Summoning all my remaining strength, I wobble up the cellar stairs, open the door unceremoniously with my patented face smash, and almost fall back down, gasping for breath.
Eight, beaming and spry despite her belly stretched to four times her normal slim size waltzes by. She desperately needs a shower, or maybe some acid bath to clean all the wet and already dried up stuff all over herself. Damn, considering how I stink, so do I.
“We’ll have to work or your stamina, King. I’m not bursting yet,” she nuzzles my neck, “But not bad for a first try,” humming, she opens the door to the bathroom, “Note to self, next time get him a whip- no, a lead pipe! Hnnngh… yessss...”
“Holy queen’s holes, she's crazy,” I mutter and stop myself, “Wait… no holes… no more holes...”
Do I call for Three to carry me off onto the couch? I don’t think I can make it there by myself.
As I poke my head into the living room, I see the drone sleeping on the floor, using a hole in his foreleg as a crayon holder, and drooling into his colouring book.
“...alright, I guess I’m in this on my own...” I sigh, shuffling and stumbling as quietly as I can towards the couch.
At least I don’t feel bloated to bursting anymore, and the hive pile is quiet. It must be early morning, which means we’ve been down there for at least eight hours. Eight hours full of Eight.
I collapse on the soft padding...
...and here it is, my sleep, by which I mean my floating consciousness. Can’t I simply shut down anymore? I could really use some good old deep rest.
Alright, I guess there is something still bothering me. Let’s check up on Ten to see what he did with the “escaped changeling”.
Ten limps into the town hall, vision hazy. The receptionist, a young unicorn mare, scowls.
“What is it, Slipstream?” then her attitude changes completely all of a sudden, and I can feel a small trickle of curious and yet warm interest flow from her to Ten, “I mean, good to see you,” she looks Ten up and down, “What happened? You look terrible.”
“I’d like to talk to the Mayor, please, if he’s already in. If not, I can pass out here until he’s back no problem.”
The receptionist mare chuckles, walking over to Ten. As he follows her circling around him, I can finally see the shape Ten is in. He’s not wearing his armor, so the cuts and bruises all over Slipstream’s body are visible. His neck is bandaged, with bloodstains covering it, same goes for his hips and the thighs of his hind legs.
“What happened to you?”
Ten looks from side to side, then whispers:
“Have you heard about the captured changeling?”
The mare gulps and nods.
“It escaped.”
She whimpers.
“Don’t worry,” Ten pats her head, “I chased it and killed it,” he shakes a bag on his back, “This is for the Mayor. Some remains so that he can decide what to do with them, whether to give them to some doctor for examination or something else.”
“Eeew,” the mare steps away, “I-I think I can fit you in right now. Just give me a second.”
“Can I… can I sit down somewhere where ponies won’t see this?” he shakes his bag.
“Oh- Oh yes, sure,” she nods at Ten, “Come with me. There’s a bench in the Mayor’s waiting room.”
She leads him upstairs where Ten slumps down onto a padded bench while the mare slips into the Mayor’s office.
One quick moment later, she walks out and gestures at Ten to go inside. With a grunt and a hiss of pain, Ten obliges, leaving the receptionist behind. To my surprise, the Mayor is already behind his desk this early, and accompanied by his pegasus wife who tilts her head as Ten enters. There’s something off about her, and I can’t make out what. What I DO notice is the mare’s lipstick smeared on the side of the Mayor’s neck.
“Inkwell said you had something important to tell me about the captured changeling,” the Mayor starts.
Ten tosses the gory bag on the carpet, grunting in pain again.
“I regret to inform you that he- it escaped. I think your visit agitated it, and the fact that I shackled its legs to the wall wasn’t enough.”
“You mean to tell me there’s a changeling running around, Slipstream?!”
The Mayor is clearly upset, while his wife looks… mildly amused?
“No, sir,” Ten points to his wounds, “I found it escaping through the window after I returned from dropping Glowstick off back at Truncheon’s house. It… it must have faked its state, because it bolted right out faster than I thought it could. I chased it out into the swamp where it turned on me,” Ten frowns, “I know I’m not a great fighter… I couldn’t knock it out and bring it back, it was just too feral. However, I wounded it, an in its rage it got caught in the shallows and sucked underground. I brought you back some pieces of its armor, so you can show it to a doctor or something and we can learn more about these creatures.”
“That’s quite… admirable,” the Mayor blinks. His wife leans to his ear and whispers something, “Right, right, can I see the bag?”
“Of course,” Ten salutes, and brings the bag closer. The Mayor examines it, slowly going green, then covers his mouth, “Blurrgh...”
His wife takes out a piece of chitinous chestplate, looks at it, then at Ten, then she nods and puts it back. Thankfully, Ten had the foresight to put the bandages on different parts of his body than from where the bits he just gave to the ponies were from. That also means he must be in crippling pain despite the transformation. I think he deserves some more love for this, although I don’t think I have any spare after Eight… don’tthinkaboutit…
“She’s got the right idea,” says the Mayor’s wife, “I’ll take this to Clean Cut immediately. I also think Slipstream here deserves a commendation, don’t you?”
“For letting the changeling escape?” the Mayor frowns.
