from his horn runs up and down my body still held by Strain.

“Yes. This assignment has gone for far too long and he has no gold on himself. I’m not going to be yelled at by that asshole if we let this guy off the hook again and he changes visage. The tracking spell is reliable, but slow. Hold him down, and let’s get our share of the money. The client can kiss our asses goodbye after this.”

Strain lets me go. I sigh, then-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

I feel every mostly healed stitch in my muzzle break, shards of newly shattered bones ripping my skin again.

I try to cover my head with my hooves as I spot Strain wind up again. His hoof knocks the air out of me, and I fall on my back.

“Roll him over,” I barely hear Tracker speak over the rushing of blood in my ears.

Strain rolls me on my side, and sits down on me.

This is bad, this is bad, this is bad! I don’t know what they have in mind, but what Tracker said sounded final. Trying to wiggle myself free, I kick my legs…

...and hit something.

“Screw this!” groans Tracker.

I feel pressure around my hind legs, but can’t see anything other than dim glow.

Crack.

Crunch.

I throw up.

“M-m-m-m-m-mai l-l-l-egs...”

I stop moving. I can feel myself trembling, but every conscious attempt at kicking again hurts too much. It’s as if red hot knives that are freezing cold at the same time stabbed my knees.

“Owowowowowowowowwwww...” I mumble, outer world slowly fading away, “Wai ar yoo sou meen to mee…?”

Speaking of knives, from the corner of my eye I see Tracker levitate a small one which nonetheless looks incredibly sharp.

“Oh god...” I hear Stitches, “a scalpel? What do they- oh no! That’s how they want to ‘get their part of the payment’.”

“You holding him, Strain?”

“He keeps twitching and mumbling, I can’t do much about that.”

“That’s alright. Once I have the stasis spell set up around the critical organs, we can gut him without any real damage to those. Or at least any damage a skilled unicorn couldn’t repair.”

Wait, organs? They… they want to take my organs?

“Ai… Ai ken.. ken geev yoo… sum of mai… beets… eef yoo… let me bee,” I mutter, “Ai dont nou woo needs dem… but eef Ai deed sumteeng bed… yoo ken teik sum. Eef eet helps sumponee...”

“Yeah, well, you should have thought about selling a kidney to repay your debts before you screwed us over. Now we’re gonna take everything. Black market always needs healthy organs.”

“Nou… nou… Ai need sum… to breeth… end eet...”

“You won’t after this,” he stabs the scalpel into my side, and starts cutting.

“Grrrngnn...” I foam at the mouth, but can’t move anymore at all no matter how it hurts.

Huh, it hurts less and less. In fact, I can’t feel much anymore. What a relief…

“Alright, the easy one’s out,” Tracker announces. Was it this long, or is he that quick?

He’s levitating something big, reddish brown and squishy. As it shimmers with blue magic, he puts it into a large box.

I feel dizzy and tired. In fact, how am I still awake? Must be some sort of magic.

“Now for the vital parts,” Tracker continues, “He might spasm as he dies, so hold him really steady.”

Wait, dies? I don’t want to die.

“Ai… Ai deednt… do eny...teeng… Ai shud… die… for...” I mumble, but they ignore me.

Did I?

“Ai… Ai ken geev… d laydee… her beet… bek...”

“Aim soree… for teikeeng… a bath… een d… fawnteen...”

“D barraks… wosnt… mai… fault...”

“Aim soree… mester Kleer Eensaid… for ruineeng yor job… but yoo were not a… nais… ponee...”

“Hai… Fedder...”

“Bai… Fedder...”

I try to wave my hoof at the pegasus. Is she even really here?

“Yoo were a nais… shen.. .jee… leeng...”

I hear a ear-splitting roar which wakes me up for a moment. I don’t want to wake up. Everything hurts when I wake up.

Aaaah… the dizziness is coming back. Good.

“What the hay?! A bear?” yells Strain.

The sound of something hard and heavy hitting flesh is all I can hear.

Bear? Why would a bear be here?

