//------------------------------//
// Jackboots and Terror 
// Story: Changing Ways 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

Morning. A drizzly morning.
Rain pittered and pattered on the remains of timber, stone, and glass scattered about. The streets washed out into marshes, their cracked surface softening into sticky muck slushed by hooves rattled in chains.
Changelings marched through the streets of Ponyville with not a single one to watch their dull parade against the inclement weather, their peers busy with other work such as transporting belongings in crates and training recruits with hisses and weapons on the side. Escorted by these terrifying convoys were ponies linked together in metal chains, heads low against the stymied sunlight, manes frizzled by the rain, hooves slushed with muck.
Two mares among them, one with puffy pink hair, the other with flowing pink hair, both of them beaten on the neck with a stick.
The first one growled at him. “Hey! Don’t do that! That hurts, ya’ know!”
The other shushed her. “Quiet, Pinkie! They’re only going to hurt us more.”
Pinkie looked at her changeling guard straight in the eye. “Don’t you know how to treat your prisoners right?”
Pharynx smiled, hovering above the ground and patting the beating end of the stick pervaded with splinters. “Does it look like I care? Besides, you’re going to face the queen herself and my behavior will be the least of your worries in the trial.”
“Trial?” Pinkie blurted out, raising her voice while giving him a mean look. “Every one of you should be in trial, not us? What did we ever do to you?”
“Oppose us every step of the way?” he suggested. “Spread lies and false propaganda about our competent and venerated queen?”
Pinkie rubbed her chin. “Good points.”
Fluttershy glared at her.
Pinkie gulped, holding a hoof up in the air despite her chains. “Uh, I mean, bad points, bad points! You get zero points for capturing us, because it’s wrong! Not moral! A big no-no!”
“We’re the ones making up the rules here,” Pharynx said, pointing at himself. “You follow us, OK?”
“Even if you’re going to kill us anyway?” Pinkie asked, attempting to sound suave.
“You’re an annoying pony.”
Pinkie smiled. “Why, thank you!”
Fluttershy let out a quiet “Why?”
Pharynx groaned. “The sooner we mete out your sentence, the better. I hope she gives you a quick death—if only I could turn off my ears when we feed off of you for breakfast!”
As they marched on, trudged on through the muddy road.
In the distance, thunder roared and a speck of lightning flashed over the mountains.



Past the murky river and the fractured bridges stood a sad structure: town hall. Fenced by the rickety, meager leftovers of what could be called ‘homes’, the town hall reposed in its sodden state plundered and humbled. Colorful flags lay on the ground, some tattered and some burned. Its last floor had toppled to the ground, leaving the town hall with a missing roof, cut off stairs visible from the outside—the last floor itself was much worse, a shredded heap of refined architecture undone.
Before town hall were posted a horde of changelings stationed beside cages of ponies. Some of their prisoners screamed, others still tried to get out of their predicament by banging on the bars of their cages.
None got out, their sentries joking in front of their desperate figures sulking in the rain, in their solitary jails out in the open.
As the march of new captives arrived with their changeling escorts, many in their cages gasped, pointed and gestured at those within.
“No! They got them, too?!”
“Mayor Mare?! We placed our trust in you!”
“And there...it’s all hopeless now!”
With the new prisoners keeping their heads down under the rain, their hair drenched and soggy—more than a few wilting in the mud.
Town hall’s double doors swung open, revealing a line of changelings hauling empty cages. They plopped them on to the ground with resounding thuds and splashing mud, taking out locks from behind their ears.
Pinkie shivered. “Oh, no. This isn’t good! Why are there cages?” Hugged Fluttershy who stood resolute against the weather and the embrace. “Please don’t tell me they’re going to—“
A surging laugh from inside town hall.
The changelings turned their heads to the still open doors gaping into deep darkness.
Someone stepped forward from within.
She stood tall, twice as tall as the average changeling. Her figure was shattered by her holey legs, her broken mane, and her cracked wings. On her head prevailed a small black crown over her jagged horn.
Chrysalis stood tall, at the foot of the doors.
The changelings bowed down to her, kneeling their heads close to the mud.
