Equestria Delivery

by JLB

Bonus Chapter: Infestation

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Hot wind slowly flowed through the wide open windows, dissipating in the cool air produced by unicorns at each end of the hotel’s foyer. Three dense lines of ponies gradually moved up the stairs and to the elevators, each passing through crystalline security gates. The foyer was filled with a low rumble of voices, guards passing orders along, ponies in the lines murmuring between each other, with each being questioned before proceeding through the gates. Frequent grunts and yelps came from the sidelines, where separate queues lined up to ponies in white with red cross markings on their armor.

The door burst open, letting in a team of white-armored troopers carrying a row of stretchers. The shield guards ushered the crowd to split up as the stretchers were rolled through the foyer into a side hall. The magical blur bubbles surrounding the stretchers covered up equine figures, most of which still moved.

“Sweet Celestia, are we still getting stragglers?” a white earthen stallion murmured before biting into a donut. He stood up from his seat and looked out the window overlooking the queues. “This is a bit much.”

“I thought we got out as many as we could.” Another stallion, an older fuschia-pink pegasus with a bloodstained bandage around his head, limped over to the window. He pressed his forehead against it, wincing and exhaling sharply. “The bugs got out of control… it happened too fast. Thought it was best to cut our losses. I didn’t think anyone else was going to make it out. Tough luck, I guess.”

“You did more than we could ask of you, mister…” The younger stallion frowned and scratched the back of his head. “Vice?”

The pink stallion turned away from the window and sat down on a couch, rubbing his eyes with his forehooves. “Yeah. Vice Purger. Police Commissioner… Carol City. So much for my damn vacation.” The gilded star-shaped badge on his beige uniform dangled as he slouched, half its clippings missing. “You’re here with the reinforcement team, aren’t you, kid?”

“Huh. I’m from Carol City, too.” The police pony smiled and nodded, rubbing his wing. The white stallion downed a cup of coffee and shuddered, bits of his brown mane landing over his eyes. “I just got transferred here. It looks pretty bad.”

“They send you Emergency Situation guys into all sorts of knee-deep shit, don’t they, these assholes?” Vice spat on the rug, leaving a reddish mark. “It’s bad enough they let things get so bad we need you. When I was your age, things were fine. No bugs. No fear. No riots. No meal-mouthed teen on the throne.” The pegasus growled, rubbing a bandaged wing with a hoof. “I’m real sorry you have to go out there and deal with this, kid. Guys like you should be on the force, keeping peace like normal ponies used to, not marching out in armor, fixing what these idiots broke down.”

The earth pony bit his lip and scraped a hoof against the stubble on his chin. He looked away from the police pony, glancing over at the other troopers gathered by a map on the other side of the room, beyond several meters of tangled wires connecting loudly humming crystals to radio equipment lined up on tables. Loud, piercing sounds came out of the headphones placed on empty chairs, audible even over the voices coming from the foyer.

“You know how I know it’s worse than usual? There’s nothing about San Fran on the news yet. All the other riots, the news would already be out,” the younger stallion said, still looking at the map of the city. “This time, it’s like they’ve all gone and forgotten how to write.”

“That’s because it’s no riot, kid. This isn’t bugs demanding we give them half the city, or stuck-up pricks complaining that allowing bugs to wear disguises is bad, or what have you. I guess they know what’s going to happen if Equestria finds out what’s really going on in there. We’ve been on a hair trigger since '04.” Vice sighed. “I’m an honest police pony, but this is too far gone for truth. You’re going to go out there, fix this shit, and then they’ll make it sound better than what it really is. It makes me sick, but that’s what we need right now. I’d rather lies than this kind of truth. I’ve no idea what’s really going on in there - I just know it’s bad, and I know Equestria doesn’t take it well when things are bad.”

“This’ll be one serious cover-up. The refugees haven’t been shy about telling us… stuff,” the trooper said, rubbing the back of his neck. “If even half of it is true, I mean… The changelings aren’t going to be having a very good time once Equestria finds out what’s been being cooked up this whole time.”

“You’ve got brains, kid. You see now? The Wedding War never ended just because the Princess signed some stupid pact. None of the troopers stationed here want to give me the time of day, you know. Like I’m a blank space. Maybe I wasn’t in charge of San Fran’s police, but I was there.” Vice hit the couch with a forehoof. “This isn’t mass changeling hysteria. They’ve turned into animals.”

“What, is the Princess’ new brew that bad?” the earth pony asked.

“That’s the story your commanders are going with, huh? So you do have your heads on straight. It's way too fitting that it’s that purple dumbass making things worse again. I mean, it'd make a lot of sense… but I’m not sure.” The pegasus shuffled on the couch and shook his head. “I’m no fan of the bugs myself, but I swear, thinking back, it makes me sick. They don’t stop, they don’t think, their eyes are like glass… They're all feral, glowing green.” He threw his head back and shut his eyes. “Who knows? Maybe this is their true nature. Maybe this is who they are. Just a bunch of stupid animals, and we’ve let them in, let them feel welcome. So they sit there, waiting until they’re told what to do, and how to do it. No will of their own, just masks they put on to fool us until they hear their masters’ call.”

“The Queen’s been dead for years.” The earth pony paused. “Maybe with the Princess’ invention, they’ll finally do like they promised and start blending in at large.”

“I’d like to be able to tell myself that, kid. I can tell you don’t believe any of that for a moment, though. The little ones, with the glassy eyes, they don’t know how to use their brains. They lose control, go feral, they don't even know what they need for food - they go mad. But you’ve been out there, you know what the big, smart ones are like. Like the ones your guys had to hunt while they still thought to call this a war. Those are cunning animals. And they learn from each other’s mistakes, mark my words. They’ll bring us destruction and violence. I mean, fuck!” The police pony raised his voice. “They already have! Riots in the streets, morons lynching after the bugs trying to scrape by, other bugs pressing down on ponies, it’s never been like this!”

“That’s why we’re here.” The stallion hung his head.

“You’ve seen the skyline, do you think this looks fine? Yeah, you don’t. You don’t have to look me in the eyes, I know you know. Now we’ll just have to rely on you to go in there and clean this mess up.”

The earth pony rolled his eyes and got up, grunting and flexing his neck.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Vice called out.

“Uh… Thorn,” the earth pony answered, taking a look at the stallion on the couch. “Shield Corporal Thorn Coat.”

“Don’t get yourself killed for nothing out there, Thorn.”

He yawned and waved to the police pony before trotting away, stepping over the wires on the floor. Having made his way there, he patted the troopers on their shoulders, exchanging hoof-shakes when they turned around.

Thorn finished a half-empty cup of coffee that stood on the table by the map, his eyes focused on the image of the city, covered in cyan crosses, hashes and a number of blue dots. There were letters and numbers by each dot, reading ‘GW1’, ‘GW2’, ‘DC1’, ‘DC2’. His eyes lingered on the dot that read ‘DC2’, making up the right side in the trapezoid formed by the blue dots. It was an apartment building near a hospital.

The trooper’s forehoof traced a line between the blue dots, eventually landing on a thick blue cross on the outskirts of the city, marked ‘REFINERY’. Around it were lines of numerical estimates, most of them crossed out, some underlined and followed by exclamation marks. Faint outlines of numerous blue lines drawn from the dots to the cross remained on the map. The stallion rubbed a hoof against one and groaned after it remained almost completely intact. On the empty space to the sides of the map, ‘IMPROVISE’ was written in bold blue marker.

Thorn left the room and headed down past the elevator, passing next to a pair of unicorn troopers that were holding off a civilian family of five. When they turned their attention to him and began to shout in an incoherent choir, he raised his forehooves and shook his head. Thorn pushed with his shoulder, forcing a bright blue magical barrier to disappear, letting him enter the stairway. It came back after he went up half a flight.

A pegasus air trooper stood by the tall, wide-open windows, a smokestick in his mouth, forehooves hanging down the railing. The city was visible in the distance, emitting cyan smoke.

“Learn anything new?” Thorn asked.

“Nothing useful, just a whole lot of bullshit. I hate civvie duty, I swear,” the pegasus replied, grimacing. “Wacked out punks, all of them. Almost got my face bitten off today… Feeling like it’s these ponies who need potions to stay normal, not the bugs. Bugs are like… whatever.”

“I don’t know, honestly. Hard to blame them for losing it, even when I’m down there and they’re throwing rocks at me. I mean, these past few years…” Both troopers hung their heads. “You’d think things would get easier after we got used to life after the Crystal Empire. Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I just hope the changelings quit pretending. You get these friendly types who praise us up and down and tell us how shit life was with the Queen. My lunch always wants out when I hear that bullcrap.” The air trooper kicked his hoof. “You sure you don’t want to pass up your spot? I’d rather be out there than dealing with these San Franciscolt punks.”

“Nah. I’m fine, thanks for the offer. I go out now, and they’ll let me take a break. Something tells me we won’t be able to do this nice and clean. There’ll be emergency situations all over Equestria, if you catch my drift.”

“Yeah, well, at least we’ll get more action and less bullshit. Don’t get lost on the way to the hangar.”

Thorn shrugged after the pegasus bumped his shoulder with a hoof. He walked up the stairs, stopping on the second floor, where two troopers in white were wrestling with a teenage white unicorn. The stallion tilted his head and rubbed the back of his head, slowly approaching the scene.

The mare was frothing at her mouth, blood streaming through her pierced bottom lip, which she kept chewing. Tears streamed down her tattooed cheeks, ruining her already damaged corpse makeup. There was blood at different stages of drying on her striped purple and black socks. She was covered in bandaged cuts and bruises, a purple-and-read heart locked banging against her chest as her body struggled against the medics. The teen screamed incoherently in a scratchy, high-pitched voice. Her bloodshot green eyes were shrunk down to pinprick size, looking at neither of the doctors.

One of the troopers was holding her back, gripping her long, dyed purple hair, while the other was pressing down on her hooves, trying to get a syringe into her neck. Both had fresh bruises on their faces, and the one holding her mane was bleeding from his forehead.