Wait, no. There’s also panicked screaming.

Green fire.

“Oh no. What in Queen’s name did they do to you? Greyscale, are you still with me? GREYSCALE!”

“...”

“Guards...” I hear Stitches groan, “Grey Shrine. Die… if carried. Levitate. Need… new stasis… spell. Soon.”

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!” I hear Feather’s trembling voice.

“Panicking… won’t help, changeling.”

Everything is going grey.

Hey, just like my name. Greyscale.

“Don’t let him fall asleep.”

At least Stitches knows what to do.

Sharp spike of pain from my ear makes me twitch and open my eyes a little.

“Ow...”

“Sorry!” I hear Feather gasping for breath.

Everything is blurry and wind is rushing in my ears.

Voices. Multiple angry voices.

“GREY SHRINE! DOES ANYPONY KNOW SOME GREY SHRINE?!”

Hehe, I do. She’s this nice lady who takes care of the recruit barracks. I wonder what she does these days. She told me when I was at the asylum, I just can’t remember.

Why can’t I remember?

It’s so difficult to think now.

I really should sleep.

It’s kinda hard with all the ponies screaming and yelling. Are the blurs around ponies? They must be.

On the other hoof, a bear appeared out of nowhere before.

Okay, screaming blurs.

“Skreeming blrrs… ken yoo... let me... sleep, plees?”

“-doctor, now!”

“-know only battlefield triage-”

“-TAKING SO LONG?”

“-won’t last-”

And now even the blurs are gone, and the screaming goes quieter. I can finally sleep.

“Tank… y-”

***

The door to the Canterlot castle emergency room slammed shut, leaving the pink-eyed, light blue pegasus mare with wet streaks on her muzzle staring at it.

She wasn’t alone.

Two pristine white Royal Guards in their gold-foiled plate armors pointed their spears at her sides while the last one, a grey mare with cyan mane gave her a stern stare.

“I’ve seen pigs fly and had a snake tell me to talk to the fist, but a pegasus levitating a pony? That’s new.”

The mildly presented threat got through to Tender Feather despite her stupor.

In her panicked rush to get Greyscale to safety, Tender Feather had broken the most important rule for a changeling.

Unless you’re a hundred percent certain it will benefit you, or you can easily kill the witness, never EVER reveal yourself.

It could have been so easy - just grow a horn and lose the wings. A mere second of focus thanks to how much affection Greyscale’s friendship brought her, nothing more.

But…

...seeing him lying in a unreal pool of blood with a giant gaping hole in his side…

...made her panic.

The second mind... if it wasn’t for the second one Greyscale called ‘Stitches’ she would have done something stupid and killed him on the spot by sheer incompetence. However, after the short episode of rummaging in the upper layers of Greyscale’s brain Feather knew at least the name - Unfettered Curiosity.

A mind completely calm, precise, and calculating even while knocking on the death’s door.

With a deep breath, Tender Feather turned to face Grey Shrine watching her with narrowed eyes, and-

Unfettered had said nopony without the knowledge hidden in ancient books would understand the true predatory nature of a changeling. He had said a lot of things to keep Greyscale awake during the mad rush to the castle. Magic theories, math rules, history facts… anything, jumping from one subject to another just to keep going.

-in a burst of green flames transformed back into a changeling.

“A changeling,” growled Grey Shrine.

Feather froze. How? Unfettered had said he/she would pass as a curiosity, not an enemy. Grey Shrine, though, radiated animosity.

In a freezing and carefully controlled tone, Grey Shrine said:

“Are you responsible for Greyscale’s shape?”

Feather’s entire body revolted at the question, leaning backwards as if struck. The changeling, now a ‘he’ again, realized the truth. He cared for the slow pony he knew as Greyscale as a friend, not only as food.

Or maybe he was just addicted to the taste of real affection, not just lust and stolen love tainted by hypnosis and venom.

Whatever the answer was, he didn’t feel as if lying his way out of this was an option. A novel concept, but one worth trying.