Chrysalis chuckled, facing the pony hostages. “I’ve heard that you’re the last of this little town.”
She flew high up, then landed down with a rumble.
The prisoners, caged or chained, shielded themselves from the splashing mud with their hooves.
Chrysalis walked forward, glaring at each of the caged ones who responded with a scared cry or a mean glower. “All that’s left alive. Be grateful that I know mercy.”
Right before the new batch of prisoners, she stopped.
Looked at Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy, at everyone else there.
“You know how it will go for ‘heroic’ ponies like you meddlers. You may seek the sweet release of death to end your misery. Well,” licking her lips, “I’m a rather good person who sees the value of life.”
Pinkie clung on to Fluttershy. “Why didn’t we have a Plan B?! They’re going to do the thing! Th-The—“
Pharynx slapped Pinkie on the head, confronted Chrysalis with a cold gawk. “With all due respect, your Majesty, can we get to the point?”
Chrysalis grunted, then snorted. “We’ve waited a long time for this. At least relish the moment.”
Pharynx groaned again. “If you say so.”
Chrysalis laughed, turning back to the two mares. “Now that you’re all complete, you’ll be ready. The hive is overcrowded with full-course meals like you, so I guess we’ll have to set up another, shall I say...granary.”
Pinkie shrieked, pulling Fluttershy’s hair back and forth. “No, Chrysalis! Anything but that! I don’t want to be taken—they’re going to take all of me away!”
Chrysalis unlocked her chains, lifted her up, and threw her into an open cage which closed shut.
A changeling inserted a lock into it.
Snapped shut.
Pinkie punched the bars of her cage to no avail. She stared at the queen, mouth jittering and eyes wide open. “Don’t you have anything else?! I’m a really bad offender against your hive, Chrysalis! You could, uh—”
Chrysalis rocked the cage with her hoof.
Silencing Pinkie, backing her to the corner, leaving her moaning and weeping.
“Like I’ll be tricked into doing the same mistake over and over again?” Chrysalis chucked once more. “A good ruler never repeats her mistakes, and I’ll ensure that right here.”
Twirled her head towards the rest of the prisoners and their escorts.
“Guards, take them to the cages.”
They unlocked their prisoners’ chains and dragged them to the cages. Fluttershy kicked and punched with her hooves, but she struck only the open air, her guards deftly dodging her flails.
Chrysalis turned her back on them, smiling.
In the rising rain.



Inside the husk of town hall, a grand round hallway opening up to the gray sky above. The rain kept pouring down into it, washing the floor and wetting the fallen banners in fresh, cool water.
Makeshift shelves hung upon the walls, housing dozens of cages and their captives. Few slept, for most of them were trembling in their cells, their hooves shaky as they watched the ground and put their ears out of the cages for a sound, to detect anything out of the ordinary.
Then, hoofsteps, puddle splashes.
Those asleep opened their eyes, got up.
Down below, on ground floor, was Chrysalis and her minions bringing more caged prisoners into the hall.
Gasps, screams, cries from above.
Weeping. A pony weeping and sobbing at the cold, unfeeling floor of her cage.
Chrysalis let out a sigh of relief. “Guards, place them at the center where they belong.”
So they did, the changelings carrying the new cages to the center of the hall.
Their cages pounded by the raindrops.
Chrysalis rubbed her forehooves, took a step back, and lifted her head.
“Ponies of Ponyville! Behold the ruins of your town! Behold the corpses of your stubborn friends! Behold the fate of those who dare refuse our reign! Impenetrable and unassailable, hm? That is only a ruse you tell yourselves, and if you keep telling yourself that, you are a fool! Everyone you know is either dead or within our clutches, suffering for the wrongs they’ve done to us! You ponies ought to know better than to fight against us—you are outnumbered five to one, ten to one, twenty to one, even fifty to one!”
“We’ll never give up our beloved Equestria!” a pony yelled.
Then, silence past the pitter-patter of the rain.
Whispers exchanged between the changelings.
Chrysalis grumbled. “Who dares defy me at the verge of utter, inescapable defeat?!”
“I do!”
Chrysalis turned her head, looked up at her.