Thorn stepped towards the commotion just as the doctor managed to push the needle into the teen. She was silenced mid-scream, eyes rolling back, body going limp. He raised a hoof and opened his mouth, to which the doctors gestured an all-clear. Thorn looked away from the unicorn, shuddering. His ears flicked as he raised a hoof to his chin, slowly turning back. He looked again to the collapsed unicorn and began to raise a hoof as she was carried away. His hoof came back down as he shook his head and kept climbing the stairs.

Four flights later, Thorn made his way through the door to the roof, dissipating another barrier along the way. He caught his breath, wiping sweat off his face with a hoof. Shielding his eyes against the sun, the stallion made his way to a tent next to the makeshift hangar. He went past a line of lockers, navigating to the one that with the picture of a gate covered in brambles. The door opened once he approached, revealing a heavy tower shield with hoof straps and crystals attached to its sides.

He put his left foreleg through the straps, holding it in place as they fastened. The shield banged against the floor while Thorn readjusted his leg, lifting it up and down. He squinted, tracing the straps as they moved around in their sections when he bent his leg. With a rough huff, the stallion made a few striking motions. The shield left a hazy after-image each time it swung, the crystals glowing brighter whenever his leg pulled back at the straps.

Thorn stopped and nodded, stomping the shield leg on the floor and sliding it up his leg. He walked out into the open, breathing deep when a slow gust of wind passed by.

“Feeling restless?” a unicorn mage trooper sitting on a chair by the tent asked. He took a sip from a sparkle water bottle. “We’re deploying together. I’m with the Ghost Wolves.”

“Defense Company.” Thorn nodded at the red-maned unicorn. “We’ll be on the other side of the city. It’s a mess. I thought my last deployment was bad...”

“Hey, it’s not all grim business these days,” the unicorn said, smiling. He got up and extended a hoof. Thorn looked at him for a moment before shaking it. “We’ll make sure this doesn’t go belly up. Command isn’t usually that dumb unless Twilight’s Council gets involved. If all goes to plan, we’re all gonna be clean and no one’ll ever have to know.”

“Sounds unlikely.” Thorn looked down and rubbed his shield leg. He looked away from the unicorn. ”At least this time we’re helping ponies out and not bashing them with shields.”

“Chin up. It looks bad now, but we’ve always pulled through. Few more years of this, and we’ll be back to where we were. They’ll pay us a pension, too.” The mage trooper smiled. “What did you do before ES/AS?”

“I was applying for a post with the Royal Guard,” the earth stallion replied. He chewed on his lip.

“Well, hey, we’re not gonna be that different. When this is all over, I’m going to settle down and run a convenience store, or something quiet like that. There’s no better job than a job where you sit around and do nothing, am I right?” The unicorn downed the rest of his bottle and exhaled. “I’m Red, by the way. Lieutenant Redmane. Just got over here today. If the rest of your squad isn’t around, you could hang with us for half an hour.”

“I’m, um… Let me find out real quick,” the earth stallion mumbled, looking away from Red.

Thorn walked around the corner and looked into the hangar. In there, a half dozen ponies were inspecting a big, trapezoid construction strapped with crystals, propellers attached to its two wings that stood folded upwards. One of the ponies was finishing up with a picture depicting a hoof coming down on a cockroach. The green mare jerked and twisted around when Thorn cleared his throat, her short blonde mane covering her eyes.

“Is the fly-cage going to be ready soon?” he asked.

“...yeah, two hours or so. You’re on our second squad, right? Thorn?” the mare asked in return. The stallion nodded. “Don’t tell command we’re painting these up, yeah? Lost a bet to my brother, that’s all. I don’t want to deploy with my ass bright red.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He walked out, turning his head to the mage. Having paused for a moment, Thorn sighed and kept walking, reaching the edge of the roof and staying there, looking at the skyline of San Franciscolt. He rested his head on the top of the shield.

“Hey, Thorn!” Red called out from where he sat. “The drinks are on the house if you change your mind.”

“Sorry. Don’t drink.” Thorn shut his eyes.

“Wouldn’t be so sour if you did,” the unicorn said as he left for the other end of the roof.

“Doesn’t help,” Thorn said quietly, staring at the blue smoke coming from the city.

“ETA is ten minutes,” a female voice cut into the fizzling and crackling emerging from Thorn’s earpiece. The trooper it belonged to, a unicorn in a glossy, tight uniform, pressed her eye against the looking glass tube hanging from the ceiling. “Been three years since I went here for a vacation. Total chaos, loitering in the streets, bugs stumbling around… The weather was better back then, that’s about it for differences.”

The squad members laughed, some guffawing out loud, some snickering for just a moment. Thorn stayed quiet, tapping the joints on his thick armored suit. Including the unicorn by the glass, there were six ponies in the fly-cage - a pegasus air fighter in a padded jackets and face-mask, a pegasus medical trooper in red and white armor, two unicorn mages in full-body glossy suits with a red line going down one’s side and a blue down the other’s, and two shieldbearer earth ponies in heavy armor. Everyone but the unicorn were in their drop chutes that lined the sides of the fly-cage, staying secure while their transport moved through the city.

“What about the changelings, Captain?” Thorn spoke up, nudging the speaker bead by his mouth to turn it on. “How do they look, do you see any synaptics?”

“It’s a bunch of waddling, drooling cretins down there, Shield Corporal. Looks like the refugees really weren’t bullshitting. If you’re worrying about the big ones, I’ve a negative for now.” The unicorn got into her chute and slid on the mask, faint light emerging from beneath the oculi when her horn lit up. “Our shiny gizmo tech doesn’t seem to want to work right now, so it can’t tell us what bugs are around.”

“They that wacked out, huh?” the other shielder on the squad asked. “Full lethal assault then, is it, Captain?”

“Not officially.” The mare laughed, parts of her words getting lost in the hissing interference. “But what’s official about any of this anymore? Let’s go in and get out. With any luck, there’s still some stragglers we can save. These cheeseleg bastards don’t get to fuck with our ponies.”

“Now we’re talking!” One of the pegasi raised his forehoof and pumped it in the air. “Let’s do what we signed up for!”

The squad cheered, while Thorn took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He flexed his neck, grabbing a metal bar as the cage began to shake harder.

“Quick rundown before we drop,” the mare said, leaving the looking glass. “Our LZ is Golden Grace Hospital. Bust it out, filter out into the streets, make some noise. From there, it’s a straight shot down the road, through the harbor and to the outskirts. Our two squads will be trying to get their attention while the Ghost Wolves get into the refinery and have it sorted. We’ll meet at Hays Valley at the pier and then hold out until the sneakers give us the signal. If we see anyone who can be helped, we do our best. Anyone who’s lagged behind is probably helpless, and they’ll need assistance.”

The radio bead in Thorn’s ear sputtered out high pitched, hissing noises. He knocked on his helmet, causing the interference to go away. The rest of the squad went through the same motions.

“So they’ve told us nothing more? Do we know why our stuff is messing up?” he asked, enunciating into the bead as the interference picked up again. “Since when do they-”

“If there was, I’d be telling you. We’re going in blind, boys and girls, and we’re figuring it all out on the go.” The unicorn got into her chute. “Be glad you’re not with the Wolves - they’re going to be there to see what the hell happened in the first place. Our task is to improvise, make a racket, and keep whoever we can find safe. I didn’t get my cutie mark for standing around when innocent ponies are being fucked with, and neither did any of you.”

A low, rumbling hum arose at the exterior. The cage wobbled in the air as it got louder, turning into a metallic growl. Another cheer from the squad covered up most of the noise, but enough remained audible for it to be noticed. The squad members shuffled around, the captain in particular rising from her chute once an iron plate burst from the ceiling, unveiling brightly glowing, fizzling crystals within a tangle of wires.

“Hold on,” she said, rushing to the looking glass. “This isn’t right.”

Thorn sunk back into the chute, grabbing the bars with both forehooves. A low, whooping noise was barely audible over the interference, rumbling and chatter. The stallion stopped breathing, staring at the rest of the squad.

He had raised his hoof and opened his mouth, turning to the unicorn by the looking glass, only to be jerked forward as their aircraft abruptly jolted. He stayed within the chute, holding onto the bars, but the next jolt sent him crashing into the back of the cage, leaving cracks on the back of his helmet.

A thick beam of cyan synapse flame tore through the fly-cage, sending it crashing down uncontrollably and melting two of his squadmates where they sat. With a loud, booming bang, it landed on the top of an apartment building. Thorn’s visor smashed against a piece of rebar that pierced through the hull, the plastic cracking. The suspender belts around his chest held as he lost consciousness, blood dripping out of his nose.

The stallion took deep breaths, looking down from the roof of the apartment building. Further down the street, the hospital could be seen, towering above the apartment blocks and shops. He raised an armored foreleg and moved it around, watching the shock absorbers on the forehooves wobble around. After another look four stories down, the trooper grunted and shook his head. He turned around and walked over to the table next to the skylight the fly-cage destroyed as it crashed. For a moment, he turned his head to the four corpses - an earth pony, two pegasi and a unicorn - lined up on a patch of the roof clear of rubble, their eyes closed and forehooves crossed on their chests. The trooper pressed a hoof against his face and bit his lip before looking back away.

“...won’t die for nothing,” Thorn said quietly.

He put a bead inside his ear, tapped it and then pushed against it, bringing the volume of the shrieking, fizzling noises down. Voices were audible every few seconds, incomprehensible with all the interference now going on.

Thorn closed his eyes, exhaled and flexed before reaching for the helmet on the table. The cracked, scratched armor plates on his body held together, clattering wherever the damage weakened the connection. He put on the helmet, leaving the cracked, blood-caked visor pointing upwards. His dented tower shield unfolded as he stomped his leg, staying attached after a couple of swings in the air. Thorn winced and shook his head, working out the shield leg before climbing over rubble toward the rooftop exit. Blood trickled out of the stallion’s bruised snout.

The trooper stomped down the stairway and to the padlocked door, which gave way off its hinges after a single push. The apartment behind it was ruined, parts of the wall having collapsed inwards, furniture laying in pieces, a coldbox standing open with food still in it. There was a jagged black body laying underneath a pile of rubble, oozing green liquid. Thorn stopped in front of it, squinting at the liquid.

