//------------------------------// // 16: Onwards to heroism! // Story: An Exercise In Management // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// I wake up. No one is around? Why? Dizzy, I get off of the bed. No one in the bedroom, no one in the living room- “Eight? Three?” -no one in the hall or the kitchen. Only two green, bioluminescent cocoons are hanging from the ceiling of the cellar. “Oh, wait… why am I panicking?” I’m still not sure if changelings can sweat, but I wipe my forehead off nonetheless. Everything is fine, I’m just nervous what with being in the middle of enemy territory and so on. With that in mind, I return to the living room, careful not to venture too close to any windows. All the curtains are drawn, but caution is a must in a situation like this, Alright, rewind, and focus. The light is dimming outside, which means Eight and Three are likely finishing off their police duties, Ten must be either waking up or getting a ‘snack’ in a bar before Slipstream’s night shift, and I’m here inside Truncheon’s house just like in the past four days, alone... ...and kinda bored now that the waking panic has worn off. “What to do? What to do?” I’ve got just enough love not to be hungry. After the last time the hive mind drained me completely, I decided to keep both Eight and Three primed and filled as much as possible. Three was easy, actually, and after two days of Ten and Eight hunting in both Wet Soil bars he had so much love he could burst. Eight, though, was a bottomless hole as far as I could sense. Ten… he was actually a good reference point as an average changeling infiltrator and showed me how foolish my idea really was. What meant ‘topped off’ for Three and ‘rather full’ for myself, also meant ‘a barely sustaining meal’ for a normal changeling like him, and 'narrowly avoiding starvation’ for someone like Eight. I thought my new body was made for storing love, but clearly that either isn’t the case, or it’s got waaaaays to go still. I just don’t know enough. Eight said I had queen-like, or king-like abilities, but I don’t feel like it whatsoever. Aside from the mind-sharing thing or hijacking a changeling’s eyes and ears I feel… like a drone. I don’t know how to fight and I can’t shapeshift. All I can do is carry stuff like I used to. “If only the damn hive mind was useful for something more than insane screaming and sucking me dry,” I shake my head and lie down on the couch, “Maybe I could learn something. But noooo, it’s always BREED, COCOON PONIES, FIGHT, AND FEAST! If that’s the combined experience and will of changelings long gone then I’m not surprised the others settled for a drone who had a revolutionary idea that sticking together, listening to others, and not dying to be their leader.” Anyway… since the best I can do right now is have a look at the others, let’s go for it. Connecting with Eight is the easiest, and when I open ‘my’ eyes again, I’m somewhere completely different. The door to the police station slams open, and a breathless earthpony stumbles inside. “The adventurers are causing trouble in the bar. You have to come help!” he gasps. “Changeling hunters?” asks Eight and gives a sideways glance to Three who quickly backs off behind a corner leading to the office with a stack of papers he’s carrying. “I don’t know, just some armed ponies. Come on, fast! They’re drunk and they’re breaking stuff.” “Alright, let’s go,” Eight turns her head, “Glowstick, get behind the desk and if somepony comes tell them where I am.” Three trots out from his cover, hops onto the receptionist desk chair, puts the stack of papers down, and salutes. “Will do!” “Which bar?” barks Eight at the pony. “The Swamp Mug.” “Right, out of the way,” she whizzes past the pony and into the evening streets of Wet Soil. She’s lightning fast. I’ve never noticed, but whenever she can gallop in a straight line, she can clear a whole street within seconds. What’s more interesting is that while when I go a bit faster everything is blurry, she sees her surroundings with complete clarity. Warriors, seriously. Next time I should examine how Ten sees the world a bit more in detail. In less than five minutes, she’s on the other side of town, kicking the door open, and drawing the official truncheon with her mouth. The crack of wood against the inside wall stops the commotion in the bar, every head turning towards her. “Whuh gnng on hrr?” she spits the truncheon out and grabs it with her fetlock, “What’s going on here?” “T-t-the b-bartender refused to serve them more b-beer- EEK!” explains a shaky waitress hiding behind an upturned table close to the entrance. She hides again as one of the armed ponies shoots her a glance. “Heeeeeey,” starts one of the five ponies in light armors, “You’re the policepony here, right? We’re here to bring the captured changeling to Canterlot for bounty.” They fan out around Eight, stepping over the broken tables and chairs as carefully as their drunk asses can. Eight examines each one, trying to buy some time to figure out her next step. “On whose authority? The changeling is already in the hooves of the local peacekeeping force.” “You?” a grey pegasus bounty hunter in leather vest pokes Eight’s chest, “In what shape does the bug have to be to stay locked up by YOU, heh.” Eight grabs his foreleg. “Assaulting a police officer, property damage, and,” she looks behind him at several earthponies bleeding from their muzzles, “attacking civilians or whatever that crime is called. Are you going to let yourself get arrested willingly?” “Hey, this guy thinks he’s in the big league. Let’s show him-” Eight flicks her fetlock holding the pegasus’. CRUNCH! “-ah aaaaaaah?” The pegasus pales, stumbling backwards in shock while looking at his fetlock clearly attached only by tendons to this foreleg at this point. In the background, hiding at the corner table, the Mayor hugging his wife facehoofs. The biggest earthpony, brown and wearing a chainmail, bares his teeth. “You messed with the wrong-” One punch. Broken muzzle. Teeth rattling on the floor. Eight doesn’t stop there, lunging behind the earthpony. It makes sense in the next second when something invisible hits the wounded bounty hunter from the side. Eight drops onto the floor, then slides under the collapsing earthpony’s legs, pouncing forward at the unicorn member of the group, his horn still glowing after the cast spell. Eight rears on her hind legs, her foreleg flashes green, and I see the growing horror in the unicorn’s eyes. The right hook connects with the unicorn’s horn. Everyone watches the sharp bone bounce away from the wall. The last two bounty hunters realize they aren’t drunk enough to try to challenge the whirlwind of pain and crippling wounds that’s Eight, and drop their weapons. “I want you out of the town within an hour. I don’t care if you have to CRAWL through the swamp or leave a bloody trail all the way back to Canterlot, but I’ll take one extra patrol tonight, and if I see you again… I’ll stomp your balls to paste.” I can feel her tense up as the two untouched, at least physically, bounty hunters help the other three up, and carefully shuffle past Eight and out through the door. “Don’t you DARE touch somepony unable to fight back ever again, filth.” A random pony cautiously claps his hooves together. More clapping, this time from multiple sources. Thunderous clapping and stomping. Eight smiles as the sudden wave of adoration and some added lust from the shocked mares crashes against her. So this is a real top ranked warrior… ...she’s only rank eight, and without that much love. Note to self - don’t make her mad.