A unicorn walked up to the front of her cell, marred with scars on her face. “We may be defeated. You can kill us, lock us up here, drain the love from us until we’re dry and empty! However, there’ll always be somepony else to rise up against you! If not us, then somepony! If not somepony, then anyone!”
Chrysalis laughed, opening one side of her mouth to unveil a vicious fang. “Because you, hm, love Equestria?”
The pony flinched. “What d-did I get myself in—“
Chrysalis glowed her horn, opened her mouth.
Hollow, sputtering vibrations.
A pink stream pulling out from the pony’s body. “No, no! I-I c-could f-f-feel...like I-I’m...”
The changelings cheered their queen on as Chrysalis sucked the stream of love out of the unicorn.
The pony wavering, falling to the cold cage floor, lifting up a green hoof only to let it fall limp. “Y-You can’t...y-you can n-never...”
“Oh, yes, I can always!” Chrysalis shouted, intangible love seeping into her mouth.
Everyone in the cages muttering across their confined spaces. Some closed their eyes at the sight of it, at the sight of this pony depleted, squeezed out of such an emotion.
Then, Chrysalis closed her mouth.
The stream disintegrated.
That unicorn collapsed, eyes shut.
The changeling crowd broke out into applause, jeering at the ponies in their cages.
Above the ovation’s din, one could, with strained ears, hear the cry of, “Lyra, no!”
Chrysalis laughed, shaking her head at the survivors. “You see, ponies, it is futile to run away from us. I’ve promised that we will come to Ponyville, and we have. For that, you’ll be used up for every ounce of love we could squeeze from you—and, if we run out...I’ve found ways to reuse and recycle.”
Pinkie gasped in her cage, hooves on her head. “What did you say?!”
Chrysalis smiled. “It’s a shame we only discovered it after well over a thousand years of existence, but, as they say...better late than never.”
The whole caged audience slowly stood up, rising to their hooves at that.
“Yes, ponies! Haven’t I told you that not even death could help you? For, I’ve found a way to generate love out of you endlessly until your death—and maybe beyond, too!”
Pinkie bit her hooves.
Fluttershy kept standing in spite of her rickety legs knuckling, buckling down.
The murmurs grew into exclamations, shouts, hooves stretched out of their cages, kicks, riots, changelings sent to calm them down, lightning cracking the sky with its thunder, scuffles by the cages, more cages falling, several changelings charging and sucking the love out of their various prisoners—
All the while, Chrysalis looked up to the darkening sky.
The rain becoming a storm as leafless trees bent under the gale.



It was night again.
A lone changeling sat all by himself at a dilapidated train station. Much of the hay on the roofs had fallen apart, leaving behind a wooden skeleton of straightened logs. Windows had been broken; the little safes and shelves had been robbed, filled with nothing but dust, dirt, and air. Barren was the waiting area, its seats unoccupied but with more dust.
Thorax rested his head on the wall, lying half of his body on the boarding platform. The railway was infested with wild flowers, the metal rusted into red and brown oblivion.
As a sole tumbleweed rolled by the plain field.
He sighed, hunching up his hindlegs closer to his face. “What am I gonna do?”
Looked up to the clear sky, seeing the stars twinkle and the moon shining upon him.
“Is there a compromise? What compromise is there?”
Rustling.
Thorax closed his mouth, spun his head left and right. “Wh-Who’s there? Y-You’re not getting out of my sight, pony tr-trash!”
Another changeling flew round the corner of the station. “Thorax, it’s me, Ocellus!”
Thorax placed a hoof to his chest. “Ocellus! Y-Yeah, th-that’s definitely you, but...why are out here? Aren’t you supposed to be at the big feast they’re throwing at the town hall?”
Ocellus nodded. “I was ‘supposed’ to be there. Doesn’t mean I could skip a few minutes.”
Thorax stood up, moaning a bit as he did. “But, why?”
Ocellus smiled. “I noticed you were absent. I came here to fetch you.”
Thorax gulped. “To f-fetch me?”
Ocellus nodded. “Yes, to fetch you.”
Sweat poured down his face. “Uh, what exactly do you mean by fetching me?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Get you to town hall. Accompany you to the feast. Eat with you.”