“All green,” the stallion said out loud. He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced, landing a reddish spit on the changeling before moving on. “Have they gone feral?...”

Having walked past the room the cage had crashed into, the trooper made his way to the corridor between apartments. Furniture had been piled up in the crossing, the stairs to the lower floor visible through the cracks between wardrobes and chairs. After a number of swipes and bashes with Thorn’s shield, the barricade was disposed of, wood and rippled cushioning littering the plaster, ash and dust-covered floor. High-pitched chittering and dull, echoing buzzing came from beneath. The stallion slowly made his way down the stairs, keeping the shield leg in front.

Down below, an equine figure shambled amidst broken furniture, shattered plates and cutlery thrown all over the floor. The only source of light in the room was a cracked torchbug lantern that lay sideways on a de-legged drawer, and the bright, glowing green wounds on the equine’s body. It shuddered on jagged legs, fluorescent drool dripping out its hung-open mouth. Blank, radiant green eyes stayed open wide, casting a shade of green over the destroyed interior.

Its wings buzzed as it began to turn around to face Thorn. A hollow, slow chitter came out of its mouth as it stumbled forward, swiping at the trooper with a stiff leg, only to fall down on the floor more than a meter short of him. An armored hoof came down on its head, leaving behind another glowing crack among the many others it was covered in. Thorn paused, looking at the body as it shuddered on the floor, slowly scrambling to get up and failing. He walked on, leaving it behind as it wheezed and clicked its gums.

Another bout of high-pitched chittering came from below, this time with rapid, tittering hoofsteps being audible close by. Thorn passed a living room lined with rugs, bead strings and hookahs, and entered the apartment intersection, stepping over a potted miniature palm that had crashed down the length of the corridor. There was a wide hole in the middle of the room on the other side, with a desk and chair having fallen to the ground floor. The trooper approached it, kicking aside trophies and diplomas strewn all over the room, and leaned over the hole.

The hoofsteps got louder, now accompanied by distorted, gasping breaths in addition to the chittering. They emerged from the ground floor. Quick shadows passed along where the moonlight came in through the windows.

Thorn stepped back and looked back down the corridor, heading to the next stairway. The torchbug and crystal lanterns fixed to the walls were either broken or emitted a very weak, inconsistent light, hardly illuminating the floor littered with newspapers and pamphlets.

He tapped his shoulder, which produced a faint light out of the inbuilt torch, which began to sputter within a few seconds before winking out. After closing his eyes and exhaling, the stallion descended and loudly smashed the shield into the floor upon having made it to ground level. Three distinct high pitched voices responded with distorted screeching and an approaching clatter of jagged legs. An apartment door a few meters down the corridor burst, with a changeling shape shooting out of it and skidding to a halt, knocking the neighboring apartment’s mailbox off the wall. The runner’s blank eyes glowing green and bulging out of its head, its legs kicked around as it scampered on the floor, gaining speed for another charge. It chittered and wheezed, mouth open wide, green liquid dripping off its fangs. When it lunged for Thorn, it ran headfirst into the shield, cracking its chitin and splattering a steaming green liquid all over it.

The changeling landed on its back, and the trooper moved over, raising an armored hoof. The black, chitinous body blurred and fizzled, turning into a pony for several moments. Its chittering and wheezing turned into guttural screaming and crying as it attempted to drag itself away. The pony’s pinprick eyes stared at Thorn without blinking. The stallion paused, watching the changeling swap in and out of its disguise, going from dragging itself away to shielding itself with its hooves. He grit his teeth, crushing the changeling’s rib cage with his shield, turning its distorted shrieking and chittering into bubbling gurgles.

Three more changelings made their way into the corridor by then, each of them charging swiftly on rigit, shaking limbs. One of them launched at the trooper, coming straight at the shield, only to stop itself before making impact and leap backwards, hissing and buzzing its wings. Thorn held his shield in place, watching the runner in front of him bend down and kick its hoof, with another behind him pacing back and forth and twitching its head, already flickering between forms. Their noises blended together, creating a choir of wheezes, chitters and howls.

The stallion grunted when the third runner smashed into him from the side, sending him into a wall and causing his shield cover to drop. He rebound, smacking away the panting, growling changeling with a blow to its face and raising his shield in time for one of the other two to crash its hooves against it. There was a crack of chitin, and a splatter of green when Thorn brought his shield leg down, squashing a flickering extremity. Dragging steaming green goo against the floor, he rammed the shield sideways into the runner at his side, breaking one of its hind legs.

The third changeling remained further down the corridor, pacing left and right and kicking its hooves, wide open blank green eyes glaring at the stallion. It made a series of brisk steps towards the shielded trooper, raising a hoof before immediately jumping backwards. Thorn brought the shield down on the floor and propelled himself forward with a push of his other legs, smashing into the runner before it regained its balance. There was a wet crack as its head collided with the shield. Thorn cleared his throat and caught his breath, going down the steps to the door that lead outside.

The two-lane street outside was illuminated by a few hanging lamp posts, creating areas of weak pinkish glowing in an area otherwise filled with moonlight, tinted dark blue as it passed through the thick cyan smoke that covered the sky. Beyond most of the windows, there was still light, albeit some were smashed, curtains flowing out in the breeze that had picked up. The street was quiet, safe for bangs and loud, piercing screeches in the direction of the hospital and the refinery, and the quiet noises of the roaming drones.

The changeling drones lumbered in the dark, discernible by the bright green radiance coming from their eyes and wounds, on the ones whose chitin was damaged. A drone sat on its haunches right by the building Thorn had left, slowly rocking back and forth, holding its head in its hooves, moaning with its tongue hanging out. To the left, another stood on its hind legs by a hot dog stand, moving its rigid limbs to replicate the motions of a vendor putting a hot dog together, starting over each time. Another drone sat on the balcony of the building opposite the apartments, walking up against the railing and attempting to move its legs as if no obstacle was in place. One drone shambled down the road in Thorn’s direction, its pace quickening when its eyes focused themselves on the trooper. The changeling clicked its mouth and began to close the distance before walking into a patch of light, at which point it fell on the ground and shut its eyes, shielding them further with its hooves. Tear-like green liquid dribbled out of its eyes as it wheezed and coughed, its wings trembling with an echoing buzz.

“...the cop wasn’t kidding,” Thorn muttered under his breath as he trotted between the patches of light, following the street toward the hospital. “What a disaster.”

He walked past a destroyed barricade, sticking by the lights of the police carriages placed to each side of the chunks of wood and plastic that used to block the way. Examining the interiors, he found no bodies, all the equipment left intact, including police communicators. Like the one in his ear, they hissed with interference.

Thorn walked to the back of one of the carriages and slammed into the back door with his shield, throwing it open. He put the shield up, until the inside came into view. The carriage was empty, including the basic equipment shelves along the sides. He poked a box with a red cross on it with a hoof, and scowled as it reacted with an empty rattle. With a quick glance to each side, the stallion trotted over to the other carriage, the back door of which was laying on the ground, torn off its hinges. He looked inside and reeled, seeing multiple decomposing drones piled on top of a body in police uniform. Shaking his head and breathing in deep, he walked onwards down the street.

A dozen of slow, dazed changelings shuffled in his trail, having begun tracking him when he crossed the barricade. They shambled out of the underground station entrance, stumbling on the rising steps, few making it all the way up. Thorn looked back at them and upped his pace.

Down the direction the trooper was heading, a large synaptic growth towered in the middle of a large eight-way crossroads, weakly radiating green at its base and cyan off the elliptical spots on its sides. The houses were stacked tight along each sides of the street, with the only alleyway opening up into a sewage drain hole. No light posts operated in this part of the street, leaving it completely dark safe for some of the windows and a number of wounded changelings, as well as a few puddles of glowing synapse underneath those that stood in place, drooling and bleeding into the piles. Erratic clicking was emerging from all around, coupled with hissing and growling. Thorn punched his shoulder hard, getting the in-built torch to activate and maintain a consistent light ray.

Far more changelings were concealed behind hedges, bushes and fences lining the street, which drowned out the moonlight. As the torch revealed them, they contorted, twitching their heads, bubbling the synapse in their mouths. Echoing heaving began to pick up among the changelings. The stallion sucked air in through his teeth and started into a quick canter down the street, closing in on the crossroads. Along the way, he trampled over discarded paper bags, aerosol cans, unlabeled bottled and sticks. Entering the crossroads proper, he toppled over a miniature potted tree, smashing a sign that had been planted into the earth alongside it. ‘RESPECT THE PACT’ was written on it in cyan paint.

Thorn squinted and blinked several times, adjusting to the faded green and cyan of the growth. It had a liquid, flowing appearance, with the only solid parts to it being the cyan cocoons sprouting off the sides. Dried, dessicated changeling husks lay close by, including several long-horned synaptics. As Thorn circled around it, he ended up coming across the large centaur-shaped carcass, which sat on its knees before the growth, its chitin steaming as it slowly decomposed. Its arms were lodged into the matter of the growth.

“Centurions… sweet Celestia…” he whispered. Raising his head, the trooper found the hospital towering in the direction of the north-eastern road that split off the crossroads. He began to walk around the large, desiccating husk, only to stop and smash it with the shield.

A plate of crusted chitin cracked, falling off and putting the centurion out of balance, leaving it to topple over. Its arms fell out of the growth, which wobbled in response. Thorn began to canter in the direction of the hospital by when it stabilized itself. A wet, fleshy sound came from the growth.

After looking behind his shoulder, the trooper stopped. One of the cocoons had opened, while the others settled after a wave of vibrations. Within was a mare in skin-tight ES/AS uniform, rocking back and forth. Taking a sharp breath, the stallion rushed back over to her.