“Come on, darling,” she rubs his head with her wing, “We woke the creature up when we wanted to see it despite her warning, and you know how little funding our police duo gets. I think they might be in for a little raise, considering their recent... unusually exemplary service record.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“With all due respect, can I go now? I need to lie down, and I still have a report to fill,” Ten blinks, gently swaying in place.
“Hun, will you lead our brave policepony out?” asks the Mayor.
“Of course. I’ll take the… ugh, bag to Clean Cut as I said. See you later,” she blows him a kiss.
The Mayor smiles and nods as the two leave.
“Excellent job, Slipstream,” she pats Ten with her wing, “I’d advise you to go to the doctor, but I get the feeling all you want to do now is have a rest.”
“You’re right, ma’am,” he salutes again, and leaves the mare behind him.
”Hey, Ten?”
“...mhmm?”
”Stop by. I don’t have much love, but I can spare what little I have. That way the hive pile won’t have anything to steal from me at least.”
“...that’s okay, I’ve still got a reasonable amount. I just need time to process it...” he yawns, “Damn, I could use a day off...”
”Good night, Ten.”
“...night...”
With that, I leave the stumbling changeling on his way to the station and then home.
Now I realize the worry because of which I wasn’t able to sleep was Ten’s, not my own. Strange. Even stranger, though, was the fact that when I tapped into him, he calmed down. Unlike Eight or Three, he can sense me, and while I thought he’d be annoyed, it seems like just my presence actually helped.
However, with that sorted out, I can finally do what I told Ten to do - sleep.
Good, old, relaxing, sl-
…
…
…
I hear something, just on the edge of consciousness, but it’s there. I also immediately know it’s not Eight, Ten, or Three, because I am fully aware of their locations. Eight is at the police station, and Ten is coming here to drop Three off. Huh, I must have slept for almost two days.
Creaking. Hoofsteps. A gasp.
Alright, awake and all legs accounted for. Jumping out in three… two… one…
Go!
“AH?!” comes from…
…the closest of the ten or so ponies surrounding the couch. From the corner of my eye, I see more of them in the hallway.
”Eight! EIGHT! HELP ME!”
I send her a little flash of what’s going on. She’s the strongest, and the easiest one to reach for some reason.
The ponies fan out, each one taking a step or two backwards. There’s the Mayor, his wife, one of the farmers whom Eight brutalized in the police station cellar - the nice one, some vaguely familiar ponies from the bar brawl Eight broke up, and many more. Now that I can see clearly, I count fifteen, and a lot of them are armed. Granted, mostly with pitchforks, clubs, or levitating knives, but in those numbers they won’t need proper weapons.
That’s a lot of ponies staring at me…
“Ehm, good job fitting all of you in here...”
Why did I say that? Well, at least now it’s clear they can’t bash my brain out because I clearly don’t have one.
“Who are you?” asks the Mayor, “I mean which one are you, Truncheon or Slipstream?”
His wife whispers something into his ear, and I lose sight of her as she leaves into the main hallway.
“Neither one,” there’s no reason to play out this charade. They clearly know about us. We screwed up at some point. What now, what now? Come ooooon, Eight, where are you? I need a real adult here.
“Do you always look like that?” asks the Mayor, nodding towards me.
“Like what? The chitin and the holes are kinda mandatory.”
“No, I’ve seen only one changeling before you, and it wasn’t so… sticky.”
I realize I’m still covered in green goo all over. I didn’t have time or energy to take a shower after I was… finally released from the cellar.
“Eheh,” I scratch my head, “That’s kinda Eight’s job.”
To my amazement and creeping horror, somepony from the back cheers.
“Who is Eight?”
Should I tell him? I might as well. Eight is either coming here to help, or she didn’t get the message… or she’s fleeing the town. They know Slipstream and Truncheon are changelings by now, so I guess there’s no point in covering.
“My… companion posing as Truncheon. How did you discover that something was off?”
I hear the door slam open, and the heads of the crowd turn around.
“AAAAAAH!” I hear Ten’s scream.
-Come.-
Wh- what was that?
Ten, his disguise gone, is led into the living room by Mayor’s wife and two other ponies.
“Hey, boss! There’s a bunch of ponies here,” Three in his changeling form as well is riding on the back of the undisturbed pegasus mare.
“Hun, what are you doing?” asks the Mayor, looking at his wife and the changeling on her back playing with the gold chain around her neck.
“You remember Glowstick, don't you? That little guy was a changeling too,” her wing rolls up, poking the drone, “The chitin feels rather strange, but it’s a living creature, albeit somewhat alien.”
“Hello!” Three waves at the Mayor, beaming. I wish I had his positivity.
I feel the strange daze lift from Ten, who turns his head from side to side, rears backwards, and with a cry of-
“I’m a lover, not a fighter!”
-rushes towards a window and jumps.
He is kicked backwards mid-air as the window shatters an instant before that, and Truncheon surrounded by a torrent of green fire crashes through it first, transforming into Eight. The flames swirl around her forelegs, forming chitinous saw blades just above her fetlocks. She lands, carefully dodging Ten under her hooves, and charges through ponies towards me. At the end of the two seconds which passed since her grand entrance, she’s standing with her back to me and growling at the now significantly wider half-circle of ponies in the room.
Eight bares her teeth like a brutal and feral beast.
“Touch my King, and I’ll make you eat your foals’ heads on spikes.”