“No,” he looked Grey Shrine firmly in the eyes, “I would never do anything this monstrous… at least not to him, unicorn. Your kind did this, not mine.”

“Then tell me everything.”

***

Pacing back and forth in front of the door to intensive care rooms, Grey Shrine’s mind was going in the same direction. One reason was that she had a potentially innocent changeling locked up in a cell guarded by some of her old acquaintances who owed her something from the good old days in the army. She couldn’t afford to leave this job to normal guards, not when she knew what a changeling was and that it could use mind control effects to an unspecified degree. However, if the creature was to be trusted, it couldn’t last down there much longer than a week before starving to death as it seemingly didn’t eat like a carnivore or a herbivore. That deadline was unpleasantly close now. On the other hoof, from its explanation of the situation she knew where the creature ‘hunted’ for prey and while she wasn’t exactly comfortable with the subject of ponies as food, Shrine had seen much worse things in her life than someone surviving purely on sex.

The other reason was the pony behind the door - Greyscale. Despite what he’d gone through, according to the doctors he would likely survive and today was the day they would stop keeping him in artificial sleep. She knew him, or at least she thought she did, but from what the changeling had said, some things she'd discovered in the asylum suddenly made a lot more sense. Greyscale was smart, he just got confused easily and some concepts avoided him completely. However, he had unwittingly outsmarted the one behind all this. Greyscale had never thought he was a real pony, and before Grey Shrine had simply waved it off as him knowing he was slower and simpler than others around him. The thing was that if what the changeling had said was true, then Greyscale had gotten much closer to reality than he thought.

A mare wearing a white coat opened the door to the intensive care unit.

“Grey Shrine?” she asked simply. She had seen the guardsmare visit daily over the past week, so the question was only a matter of protocol.

“Yes, I’m Grey Shrine.”

“Greyscale woke up asking for somepony called Tender Feather.”

“Tender Feather is… I know where she is. Before I can let her see Greyscale, I need to talk to him.”

The nurse nodded.

“Ten minutes, and don’t stress him out. He was terrified even of me when I went closer with a stethoscope.”

“I will be on my best behaviour.”

With another nod, the nurse walked away, and Grey Shrine entered the room, looking at the patient on the bed.

Greyscale was skinny after the week of infusions, although not as bad as the first time she had talked to him properly. His head twitched in her direction as the door clicked shut behind her. Her guard experience allowed her to notice the moment of panic which gave way to relief and soft, although a little worried smile. She didn’t hold it against him. After having an organ chopped out in the middle of the street by a unicorn, it made sense he would be scared of every sound. As he raised his thin foreleg and slowly waved at her, he looked so small, vulnerable, and fragile.

Despite all that…

He had recovered from clearly fatal wounds multiple times. He could work out rather ingenious solutions to problems on the spot. The problem was whether that was him, or what the changeling called the other mind.

Now, how to approach the subject?

“Hi,” she said.

“Helou, mem,” he croaked quietly. Infusions apparently did little to soothe dry throat.

“Greyscale, Greyscale,” she sighed as she sat down on the chair by his bed, “Why did you have to run off and do something stupid again?”

He looked down.

“Soree.”

She rubbed his forehead. Now that she focused on it, she could feel the tiniest bump where a unicorn horn would be.

“I’m not mad, just curious. Why did you run off from the asylum? What led to… this?”

Greyscale chuckled quietly to himself.

“Yoo nou mee, Aim not a smart ponee. Turns aut Aim not eevn woo Ai teenk Ai em… meybee. Ai dunno wai dey hurt mee. Ai deednt doo anyteenk, or Ai deed end kant remember. Ai dont nou, Aim soree.”

Shrine had seen criminals or ponies who would say anything just to get off the hook, and Greyscale didn’t feel like that. As if he genuinely had no idea why had the ‘attack’ happened and even despite that he could believe it was his fault somehow.

The problem was that both those things could be true.

“Before you ask, Tender Feather is locked in the dungeons.”

He tried to sit up, but her hoof on his chest stopped him.