“Hey! Are you alright? Can you hear me?” he spoke loudly, his ears twitching at the echo of his voice spreading down the streets. Standing in front of the growth again, he made an abrupt stop, his mouth hanging open. “Oh fuck…”

The Captain made repetitive rocking motions, the irises of her eyes rolled back, eyelids rarely closing. Clutched in her forehooves was a young foal with the same absent eyes. Two more foals sat on their haunches to her side, clinging to her legs with unmoving forehooves, their heads facing forward, jaws hanging open, colorless drool dripping off their lower lips. Their only signs of life were the rare blinks and occasional deep breaths.

“Hello? Captain?! What did they do to you?” Thorn shouted, getting in the mare’s face. There was no reaction. “Shhhit… Hold on, I’m going to-”

He growled, grabbing on to the side of the cocoon with both forehooves and pulling at it. The growth held, only responding with jello-like wobbling once he let go. At that point, the other cocoons were still vibrating, being moved by something from within the luminescent synaptic construct. The smooth, cyan material withstood several blows from his shield, immediately recovering from any dents. Thorn stomped his hoof into the synapse-stained pavement and grabbed the mare, shaking and pulling at her shoulders hard enough to cause the core of the growth to boil and bubble.

The Captain and the foals did not react, remaining in place no matter the force the stallion applied. A few seconds into his contact with them, however, they began to be pushed towards him. Thorn stepped back, staring at the vibrating, gurgling synapse. The green center had expanded to several times its previous size, turning the cocoons at an angle. The dead centurion's arms dissolved within it, and the rest of his body was sunk deeper in, quickly disappearing.

"What the hell is it—" Thorn began, before his jaw dropped and his pupils shrunk. "..."

The closed cocoons glowed brightly before being snuffed out, while the opened one began to crack. The chitin snapped, letting the Captain and the falls limply fall on the ground. The trooper remained in place, watching a new centaur shape well up inside the growth. Loud clicking and hacking noises spread through the neighboring streets.

The centurion spread its shoulders, pushing at the substance of the growth. Thorn slowly shook his head and backpedaled, his eyes darting between the motionless bodies and the centurion. More changelings hollered in the streets. The stallion upped his pace, breathing in deep, looking at the streets that were being filled with runners. Behind him, the street leading to the hospital only gained a half dozen pairs of glowing eyes, drones crawling through the dark.

At the point when high-pitched insectoid changeling screeches and guttural, throaty pony hollering started to echo from all directions, the centurion's growth burst open. It growled, stumbling out of the remains of the growth, which emitted a loud fleshy sound, its remains puling back together. The giant changeling let off two streams of green flame into the sky through holes in its hands.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered and lowered his head, leaving the mare and the foals behind as he started toward the road to the hospital.

He rammed through several runners before slowing down to plant his shield on the ground, which an approaching runner crashed into, cracking its own skull. Others that had been galloping in his direction skidded to a halt, flickering between their forms. Thorn stayed in place, taking steady breaths and watching the runners, who paced around, twitching their heads, panting and growling. There were six in plain view, with more shuffling along in the shadows underneath the roadside trees. Every few seconds, one of them would attempt to swipe at the trooper, only to back off before connecting.

As the sharp clattering of hooves and loud screeching coming from the other streets began to close in, Thorn struck with his shield when one of the runners went for an attack. The changeling dodged back, flickering into a pony as it screamed, spreading spittle all over the shield. The trooper’s armored forehoof punched into its jaw, cutting the scream short and crushing through the pony visage. The remaining runners paused, emitting high-pitched chittering, bending their spines and twisting their necks. Some distance in the back, the centurion was slowly approaching, its steps shaking the ground.

Thorn charged through another one of the runners and moved further down the street, trotting past a lane of palm trees planted down the road. The changelings split up, some skittering along the road, some leaping onto the trees that lined the pavement. Drones staggered out of buildings, falling down steps, some dropping out of windows, most continuing to try to crawl towards the stallion. Hollow, moaning screams, followed by suctioning sounds, came from behind, as some of the drones and a number of the runners held in their tracks, mouths open wide, bright cyan vapor floating out of their mouths and eyes into the holes in the centurion's arms.

The swarming mass of runners approaching from the rest of the city lost many in their number when the centurion roared and fired off a jet of flame down in Thorn's direction. The stallion dove into an alleyway, while numerous changelings went up in flames, emitting bulbous trails that floated back to the centaur changeling. The comms bead activated on impact, emerging with a loud shot of static before dying out.

Within the alley, a chain link fence toppled over as the trooper bumped into it. He put up his shield, taking a staggering drone head on. Thorn grunted and made his way up the alley, away from the street that was still cooling down, only to stop when a loud shriek erupted behind him, coupled with a loud buzzing. His armor clattered as he collapsed onto the road, brought down by a runner that had leaped on his back from a height. It spent a second screaming, its wings buzzing loudly, before starting to bang its hooves against the trooper’s helmet, leaving deep scratches with the jagged ends. The changeling stayed attached as Thorn rolled onto his side. When he pushed to throw himself on his back, it fell under the combined weight of both the stallion and the armor, flickering and howling as its chitin cracked, synapse spraying out in fountains.

The building next to the alley trembled, the centurion's horns showing above its roof. Thorn braced, staying on his hooves as the giant changeling broke through its roof, kicking the front in with a hoof. A few runners entered the valley before skidding to a halt, withering away, the centurion absorbing them too. Thorn grit his teeth and took a low start, rushing back to the street, while the centurion emitted a loud hiss and began to pull out of the building.

Further down the street, bodies of changelings were strewn all over. There were precise circles scorched into the pavement, as well as occasional trails of melting ice. Multiple trails identical to the one the centurion left were lining the pavement, one splitting a small shop in half. Underneath a hotel’s brightly glowing sign, there was an earth pony trooper in armor similar to Thorn’s, with different company markings. The stallion turned his head and slowed down, only to pick up the pace once again upon seeing the body only move with the beating of the centurion's hooves. It slumped down onto the pavement, into the pool of drying blood that had spread around it.

Thorn neared in on another abandoned police barricade, shoulder-charging through the tape and cardboard warning signs. The carriages to its side were dented and scorched, lights smashed. He slowed down to avoid trampling over the bodies in police uniforms that lay on the road. The trooper coughed, catching his breath, and maintained a steady pace down the lane, closing in on the hospital grounds. Dissolving changeling bodyparts became more frequent as the stallion approached the marble sign near the entrance, covered in stale synapse which still emitted a weak green glow over the cyan core within.

The trooper stopped, putting a hoof against the sign and heaving, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva on the ground. He shook his head, looking at the remains of numerous drones, killed in a variety of ways. The towering building itself was smoking from the inside, with numerous windows blown out, and a fly-cage’s rear end sticking out of a large breach in one of its upper floors. A nearby ambulance was splattered in blood, with the twisted body of a pegasus in light armor lying within a deep dent on its hood.

The smell of smoke emerging from the building mixed into the ozonous vapor produced by the dissipating changelings, its trails adding into the haze created by decaying synapse. Gulping and taking a deep breath, Thorn ran on, squashing changeling matter with most steps. He took the street down a steep downturn just past the hospital grounds, which headed toward the cyan smoke billowing out of the refinery beyond the harbor.

The trail of changeling bodies continued, now coupled with damaged synaptic growths that covered patches of the street. Thorn winced, squinting at the idly swirling green cores. They sprouted in alleyways between short buildings, in the middle of the road itself, casting the otherwise dark slope in green and cyan light. The cocoons attached to them bore signs of damage, some having turned a darker azure shade. Thorn ran past several cocoons that had been opened up as well, looking away from the ponies contained within. Tripping over a mostly intact, solid body of a synaptic changeling, he ended up butting into one of the opened pods, with the pony inside showing no reaction despite the trooper’s weight. The horde following in the stallion’s wake emitted a unified sharp screech, joined in by a few distorted voices from closer down the street.

“Dammit—” He spat on the ground and heaved, clearing his throat. His snout was covered in blood from the cocooned mare’s nose which he broke upon impact. “Celestia… How did they… urgh.”

Thorn pushed back against the encased pony, scampered back onto his own hooves and ran on forward. The mare in running clown makeup continued to slowly make juggling motions despite the bruises and the broken nose. Her eyes remained rolled back into her skull.

The lane he had been following was blocked by another collapsed centurion, which lay on its side, oozing green out of numerous deep gashes on its body and missing an arm. Thorn gave it a bash with his shield before observing further.

On the other side stood a small transit tramway carriage. Further ahead, the street took another steep decline, with stairs placed on the sidewalks and warning signs, all of which had been painted over. The trooper approached the decline and grit his teeth, shaking his head and turning to the stairs. He groaned, leaning over the centurion’s dead body and squinting at the distant end of the street, which lead into the harbor.

The living centurion's piercing hissing and screaming sounded off in the closer distance, followed by the end of a green flame jet coating the police barricade in synaptic fire. Thorn exhaled and wiped sweat off his forehead, turning to the tram.

It creaked under his weight, tilting into the drop as he bucked open the driver’s section. Having cleared the panel of glass shards and rocks that littered the buttons and levers, Thorn shut his eyes and exhaled.

“...this is suicide,” he murmured, moving the brake lever. With a loud grunt, the stallion pushed his shoulder into the panel. The tram went on full tilt and started rolling down its track, gaining speed on the sharp slope.

Thorn jumped back into the passenger compartment and pressed his back against a metal support, planting his hooves into the floor. The rattling of various debris littering the interior, as well as the shuddering floor and supports, combined with the whistling of the wind coming through the broken windows to drown out the noises coming from the changeling mob. The street would occasionally even out for an intersection before sloping downwards again, shaking the entire car. Abandoned purses and drinks flew off the seats, spilling their contents all over the floor. What remained of some of the windows collapsed further, leaving a trail of glass on the road.

A minute into the increasingly fast decline, the tram nearly jumped and slowed down for several seconds. Wet, chunky sounds were followed by a series of loud cracks, after which the tram continued down the slope. Thorn looked up and grimaced, gulping and turning around. There was a bright red trail on the tramway track.

The waterfront was getting closer, marked by a wooden arch that read ‘HAYS VALLEY HARBOR’ in gilded lettering. Another police barricade was placed underneath it, covered in luminescent synaptic growth on top of having been mostly broken down. There was a carriage straight down the middle where the track passed through. The stallion put the bloodstained visor down over his face, placed his forehooves against the metal support and dug his hind hooves into the floor. The tram broke off the track, grinding downwards through the road.