“Wot, wai? She deednt do anyteeng.”

“Greyscale, she levitated you with a gaping hole in your side to the middle of castle courtyard. Then she transformed into a changeling in front of me and other two Royal Guards. I pulled a lot of strings to hush it up. If I didn’t know what I found out during the asylum incident, I would have let her go and would still be in the dark.”

“Shee seivd me end yoo lokked her up?” he asked without any malice, just confusion. He put his head on the pillow again,  “Steeches wos rite. Gaards wudnt be mai frends enymoar.”

“I AM your friend, Greyscale, which is why the changeling is not under any investigation or undergoing experiments. However,” Grey Shrine picked up the Nightguard plushie from the bedside table, “since you brought it up… who is Stitches, or as Feather said - Unfettered Curiosity?”

“Yor holdeeng Steeches. Woo dis Unfettered Curiosity ees Ai dont nou. Trekker end Strein hurt mee twais becuz dey thought Ai wos d ponee. Aiv nevr met anyponee laik det.”

“Greyscale, there are only two names I’ve heard you say properly. Yours, and Curiosity’s.”

“Ai dunno, mem. Ai reely dont. Meybee-”

Greyscale’s voice changed mid-sentence. The new one is cold and firm.

“Let me take care of this one, Greyscale.”

He looked at the plushie in Grey Shrine’s hooves.

“Okey, Steeches.”

“Good, now sleep. This conversation is private.”

“Okey.”

Grey Shrine, listening to the duality of the monologue leaned backwards as Greyscale closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again.

She met a new gaze, one she had hard time returning. Focused and evaluating her. However, there was more which her police sense uncovered - exhaustion and desperation.

“Unfettered Curiosity, I assume?” she asked.

Greyscale/Unfettered nodded.

Unsure about how to begin, Grey Shrine decided on the direct approach.

“Why are you pretending to be Greyscale?”

Unfettered chuckled to himself.

“Wrong assumption from the beginning,” he said in a lecturing tone, “Let me ask something first.”

Grey Shrine immediately disliked the ‘new’ pony, but wisdom and patience were the keys to solving this mystery.

“Alright.”

“Heh, gotta admit I wasn’t expecting that. Alright, here goes. Do you consider Greyscale a friend?”

“Less and less with every word you say, Greyscale,” she frowned.

To Shrine’s surprise, Unfettered simply nodded.

“I posed the question wrong. If the pony you know as Greyscale was real and I wasn’t, as they say, in the mix, would you consider him a friend?”

Once again, the academic precision caught Grey Shrine off guard. This didn’t feel like somepony trying to mess with her head. She nodded.

“Yes, I would. I used to be a soldier, and I did it not because I was a bloodthirsty mare, but because I wanted to protect ponies and that was the best way I could think off. Even after I was too old for the front line, I ended up in the Royal Guard. Greyscale needed me, and I believed he deserved my help,” Shrine stopped and facehoofed, “Well played, Unfettered. Well played.”

“Once again, wrong assumption from the beginning. I didn’t use you. Greyscale is real.”

“Hmm?” Shrine raised an eyebrow.

Unfettered tried to push himself into a sitting position, but gave up as his forelegs failed him and fell back on the pillow.

“Meh, at least it’s comfortable like this,” he sighed, “So, my name is- was Unfettered Curiosity. Some three months ago, I used to be a master’s degree student at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

“How old are you?” interrupted Shrine.

“Twenty-nine.”

“That’s a lot even for a master’s student.”

Unfettered nodded.

“I… made a lot of mistakes, which is where my problems started. You see, I wasn’t exactly good with ponies… at all. I could blame family problems or poor company when growing up, but I was just… a defect, I think. Don’t get me wrong, I was smart, but that came with a price. It made me judge every pony I met, see only their faults, and… always criticise,” Unfettered chuckled to himself again, “And let me tell you, professors hate to be told they’re wrong.”

“Everypony does.”

“Well those without egos the size of Celestia’s plot can freaking take it when they get PROVEN wrong!”