The tram and the carriage collided, the former bursting through the latter and grinding to a halt. Thorn’s hind hooves forced the floor plate loose, making him drop down a few inches. His forehooves left deep dents in the support, having several of the bolts keeping it attached to the ceiling fly off. The shock absorbers on his hooves hissed and broke off. He climbed up all the way into the car and stumbled outside, having to stop and lean against it while he raised his visor and breathed. The stallion bent down and began to hack and gurgle, his stomach growling and a hoof raised to his chest. After a few seconds of struggling, he took deep breaths and flexed his neck, taking slow, unsteady steps into the harbor grounds.

Most of the surroundings were covered in the luminous green synapse, smaller objects showing a rare pattern of green tendrils, while buildings, vendor stands and abandoned boats housed full sized growths complete with cocoons. Moving past the barricaded section and into the long stretch of paved street lined with souvenir shops, cafes and potted palm trees, Thorn unfolded his shield. Groups of changelings flocked near the bigger growths, filling the harbor with persistent buzzing and clicking.

The changelings closest to the green mass inside the shop’s interior stood still with their mouths open wide, some kneeling down with their heads submerged into the green synapse. The ones furthest from the thicker parts of the growth paced back and forth, panting, twitching and dripping greenish saliva from their fangs. The trooper slowly passed them by, his armor clanging against the paved ground, shield leg half-raised.

None of the changelings showed any interest in him, even when he quickened his pace, heading straight down the paved road to the cyan smoke signaling the refinery. He passed dozens of changelings gathering around the cocoons, with the only ones to register his presence being a small number of badly mangled drones trying to crawl towards the nearest growth. Thorn dispatched them whenever they tried swiping at him, smashing their heads in with the shield.

“Food… Sun and Moon, we’re all just food to you, aren’t we?” the trooper muttered under his breath. “Animals.” He stomped on a dead drone that lay sprawled nearby, coating his hoof in thick green goop.

The trooper bashed through a pile of rubble placed in the middle of the beach-side path he had been following. He winced, watching a motionless, limp body of a pony fall face down on the pavement with a wet smack. It was an earthen stallion, covered in both blood and green synapse. Stains and trails of dried out synapse covered much of the ground beyond the barrier, with occasional pieces of chitin littered all over, still dissolving into green mush.

The communications bead in his ear started up once he neared the next growth. The quiet beeping and whistling got more sporadic, jumping up and down in volume, forming incoherent patterns. He grit his teeth and smacked the bead through his helmet, decreasing the volume. Loud chittering and screeching became audible - both far behind him, and in front. In addition to the changeling noises coming from ahead, there were sharp electric crackles and low growling of flame. One of the cafes caught fire, engulfing the cocoons peeking out its windows. The noises coming from the bead picked up for a moment before settling back down to a much weaker level of interference.

“Mages...” Thorn said to himself. He lifted his shield leg up and stomped it on the ground. “Comm clearing, they gotta be.”

The stallion trotted towards the closest growth, which took up most of a mid-sized sail cruiser roped to a nearby pier. The interference got louder and more consistent the closer he got to it. He bit his lip and nodded before taking a running start off the pier.

Thorn leaped and landed on the boat, cracking parts of the deck and toppling over one of the changelings. His landing also squashed a couple of the bulbous tendrils sprouting from the growth. The vessel rocked, scattering the ones that weren’t feeding directly off the center. The fallen changelings twitched and scrambled on the deck, beginning to growl and pant, while the ones in the middle slowly ejected their maws from the green synapse and flailed their hooves around, green goo smeared all over their snouts.

Thorn ran his shoulder into a nearby changeling before it was able to get up, cracking its chitin into bits. Swinging his shield back rapidly, he bashed another waking changeling, nearly splitting it in two. His shield leg came down hard on the fallen body, coating the trooper in another layer of green and delivering enough force to rock the boat. Thorn tensed up and kept himself stable, ramming forward when the boat was on a downward angle, plowing through three changelings at once, flinging the last one off the boat and into the water.

None of the others that remained got back up, being crushed by the trooper’s armored hooves. The bead continued to whistle and beep at the same rate, only spiking whenever he would burst a chitinous tumor on one of the tendrils. The tendrils ran off the boat and into the water, some ending back up on the shore and turning into thin green lines that lead to other growths, while others stayed underwater, illuminating the sandy floor. Thorn spent a minute going around and taking his shield to each tumor within view.

He was nearly done when the captain’s quarters door flung open, and another changeling waddled into him. Thorn turn around in time to take it head on, staying on his hooves when it pounced. It was a synaptic, fading in and out of its forms, its jagged horn spitting out sparks. The synaptic’s eyes were blank like the other changelings’, but cyan instead of green. Its pupils shrunk down and did not move even as it wrestled with the trooper, aiming for his neck with the jagged ends of its forehooves. Thorn kept it away long enough to gain enough space for a headbutt, which knocked the synaptic off him. He rolled over to where it landed and pressed his own forehooves against its face, crushing through the slightly thicker chitin. His hooves connected with the synaptic’s face at the moment when it faded into its pony appearance, a sunburnt pegasus stallion with a sharp white beard, a white beret and a pipe sticking out of his mouth. The beret and the pipe dissolved into sizzling green synapse while Thorn rushed to get back up and look away, shaking his head and taking deep breaths.

The interference decreased even further with the synaptic’s death. Now the whistling patterns were letting through occasional syllables. When he made his way off the pier and continued down the harbor, the connection improved even further, signaled by a series of loud screeches and flashes. Trotting onward to the nearest growth on the way to the mages, the trooper tapped the bead again, setting it into transmit mode.

“Can anyone hear me? This is Shield Corporal Thorn Coat, Defense Company Second Squad,” he spoke loudly, enunciating. “Repeat, can anyone hear me? Anyone in this area— no, no good.”

Thorn gulped and looked back, seeing a smaller changeling horde continuing down the harbor, only a few dozen drones and runners. Larger crowds were gathered around the growths he had passed by. The sounds coming from the bead remained undecipherable, though less distorted. The stallion lowered his head and took a deep breath before heading toward a souvenir shop bustling with radiant cyan cocoons.

He charged through the door, crushing figurines and badges that lay scattered all over the floor. The growth was located behind the cashier’s desk, taking up the entire height of the back wall and spreading its tendrils through the whole store, breaking through planks and wrapping around wooden beams. Smaller green tumors formed on the long shelves, tearing through the fabric of shirts, absorbing cups and keychains. Changelings shambled down the lines, mouths open wide and drooling. Some lay on the floor, grasping the tendrils and pushing their faces up against the tumors.

Thorn kicked his hooves and rammed his way forward to the growth, stomping through the drones on the floor and tackling the ones walking down the aisle. He skidded to a halt before colliding with the thick green synapse. The couple of changelings he picked up with his charge flew into it and got stuck, immediately downing their heads into the oozing liquid as soon as they could move. Thorn flexed his neck and looked around, squinting at a staff only door left untouched by the growth. Having shoved away a half dozen feeding drones and squashed a multitude of tumors, he reached the door, with the noises coming from the bead rising in intensity once again. He turned his back to the door and bucked it out. As the door fell on the floor, the bead emitted a clear voice:

“Can anyone hear me?” a stallion said. Thorn opened his mouth before yelping and rolling off to the side, his armor clanging against the souvenirs littered all over the floor. A bright cyan bolt passed through where he just was.

The trooper grit his teeth, leaning against a shelf to get back on his hooves, toppling it onto the drones on the other side. A synaptic walked out of the room, stumbling on rigid hooves and shaking all over, glowing green synapse bubbling in his mouth, which itself shone a bright cyan. It took a sharp breath before uttering the phrase out again, using Thorn’s own voice. Its fizzling horn lit up, and Thorn dove into the synaptic, dodging the bolt that seared through multiple lines of shelves and scorched through a drone’s flank. The flash that followed was brighter and lasted longer.

The trooper’s helmet collided with a hard object, making him fall lose his balance and drop down on the floor as the changeling stumbled back. The stallion backed down just as a tower shield came crashing down where his head used to be. He looked up and saw himself staring back with pinprick eyes.

“Sweet Celestia…” he muttered. The changeling copied the rest of him a second later before striking out with the shield. Thorn raised his own, ending up being pushed into the shelf with the impact.

He charged into the synaptic from where he had been pushed into, but was thrown off course and into another shelf when it stomped with its shield leg. While the stallion recovered, the changeling emitted a loud scream in his voice, and its horn lit up once again. The scream continued, occasionally interlaced with clicks and chitters. All the remaining drones roaming the shop and feeding off the growth stopped in their tracks and threw their heads back, echoing the scream. The whistling and screeching from the bead rose back to the loudest it had been. Thorn groaned and pushed up against his ears through the helmet, falling down on the floor. He rose back up shortly thereafter when the scream ended. The entire room was filled with ES/AS troopers.

Thorn’s double pointed its free hoof at him, and over a dozen earth ponies, pegasi and unicorns went after the stallion himself. Each of them appeared to have wounds on their heads and chests, some of them bled blood that vapored into green smoke before hitting the floor, some others lacking parts of their equipment or bodies, like safety straps on the pegasi or pupils on the unicorns. ‘DC-2’ was marked on each one’s armor - the shieldbearers’ shoulders, the air fighters’ sides and the unicorns’ chests.

“ You… you…” the trooper said. He lowered his head and sucked air in through clenched teeth. “You FUCKING ANIMALS.”

He took off with a roar, smashing into the air fighter that was throwing itself at him. Even after plowing through the changeling, which fizzled back to its real form after cracking its neck against the stallion’s shoulder, Thorn kept going, throwing the lighter armored troopers around as he went. A shieldbearer stood in his way, blocking the aisle he had been ramming through, its shield planted firmly into the wooden floor. The stallion ran straight into it, smashing his shield into the the changeling’s.

The floorboards cracked and the changeling got pushed back, losing balance long enough for Thorn to walk straight over it, simulated armor creaking under his weight. He delivered a heavy buck with his hind leg after jumping down, leaving a light dent on the helmet that was accompanied by a wet crack. The shieldbearer opened the dead trooper’s slack-jawed, blood-covered mouth and emitted a pony scream that transitioned into a fading chitter. Thorn squashed the changeling’s chitinous head in with his shield once it lost the visage.

He growled and yelled, kicking his hooves against the floor and spreading spittle over the approaching changelings. A unicorn fired off a sharp white projectile, which the stallion took on his shield, before burying the shimmering icy spike in another air fighter’ disfigured face. A shielder approached from the side, swiping with the shield and getting Thorn to stagger into a shelf. He caught himself on his own shield and bounced back, knocking the changeling off its hooves. Rising over the changeling, he spun to face a pouncing fighter and headbutted it out of the air. His helmet smashed through the simulated aviator cap and glasses, which vaporized shortly after the changeling dropped down on the floor with a gaping crack in its forehead. Its insides pulsated cyan for a moment before decreasing into a green glow.

Thorn screamed and raised his shield, pointing at the remaining changelings wearing trooper visages. Several other unicorns fired off projectiles in his direction. While screaming, he took an icicle to an armor plate on his flank, several flaming bolts narrowly missing his head. He charged off towards the nearest unicorn, stomping on the shieldbearer’s visor, enough to make it bleed luminous cyan and change out of its visage. The unicorns were yet to fire again when he closed the distance.

The masked mage kicked its hooves, which nearly broke in half when Thorn ended his charge with an uppercut, smashing the top of the shield through the hooves and into the changeling’s chin. Liquid splashed out the back of its head, turning from red to pulsating cyan as it splattered on the souvenirs. Its body got attached to the shield by a gash at the bottom of its lower jaw, allowing Thorn to move it around to absorb a wave of flaming projectiles. The liquid it was bleeding turned a dimmer green soon after its death.

The stallion smashed his head against the burning dead changeling hanging off the shield, leaving only a chunk of chitin. Jumping over the flaming, bubbling synapse, he galloped for the flamecasters. They split up, leaving him to run into a wall. Both of them threw their heads back and began to shudder, their horns channeling bright red auras. Thorn snarled and threw himself at the changeling behind him, knocking it off its legs and crouching next to it with his shield extended. The other one fired off its projectile, which got absorbed by the shield.

The crystallized material of the trooper’s shield turned a light pink, plates cracking and hissing. He yelped, banging on the shield with a free leg, folding it down. Growling and spreading bloody spittle all over, he turned to the changeling on the floor next to him and smacked the Captain’s blank-eyed face with the overheated shield attachment until he was hitting the floor. The device’s connection weakened, and he finished it off by hitting himself on the helmet, breaking the hot piece of armor entirely, leaving it to smoke on the floor. The heated up exterior caused a small fire, which died out before reaching a pile of posters on the floor. There still was smoke and heat filling the shop, with crackling of fire being audible among the breaking of wood and souvenirs, distorted changeling noises, Thorn’s growling breaths and his own voice screaming out incoherent words near the growth.

The stallion pushed away a pegasus that attempted to reach for him and sped towards the synaptic. It stayed still with its shield leg planted into the floor, the other raised in the air, the empty space above the helmet sparkling with cyan and green energy, as did its wide-open eyes and mouth. The synaptic’s slit pupils widened sporadically, stuck staring into the distance. They only began to move when the stallion neared in, kicking away a large statue that fell in the way. The changeling grunted in Thorn’s voice, putting its leg down and moving to get behind the shield. It replicated one of his growls when the trooper crossed the remaining distance in a heavy leap, grabbing the side of the shield with both his forehooves and yanking it to the side, resulting in an audible crack. The synaptic’s shield leg hung off at a twisted sideways angle.

Thorn moved in closer before it reacted, putting forehooves on its chest and pushing it down. When it resisted, he floored it by bashing his head into its snout, breaking his double’s nose. The changeling grit its teeth and growled, glaring into Thorn’s eyes, banging with its armored leg against his chest. The stallion took in a deep breath and shouted in its face, covering it in spittle and blood.

The changeling replicated the sound, turning it into a distorted high-pitched screech when Thorn grabbed the broken shield leg and began to stomp at the section that bled faintly cyan blood. The synaptic writhed and bucked underneath him, continuing to flail its intact leg, but it stopped and contorted in a Thorn-like howl when the stallion’s assault resulted in a much louder, wet crack.

He turned back to face the synaptic, who drooled simulated blood and leaked fake tears out his widened, bloodshot eyes. The shape of its horn faded in and out as it sparkled, momentarily lighting up before resetting. Thorn leaned in further, spilling bloody drool on his double’s broken nose, and put his hooves into a lock before bringing them down where the horn was meant to be. The changeling let out a shrill cry after the first hit connected, and after the second, pieces of chitin detached themselves from the horn, leaving it fully visible. The stallion let out a deep, raspy laugh, coughing in between cackles.

Smacking the changeling across its face and pressing it down with a hoof, Thorn bent down and bit into the horn. His teeth chipped into the fragile sections of the chitin left after it had been beaten in. The stallion thrashed its mouth rapidly, moving the horn back and forth until one of the larger cracks began to grow. Soon thereafter, most of the horn came off. Wielding it in his mouth, he raised his head and put his hoof away from the changeling. It bled half-cyan synapse blood.

“Fucking... ANI-” it began to gurgle out in his voice before being smacked again.

Thorn stared into its eyes for a second, while the changeling made no effort to move, staring back. With a muffled scream, the stallion brought the horn down, stabbing it into the changeling’s eyeball. Blood and synapse shot out in a high pressure stream. Screaming, laughing and coughing, Thorn hammered against the stem of the horn, bringing the tip deeper into his double’s head. More liquid spurted out with each strike. By the fifth strike, all the simulated blood became cyan synapse.

By the seventh, it faded to green. Thorn stopped hitting it once the stem reached the changeling’s eye socket.

He panted and wheezed, sweat trickling off his face onto the mashed mass of synapse and chitin beneath him. He breathed in a puff of smoke and began to cough. Blinking and tearing up, Thorn looked around the shop. The second flamecaster lay dead on the floor, scorched and contorted, spreading another small fire. Voices of ponies became audible, as the noises coming from the bead in his ear gave way to a steady low hum.

There was a crackle of electricity, and a shielder flew through a display case, shattering a golden globe. It returned to its changeling form before hitting the floor, spreading chunks of chitin and entire limbs around on impact. Some of the corpses were contorted and scorched, whereas others had deep cuts and gashes. There were dead changelings closer to the entrance, where both doors were laying flat off their hinges. The outside displays had been broken through.

Thorn rose back to his legs, shaking all over. He put a forehoof against the counter, and covered his mouth with the other, spraying blood over his synapse-stained, lightly burned coat. The trooper paused for a coughing fit. His head hung low and his lips moved silently when he stopped coughing, slowly walking forward. He stopped and staggered back when an armored equine emerged from behind a burning shelf.

The torch on its shoulder flashed in Thorn’s eyes. He shut his eyes and hung his head, exhaling and coughing sharply.

“You don’t look like a bug,” the equine said in a female voice. Her voice was muffled, coming from behind a lowered visor and a respirator. “You’re the one who’s been helping us out, right?”

“Yeah. I’m—” Thorn wiped away tears leaking from his reddening eyes. “Hold on. I’m not being fooled by—”

The mare waved a hoof and nodded her head in his direction. A unicorn and an earth pony in white and red armor joined her.

“Calm it, calm it, Corporal! We’re friendlies. I’m Lieutenant Dust Trail, shield duty. This is my brother, Lieutenant Ash Mead, he’s our shock mage. We’re DC-1. Met before deploying today, remember?” the mare asked, taking a step closer. She was dark green with blonde hair underneath her helmet, some strands stuck to her forehead. The unicorn next to her was the exact same colors, with a much shorter mane, and a large bruise giving half his face a blue tint. “This is Specialist Bitter Leaf, Ghost Wolves, first squad. You should let him take a look at you, he’s a medic.” The trooper in red and white armor, a grey earth stallion with a deep cut on his cheek, raised his buckler hoof. “There’s Lieutenant Redmane outside, he’s been helping us clear out the infestation, and then we’ve got—You get the point, right? These bugs aren’t smart enough to drag all that out of your brain, Thorn.” He exhaled and nodded. “Did anyone else-”

“Just me.”

“Shit…” the unicorn said, shaking his head. “I liked those guys.”

“Met them yesterday...” Thorn mumbled, looking down.

“We volunteered to clear out the comms. The smarter bugs were doing something to them, heck if we know what.” The mare approached Thorn. Her armor was damaged, missing pieces, as was her shield, the remains staying folded on the attachment. There were splatters of synapse and scratches all over her suit. Bruises and small cuts covered her face. “You helped out a lot. I saw you stomping out their feeding lots, good work figuring it out. Can you walk?”

“I think so.” Thorn’s knees buckled. His cheeks puckered, and a loud gulp came from his throat as he pushed a hoof against his mouth. He had a coughing fit moments later.

“Are you alright?” the stallion in white and red spoke up. The sterilizing mask covering up his mouth was stained with red and green splatters. “Corporal?”

Thorn closed his eyes and got down on his hooves, shaking in place. His teeth clattered. Breathing heavily, he removed his helmet, letting it fall down on the floor. He slowly sat down, placing his back against an intact wall, and pressed hooves against his temples.

“No,” he mumbled.

“No, no you’re not… Move him out of here, get him back to base.” The medical trooper extended a hoof in Thorn’s direction. He got up on his own. The shield mare and the mage rushed over to his sides, supporting him on the way to the exit while he shook his head. “Red, get this one over with,” Bitter Leaf called out.

The stallion dropped out of the other two troopers’ grasp once they made it outside, falling down on the grass in front of the souvenir shop and taking in deep, wheezing breaths. The waterfront was being taken over by a spreading fire, most of the infestation burning up alongside with the pods. Thorn stared at the fires, breathing quickly.