Grey Shrine couldn’t help cracking a smile at the outburst. Unfettered indeed was still young.

“I’ve seen this in the army. High ranks far too often think they are infallible. Giving them a contradictory proof just means another five hundred push-ups.”

“So, that’s who I was. All ponies I’ve ever met were like that, and there was nopony I could really… grow with. Somepony who could take criticism to heart and improve from it. In the same way, there was nopony willing to give constructive objections to myself. Everypony just… left. It must have been my fault somehow. I learned that stupid ponies who will remain stupid no matter what just were there to be used. However, it felt wrong to me. I knew it was the proper way to live with my skill, intelligence, and knowledge, but I just couldn’t keep going like that.”

“You certainly do have a high opinion of yourself.”

“Based only on results, Grey Shrine. You see, when I was alone and without anypony really wanting to bother with me, I had this brilliant idea to explore rather… controversial aspects of magic. I firmly believed- and I still believe that power is inherently neither good nor evil, it only depends on ponies how they use it. After all, some of the bloodiest massacres in our history were caused by ‘holy’ warriors.”

“In my experience, necromancers tend to be the bad guys,” Grey Shrine shuddered, “And fighting undead isn’t fun.”

“I didn’t exactly go for necromancy. I went for blood magic.”

“Oh dear. Were you expelled?”

“No. I was smart enough to keep it hidden and study in secret. My mentor didn’t like me too much for previously mentioned reasons so he ‘gave me my space’. I learned, experimented-”

“Whenever I hear ‘experimented’ in relation to dark magic, it never means anything good. I’ve seen a lab or two, and sometimes I even got out without throwing up.”

“I experimented only on myself. I would never do what I did to another pony. No, not even to a household pet, I like pets. Mostly cats.”

“I’m not a cat pony myself. Anyway, what went wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing went wrong. I was careful, analytical, and not insane. I wasn’t a crazy maniac needing power to feel good. I wanted knowledge, and I wanted the wizards to understand where they went wrong. I transformed myself in a way only blood magic can allow. High regeneration, resistance to bloodloss, everything a blood mage needs to fuel complex spells with his life force. Blood, in less theatrical terms.”

“If nothing went wrong then why are we here?”

“Nothing external went wrong, or everything went wrong. Both are valid explanations.”

“You lost me there.”

“I realized that I was much smarter than everypony around me. They all had decades of memorized spells and arcane knowledge, but I worked out what made them crap their pants on my own. At a certain point, I realized that no matter what miracles I could perform using blood magic I would never pass anything past a peer review. You see, they pride themselves on being the advancement of magic, but they are the exact opposites - stuck up slaves to tradition and superstition who don’t understand that all they fear is their own lack of discipline when faced with the power they could gain. Great power corrupts weak minds, which is what they are.”

“So you’re saying it didn’t change you.”

“No, which was the problem. I could never cast away my principles and embrace the secret potential completely,” Unfettered scratched his head, “Well, maybe I went a little crazy. Aaaanyway, in the end I realized several things. One, I was the problem. I couldn’t change the broken world. Two, I wasn’t happy. Once I knew everything I uncovered was for nothing, I couldn’t get excited about research anymore or happy when I found something new. And three, as you noticed, I’m few years older than master’s students usually are. I borrowed a lot of money to get myself through my studies, and in the end I knew I would have no chance to pay it back. Unfortunately, when I borrowed the first bits to pay for the first semester not paid from public funding, I was still engrossed in my research and chose… the wrong lender.”

“Tracker and Strain.”

Unfettered nodded and his determined expression turned bitter.

“I suppose they are some goons hired by the shady guys who lent me the bits and didn’t ask many questions. They were the only ponies who would even think of lending money to me. No banks even gave it a second thought.”

“That’s bad...”

“Considering they ripped out Greyscale’s kidney under a stasis spell in the middle of a soundproofed and masked alley, I have to call you captain Obvious.”

“I’m not the one owing money to some sort of mafia.”