“They’ve… they’ve got…” he sputtered. “In those cocoons—”

“We know,” a weak male voice answered.

There was another unicorn sitting on a bench by the shop. His red mane was partly singed, and there were numerous black stains on his uniform. The orange stripe that ran down his side was almost entirely covered in synapse, and the wolf’s head picture on his chest was mostly scratched out.

Next to him, an earth pony sat on the bench, facing the ocean, a smokestick dangling out the side of his mouth. Over a dozen more were laying beneath him on the ground. He wore lighter armor, with the same emblem on one of his shoulders.

“They’re unconscious, not—”

“As good as dead,” Red cut him off. “Maybe worse. We were never saving them. They’ve been like this for more than a day now. Their brains are cooked.”

“Not all of them. I saw my Captain in there, we only crashed this afternoon.” Thorn groaned, struggling to get up. His knees buckled again, and the two troopers by his side helped him up. “They’re still adding ponies to these… things. They're using them to charge up centurions, and I don't know what else.”

“Well, shit.” Red shrugged. “That just means it’s even worse than we thought. We knew the centurion part, but... Look, you should—” The unicorn tapped the bead on his ear and mumbled. “Yes, I’m coming. This is the last one, right? I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Taking a deep breath, the unicorn gave the earth pony next to him a pat on the shoulder and went to the shop on stiff legs. He paused, holding his chest and hacking up a small piece of vomit, before entering.

“We’ll explain everything back at the holdout,” Dust Trail said, pointing to the heart-shaped domes of the refinery. “It’s a real mess.”

They walked past the other trooper on the bench, whose blonde mane was covered in blood. His eyes stared off into the horizon, obscured by cyan smoke. He hardly moved, safe for his chest when he breathed. He gave no reaction when Ash and Dust sat Thorn down on the other end of the bench.

“Red and Leaf will see that the feeder is right, pop all the bubbles, and be here in a bit. Don't mind him, he's...” Dust said. “He's going to need some help walking back. Red pulled him out, but... Any heavy stuff the medics carry is used up, but we should still have something to keep you in one piece.”

Thorn covered himself up, smearing synapse over his snout and blood over his hoof. After lowering it, he took a deep breath and observed the area.

Behind the bench and all throughout the area he crossed before entering the souvenir shop, there were fried, bludgeoned and cut up bodies of changelings. At least a dozen mostly intact bodies, with many having been reduced to malformed chunks of chitin. Far in the distance, on the other side of the harbor, a centurion's loud hissing and screaming accompanied bursts of fire being visible through cracks in the streets and alleys.

“City's been overrun for just a few days, and they already have centurions popping out. Sweet Celestia, we're in such shit... Any longer and they'll start being able to control them, too." He looked down at his hooves and sighed. His eyes turned to the field of bodies by the shop. "These, though... They were after me,” the stallion said, nodding at the corpses. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You did good. Real good,” Dust Trail replied. “We thought the second squad was all gone.”

“I got lucky.”

“I’ve seen you fight, dude. You’re a murder machine. We were afraid to walk up to you while you were killing that synaptic,” Ash Mead said, smiling. His smile held for a moment before fading away. “Who am I kidding. This isn’t luck. This is fucked. I won’t sleep for weeks.”

The unicorn looked at a burning coast guard building a short distance down the road to the refinery. It flew a ‘CHANGELINGS WELCOME’ banner, which remained untouched by the fire. The popping sounds the cocoons made as they burned came back to the bench with a light echo. A strong smell of ozone and burned flesh permeated the waterfront.

“Me neither,” Thorn whispered and yawned. He spat, sweat and blood triсkling into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he passed out, falling on the ground.

The ceiling fans filled the lounge with a low racket. D-Company and Ghost Wolves troopers occupied most parts of it, safe for a corner where discarded armor and shields were placed. Thorn gulped down a soft drink from a vending machine that had been broken open, and got himself on all fours. With increasingly steady steps, he left the corner where the wounded were placed, laying on mats, propped up by the couch cushions and any other soft objects that could be found.

The blonde earth pony stayed there, still staring ahead, ignoring Redmane, who remained at his side. A brown pegasus with a broken wing and a burn over half his face attempted to rise after Thorn got up, but only moaned in pain and grabbed his wing, staying down in the end.

Thorn passed by the pool table, where DC-1 members played cards, improvised out of sheets from a notebook. He kept his forelegs pressed against the bandages on his stomach and sides. The rest lounge’s wide paned windows opened up a view at the refinery’s work hall. He looked the emptied out tanks and the luminous green spills on the floor. Numerous containers were missing entire sides. The carcass of a huge, whale-like changeling creature, was melting down in the intake pool.

“So you’re not joking,” he spoke up. His jaw moved slowly. “This was… They thought this was okay?”

“Yeah. The medics looked through the papers. Turns out the way she ‘improved’ this joy was by making it go through an actual, real, living changeling. So they needed a big one.” Ash Mead banged the window he stood by with his flank. “I can’t believe it either. I thought that when they told us to take the proxies alive, even though the smart ones used them to take over fuck knows how many drones, it was to make new weapons. Look at this! They’re shitting out juice for these bugs to feel happy!”

“I’ve never… Luna and Celestia, how did they not see this coming?” Thorn buried his face in his bandaged hooves. “Of course the juice this thing puts out wasn’t what the Princess designed.”

The unicorn went silent. A moment later, he began to laugh. Starting with a peal of sharp cackles, he finished with a series of ‘ha’s.

“That’s what we thought.” He looked Thorn in the eyes.

The earth pony’s mouth hung open. He furrowed his brows, straining the bandage on the side of his head.

“What do you mean?”

“Euphorium still works exactly as it was intended to. Twilight Sparkle made it to simulate the sensation a pony feels when doing something with their special talent. Changelings feed on love, and since they got Princess Cadence killed, romantic love was not an option. This was her workaround,” Bitter Leaf spoke up, walking up to the windows. He took a long look at Thorn, motioning for him to move his head. He did so, showing the bandages that covered most of his forehead and temples. The medic nodded and continued: “She kept saying this would help them adapt to pony society, and in theory, it should have. Some of them did, in fact. It was fine while it was produced in New Canterlot under her supervision… And this was her trying to put out more, better joy. Even with this thing dead, she may have more stashed away. At least they're relatively harmless on their own.”

“There were procedures in place to hand out doses of euphorium to registered, well-behaving bugs, but…” Ash hung his head and kicked the floor. “She didn’t think to call us. Bad publicity, the changelings are afraid of us, boo-hoo.” He kicked the floor again and yelped, keeping his hind leg raised. Bitter Leaf glared at the unicorn.

“San Franciscolt must have looked good. The most changeling-friendly city of them all,” the medic said. “The highest official population since the Pact, a lot of sympathy among the common ponies-”

“What was she thinking?..” Thorn drawled, rubbing his hooves. He gasped and whined, sliding down the back of the couch. “They’ve been moaning that we haven’t been giving them enough for years. They stormed it, didn’t they? Strong synaptics controlled weaker ones, those gathered drones into mobs, and then they rushed the security… and take over the city.”

“No.” Ash chuckled and let out a deep, long sigh. “It was worse. This is San Franciscolt, Thorn. The changelings didn’t even get to the refinery before all the fanatical heartbleeders did the job for them. Broke in, beat the Royal Guard with their plastic armor and toy spears, and stole all they could to hand it out to all the poor, needy changelings.”

“Fuck me…” Thorn whispered. “They were the first to get put into those cocoons, weren’t they?”

There was a short period of silence. Ash left, heading for the vending machine. Bitter Leaf sat down on the couch next to Thorn. The conversations the other troopers were having maintained a level of ambient noise.

“About those ponies…” the grey stallion spoke up. He hung his head. “We thought they could be saved, too. These synaptic growths they leave around, they leave behind these... tumors. Looks like that's how they eat when they go feral and no one tells them to spy.”

“Get to the point,” Thorn muttered.

“Right. The Princess messed up worse than she thought. I hope that me and the other medics are wrong, but from all we could tell… They were gone. All that was left was…” He gulped and put a hoof over his face. “Twilight Sparkle never thought what would happen if a pony tasted euphorium. All previous releases had some degree of control to them, and it was always a minor dose - if a pony did taste some, it would feel funny. Some got their changeling friends to help make homebrews, of course they did. You know the basics, it’s why there is an actual crime scene in Equestria right now. And why Twilight must have thought she had to do this.”

“So?”

“So, now it’s not just a drink, or a pill, that makes you feel good for a few minutes. Now it’s got so much potency that it can scorch your brain out if you overdose. Or, if you’re a changeling, to make you…” Bitter Leaf turned away and shook his head. “Go feral. Like back in Canterlot. Only you keep your brains - you know you need to eat. You don't kill everything you see. You're dangerous."

Thorn did not reply, instead getting off the couch and walking outside of the lounge. The pastel pink and blue hanging corridors of the refinery were dimly crystal-lit and mostly empty. The chairs and notice boards had been taken out, forming the barricade at the main entrance, visible down below, where signs of battle still remained. The stallion put his hooves over the railings, looking over the foyer directly below the corridors. Pieces of Royal Guard armor were visible among the debris, glinting in the crystal light.

Moving onward, he approached the lounge’s service balcony. The door was half opened. Thorn pulled it open, revealing Ash and Dust. The mare sat on her haunches, breathing heavily, while the stallion paced around, grinding his teeth.

“Hey, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Did something happen? Is our extraction delayed?”

“Something happened, alright,” Ash said. “We had another message come in half an hour ago.”

“What is it?”

“Evac is fine, once they’re done blasting the city.” Dust shrugged. “But we’ve gone rogue. No more Emergency Situation Assistance Squads. We’re moving on the attack now.” She threw her head back and stared at the smoke-covered sky. “That’s what General Panther Claw said.”

“D-Company and Ghost Wolves command have given the go-ahead,” the unicorn added.

“...” Thorn’s body hit the wall to his side, his stubble scraping against the surface. One of his bandages shifted, spilling a light trinkle of blood. His jaw dropped.

“Yeah… just like that. No idea how to put to the others.” Ash chuckled and hiccupped. He lifted a can off the floor and gulped it down, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it off the balcony once he was done. “Fuck, I’m scared.”

“Me too. Like… they’re right. San Franciscolt was going to be a changeling hive if not for us. It’s all their fault. But I just don’t know...” Dust waved her hooves in the air and put them up against her face. “I haven’t felt this bad since the Crystal Empire.”

“Is… is it an order?” Thorn asked. He got himself away from the wall and stumbled over to the front of the balcony.

“They said you’re free to leave if you aren’t sticking with them. That they aren’t monsters, like the changelings. They only want loyal fighters,” the mare explained. “Apparently. That’s what was said.”

The stallion hung his head and breathed in deep. He tapped his hoof against the rail. Half a minute later, he bounced off the rail and walked over to the door.

“You know what… Screw it. I was never going to go on another mission after this. I don’t care. I’m leaving after evac.” Thorn began to hyperventilate. Beads of sweat ran down his face. He turned around before crossing the corner. “Why be afraid? We were fucked either way. Go tell them how it is.”

He went down the corridor to the forepony’s office, butting open the door and sitting down on the chair. The rest of the furniture had been taken out, only the bolted in chair and several consoles remaining. Whimpering and gasping for breath, Thorn smacked buttons at random, none of them working.

“So this is where we're at. This is what it's come to. Celestia, why is everything such shit now?” He gulped down a sniffle. “I'm done.”

The stallion leaned against the back of the chair and looked at his bandaged hooves. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. Half an hour later, the shouting coming from the lounge died down.

When the shielded carrier cage arrived another hour later, Ash and Dust were in the forepony's office with Thorn. Red joined them in the cage itself, carrying the wounded earth stallion with him. The ponies shared smokesticks before being picked up by the search and rescue troopers.

Thorn walked into the bar and squinted, adjusting to the low lighting within. An aging pink pegasus in a plain black shirt beckoned him over to a secluded table by a window. Shaking his head at an approaching waitress, the white stallion approached the pegasus and sat down on the other side of the table.

“Glad you could make it,” Vice said, putting a smokestick in his mouth. “Want one?”

“No need.”

“Alright. Feeling fine?”

“I’ll live. Don’t need to wear bandages anymore. It still hurts here and there, but I wasn’t injured that seriously.” The earth pony fiddled with an empty glass that stood on the table. “I had a few concussions, but that was it.”

“I can see you’re tough. And smart. And you happen to live in the area.” The pegasus put a hoof on the table and leaned in. He smiled at Thorn. “That’s why I hope you’re seriously considering my proposition.”

The earth stallion hummed and rubbed the thick stubble that covered most of his face. One of his hind legs tapped against the floor.

“Are you that sure, mister Vice?” he asked. “Is it really going to be such a big deal that I was part of ES/AS? Because it’s-”

“Kid, please, don’t fool me - or yourself. You spent two weeks in the hospital, there’s no way you weren’t keeping up with the news. I know they’ve got those fancy videodromes installed there for patients to watch.” The police pony looked straight into his eyes. “I doubt lying in bed all day is very entertaining. You’ve seen the headlines.”

“Well, I have, kind of… I wasn’t following the news all that much.”

“Don't be dense. You were right - there was no covering this one up. And I think you'll understand why I said it would have been better to hush it all up.” Vice cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "‘Equestria’s Bulwark Turns Against Us’. ‘Emergency Situation Assistance Squads Disbanded After Quarter of Troopers Rebel’. ‘All Urban Crime Skyrockets After Riot Forces Betray Equestria’. ‘Pact Citizens Experience Peak Unhappiness, Demand Action.’ And these are the shiny ones.” The older stallion’s wings shuffled. His eye twitched. “ ‘Advisors Predict Twilight Sparkle to Dismiss High Council after ES/AS Fiasco’. ‘Rogue ES/AS Units Suspected of Sabotage’. ‘San Franciscolt Not Inhabitable After ES/AS Terror Purge, Refugees Bemoan "Saviors" ’. Want me to keep going?”

“I get the picture,” Thorn answered, crossing his forehooves on the table. "Everyone's lost it."

Vice beckoned over a waitress and pointed at a few entries in the soft drinks part of the menu. Thorn undid the collar buttons of his shirt and reached for the window, puffing his nostrils when the handle refused to budge.

“You’ll cool down after a drink or two. Old Maroon isn’t the best, but it works.”

“Sorry, don’t drink.”

“Well, that would make talking shop a little dull.” Vice raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “So, do I have your attention?”

“It looks like this is my only shot at getting a job anytime soon, so yes.” Thorn looked up. He chewed on bits of his overgrown stubble. “What are you proposing?”

“First of all, I’m proposing that you give yourself a shave,” the pegasus smiled, leaning into the back of his seat. “You look like a yak. Keep a moustache if you want to get more comfortable with the job.”

“Noted.”

“Second, I’m proposing you get that rod out of your ass and live a little. These years are pretty bad, but we’re not lacking for entertainment, especially not here. Go to a disco, listen to some music, try out cocktails, pick up a girl, or whichever you prefer.” He looked away, tracing a waitress that walked past their table. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not talking out of my ass. Why are there night clubs on every street? Why does every other mare look like she fell into liquid rainbow? Why do you think we’ve got artists-so-called popping out all this beep-boop they call music these days? Why do all those lowlives hunt for cheap homebrew joy, even if it’s literal roach spit?” The older stallion leaned in and looked straight at Thorn, the wrinkles around his cheekbones tightening. “Every last one of us is wound tight. Either you go loose on your own terms, or… well, you get me.”

“...I guess.”

Vice shrugged again, nodded and smiled. The waitress came over, putting down a tray with two glasses of whiskey. The police pony pulled his over and took a sip.

“This sounds pretty lenient,” Thorn said. He rubbed his hooves against the glass, twirling it in place. “What is the catch?”

“Third. I’m a good boss, so long as you do what I need you to. As you can see, all I want from you is to be a reasonable equine being while you work for me. That, and one more thing…” His eyes scanned the surroundings. Thorn took a quick glance at a table where the pegasus’ eyes lingered. Two old griffons, a magpie and an albatross, sat there, playing chess. “We talked back at San Fran. I won’t mince words - I don’t like where this place is going, either. I don’t know why you decided to leave ES/AS, but I’m glad to have you with me, because I’m not sitting by while we rot. Your connections are going to be very useful one day. I already have a few friends that can help push things along, but having someone who can reach out to these guys…”

“So, one day, you’ll want to call in a favor?”

“That’s all I ask of you. Loosen up, move on with your life, do as I tell you to, don’t do as I don’t tell you to, and we’re golden.” The older pegasus smiled, his wrinkles tightening. He tilted his head. “Drink it.”

Thorn exhaled and gulped down his whiskey in one go, grunting as the liquid passed down his throat. He gasped and coughed, banging against the table with a hoof. His eyes went out of focus for a second.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?”

The stallion spent a minute regaining his breath. He chewed on his lip and propped his chin up with a hoof. Eventually, he burped, failing to cover his mouth on time.

“There you go.” Vice nodded. “So, what do you say?”

“I… I got something I’d like to ask, too,” Thorn slowly spoke up with a slight drawl.

“Go ahead.”

“Just… give me a desk job. I don’t want nothing fancy. Have me sort files or something. I don’t…” The earth pony hiccuped. “I don’t want action.”

“Hm.” The old pegasus paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sure. You’ll play a different tune on your second day, I’m sure. You don’t join the ES/AS with a pencil pushing cutiemark.”

Thorn paused. He raised his head and stared into Vice’s eyes. They sat in silence, neither of them blinking, for a minute. Eventually, Thorn lowered his head and looked at his forehooves that lay on the table.

“I got mine when I was six. Me and the guys played hoofball. One of them… don’t remember who… cheated. Kicked the ball right past me when he was outside the field.” The earth pony’s voice ceased to quiver and drawl. He took in rare, deep breaths. “I ran up to him and kicked him in the face. We were going to have a fight, and then they saw I got my cutiemark.”

“Well… I can certainly see why you ended up where you did. You’re not making a good case for yourself, though.” The pegasus puckered his lips and drew his eyes away before continuing. “If you want to know, I got mine for telling on that one kid everyone copied their homework from. It felt like the right thing to do.”

“Yeah. The right thing to do. What we’re… meant to do. As ponies.” Thorn paused. “When’s the last time you felt it?”

“That’s a silly question.” Vice smiled. “You feel that all the time when you’re in the right line of work. I’m not so bad that I need joy like the bugs or the lowlifes.”

"Lowlifes. Bugs. Look at all this... All our special talents. All that kept us together. This, this unity of ours. Try to find a way to feel that feeling again in all this, like how it was when the Princesses were alive, when there were no changelings... I know I'm not the only one who feels this." The white stallion called a waitress over and pointed at the same portion of the menu.

When she retreated, he shut his eyes and buried his face in his hooves.

"What're you leading to, kid?"

"The feeling. That feeling when you feel alive, like you're doing what you're meant to." Thorn took a deep breath and opened his face up, looking Vice in the eyes. "Look around, and try to imagine any of these ponies had it... this month, I don't know."

"Now, you gotta know most of these are probably not even ponies," he replied, chuckling.

“I’ve felt it once in the past five years,” Thorn said. “Do you know what I was doing?”

“What was it, Thorn?” Vice asked.

“I was tearing my squad apart in San Fran. Bones breaking, necks cracking, heads popping, blood everywhere…” The earth pony slowly raised his head, staring at the pegasus with widened irises. “I gouged my own eye out. It felt right.”

“...those were changelings, though, weren’t they?”

“I didn’t care at the time.”

Vice opened his mouth, but then closed it without saying anything. His eyes darted over to the table with the griffons another time. The pegasus scratched his chin and exhaled, looking up at Thorn.

Smiling gently, he tapped his hooves on the table and checked his wallet.

“Put all your drinks on my tab. For good. You’ll come around quick.” The police pony extended his hoof across the table. “Welcome to the force, Thorn Coat. I see nothing but good things for you, kid. Let’s make Equestria a better place.”