“Point taken.”

“Still, how does Greyscale fit into this? Since you said I was wrong when I thought you were pretending to be him.”

“You see, I had all this debt, a lot of power over my body, and no hope for the future. If I got lucky, I would end in prison for debt, and if I wasn't so fortunate... well, they found Greyscale. I chose to double down on all I did until then and borrowed more for one final semester. I used the time I gained to study the pony brain. If I couldn’t fix the broken world, I had to break myself so that I would fit at least somewhere.”

“Come on. Was there nopony you could ask for help?”

“WHO? My family? Oh hey, I’m several hundred thousand bits in debt, got any cash? That would go well,” Unfettered shook his head, “No, I was on my own, alone, like always. Over half a year of doing nothing but studying old grimoires and the newest published medical discoveries, I successfully used blood magic to alter a brain. It’s normally extremely difficult to use magic on oneself like that, but that’s because it is an external effect. At that point, my body was already infused enough to make the changes from the inside. See, dissolve a neural path here, add a protein string there. I did something thought completely impossible - I rebuilt myself into somepony else.”

“Then why are you here as you?”

“Blood magic allows the user to hide his entire being within blood without the requirement of a working brain which is what I needed in order to operate on mine from the inside. After all, it wouldn’t end well if I lost all my memories halfway through the process. So, I took away what I considered the worst of myself. Actually, what I considered the best, but I knew was wrong for this world. Some intelligence had to go, memories… of course, my inability to trust anypony, and my tendency to criticise and judge. I dissolved more and more, chipped away at everything that made me myself.”

“And created Greyscale.”

“Somepony who would be able to trust others, able to appreciate what I consider mundane, focus mostly on the good in them, and maybe… make a friend at some point. I would stay behind for a while to maybe lend a helping hoof if it was really necessary, and after a short time I would… be gone, leaving only him making the world a better place in his own insignificant way. Like cleaning for others, or something simple like that.”

“What about the speech, was it to make him feel more vulnerable? Was it all planned out?”

Unfettered scratched his head, looking uncertain for the first time.

“Two minds in one body do have few unexpected side-effects. Once I’m gone, Greyscale’s speech should clear up, if only a little.”

“And the debt?”

“Physical change of colour, loss of cutie mark, sawing my own horn off. On top of that, I arranged an alchemical bomb to go off in my school study. Unfettered Curiosity died in that incident, or… you know… at some point close enough.”

“I hate to point it out again, but you are still here.”

“Not for long. I thought I had more time to help Greyscale, but all the wounds I had to heal… the burns after your shoddy barracks construction caught on fire, the accident in the asylum, resistance to mind-controlling chemicals, and now this. I thought I had a year to see if I screwed up somewhere or if I was wrong in my assumption about how Greyscale would get by. Now I have few days at most.”

“Can you cure a lost kidney?”

“No. Not anymore. If I had a lab, some life expectancy, and access to the Royal Library like in the old days, I probably could minimize the effects. With my power fading rapidly, I can’t do anything about Greyscale’s shortened life expectancy.”

“I would be a terrible guardspony if I took only your word about your shape as a proof.”

“You can’t do anything relevant to me,” Unfettered smiled, “I don’t feel what Greyscale does unless I’m in control. You could BORE me, but that’s the extent of it. Anything you would do would affect Greyscale only. In few days, even that won’t matter.”

“Once again, proof?”

Unfettered shook his head.

“Then we’re at a stalemate. I don’t have what you want, and I don’t care about anything you can do.”

“You don’t care about the stick, what about the carrot? I can do something nice for Greyscale.”

“Still doesn’t matter. It’s much easier to think about things as if I don’t exist at this point. It’s up to you what you choose to do. It’s for him, not for me.”

“Tell me one thing, Unfettered.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think your experiment was a success?”

“Considering this situation and the reason why Greyscale is still alive… yes, I did.”

“No doubts?”

“He is a better pony than I ever could become.”

“I will have to put you under observation as well as the changeling.”

He shrugged.

“Fine by me. Too bad you’re screwing them out of a pretty nice job at the brothel. I haven’t touched as much ass in my life as Greyscale had on his first day. Maybe I could ask him to give me an hour or two…?”

“I will arrest you immediately.”

“Pfff, fine. Do you want to know anything else?”

“Honestly, not really. I’ll have to keep an eye on you no matter what.”

“Then I think I’ll let Greyscale take over and… sleep.”

“I hate to bring this up, but you DO realize that they won’t stop hunting Greyscale, and if he turns to the law, the debt will have to be paid by your family, right? Death isn’t a waiver to do anything you want.”

Unfettered buried his muzzle into the pillow.

“...I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this one. I don’t know...”

He froze as Grey Shrine put her hoof on his head.

“Law is here to protect ponies.”

Unfettered couldn’t help himself to look up, wet patches around his eyes.

“Really? I thought you are here to enforce whatever the major power players paid politicians to push through the legislative process so that they could rob small ponies.”

“Don’t push me!”

“Sorry.”

“I am here to protect ponies.”

“I’ll… have to… setlle for that...” his eyes rolled back and he went limp for a moment.

Grey Shrine waited until a he rose back up, once again with the familiar faint smile and slightly unfocused stare.

“Greyscale.”

“Did yoo end Steeches hev a chat?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Hees a nais plushee.”

“In a way. He’s somepony very smart, who did something incredibly stupid.”

The door to the emergency room opened, the nurse peeking inside.

“Time’s up. You need to let the patient rest.”

“Awww...” muttered Greyscale.

Grey Shrine patted Greyscale’s head.

“She’s right. Rest, get better. We’ll talk later. Don’t worry, nopony will hurt you here,” she stood up to leave, but stopped after few steps, “Oh, and if Stitches tells you to do something again, for the love of the Sun please consult it with me no matter what. It hurts me when I see you like this.”

“Ai dont wont to hurt yoo, mem.”

“I know,” she smiled and left.


EPILOGUE


Tracker woke up and groaned when light from above blinded him. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t move at all.

“You got both of them? I’m shocked,” he heard a familiar female voice. A head peeked into his field of vision. It was the pegasus who saw him and Strain give Unfettered Curiosity his first warning.

What was she doing here? Where was here? What happened last night?

Wait, both of them?

“I had a little help,” said a much older female voice, one Tracker couldn’t recognize.

“The unicorn did resist at first, but after I melted his horn off it was rather easy,” a new voice, likely belonging to a young colt, explained.

Horn? Wait, HIS HORN!

Tracker panicked. He couldn’t summon his magic at all.

“What a waste,” said a new, muffled male voice, “Powdered unicorn horns are absurdly valuable as alchemical components.”

“Speaking of value,” said the mature mare, “Will these two cover your expenses, your silence, and three hundred thousand bits of debt?”

“My examination showed that the earthpony drinks somewhat, but the unicorn is in an excellent shape. If I disassemble them completely, it should be enough. There are buyers for everything. You do realize what that means, though, right?” asked the stallion.

Disassemble? Tracker’s mind was running a mile a minute.

“Don’t worry, doctor. I’ll make sure nopony looks for them, or you for that matter.”

Tracker’s rush of adrenaline allowed him to turn his head. He tried to scream, but could barely groan again.

On a second metal table next to him lay Strain, unconscious, with a white cloth over his whole barrel.

Some surgery?

He finally recalled something - fire. Last night, he met… a mare with a colt… and then the colt turned into fire, and everything was pain.

“Hey, this guy is moving,” he heard the pegasus.

“I must be losing my touch,” frowned the ‘doctor’, “two chemical mishaps in two weeks? Pff. Aaaanyway...”

Tracker, regaining control of at least his head, turned it just in time to see the doctor levitate a needle and jam it into his neck.

He immediately lost all control, and the edges of his vision went darker and darker. The last thing he saw was a scalpel effortlessly slicing his chest open.

“Welcome to the chop shop,” said the good doctor.