Thorax recoiled, stepping back. “Uh, thanks, but, no thanks.”
Ocellus scratched her head. “That’s strange. You already got your fair share earlier, huh?”
He gulped. “Yeah. A little from a married couple.”
Ocellus gasped, beaming with excitement. “Do they have kids?”
He balked at the question. “N-No!”
“Aww! They’re the best kind! Just five or ten minutes of their love alone would be enough to get me energized for half a day’s work! If only I could get my hooves on more solid spouses.”	
Thorax proceeded to rub his teeth. “Uh-huh?”
Ocellus looked back at him. “Sorry about that. I’m famished from organizing the whole town, securing our grip on this important location. Did you know we are transferring more of our elites here? Turns out Ponyville has an abundance of resources and equipment—more abundant than we thought! You know where Sugarcube Corner is, right?”
Thorax nodded. “Yeah, how c-could I forget?”
“It’s a bakery and it’s complete with lots of kitchen equipment. Stoves, ovens, rolling pins...all we need to do is to teach some how to cook, and we’ll keep the ponies well fed.”
“A healthy pony is a lovely pony,” Thorax droned, looking away from her.
Ocellus raised her head, eyeing him with worry. “What’s wrong, Thorax? Do you feel sick? I-I could send for Pharynx and—“
“N-No!”
She blinked. “What?”
Thorax retracted his outstretched hoof. “Sorry for that, but...my brother must be very busy with d-dinner right now. I w-wouldn’t want to bother—he has quite the short temper...i-if you didn’t know that already.”
Ocellus giggled, trotting to his side. “I’ve been on the receiving end of his rants more than I want to.”
Thorax laughed, cooling down.
And the both of them sat on the boarding platform, resting their heads on the wall, looking at the picturesque sky above with its twinkling stars.
It was a peaceful night, smelling of the rain just past.
“I’ve heard of you before,” Thorax said, placing his front hooves on the back of his head and resting on them like a hard pillow.
“You already said that.”
Thorax covered his mouth. “Oops! Uh...y-yeah, I’ve heard of you. But, to tell you the truth—“ chuckled a bit “—I…didn’t hear any stories about you at all.”
Ocellus leaned her head the other way. “So, are you asking me to tell those stories to you?”
“Maybe? Maybe not?”
She giggled. “You’re quite the oddball, Thorax. No wonder Pharynx likes to rib on you.”
Thorax forced out laughter, canning his chortles in his mouth. “Y-Yeah! That’s tr-true, very true.”
She rested her head on a hoof. “Well, where should we start?" Paused, made an upbeat play of the lips. "I didn’t do much before the war. I was one of ‘those changelings’.”
“The researchers?” Thorax asked.
Ocellus shrugged her shoulders. “Not exactly. We research, but we are not scientists—not in the pony sense of the word. I didn’t take any lead roles there; I was just a lackey.”
Thorax sighed, letting a foreleg swing. “That’s tough. Lackey to a researcher? That’s double the trouble.”
Ocellus looked down on the wooden boards which made up the platform. “No respect for changeling researchers, innovators, pioneers—no respect for changelings who do things other than sneak, replace, and fight. ‘Weakling’, they called me.”
Thorax looked away, closing his eyes.
“At least they’re kind enough to give us their stored love, but you know the rest.”
He turned his head back to her, putting on a smile.
“Then, when she called for Canterlot preparations...I didn’t want to be bogged down by insults, so I volunteered. I was assigned the role of taking out a certain Fleur de Lis, a celebrity. Replacing her was easy—she was sitting by the garden of a fancy mansion while her fiancé was away. Took her out, tied her up inside a large bag, hid her inside a tree, signaled my assistant to get the body, and sat on the same place. After that, it was easy; didn’t take long for me to get into her ticks and mannerisms because I already studied her a full two weeks beforehoof. Fancy Pants didn’t suspect a thing.”
“Fancy Pants?” Thorax asked.
“That was the name of her fiancé,” Ocellus explained. “I was only supposed to keep him company while the rest of us tried to figure out how to get to him. The long moles tried their best to get him into a vulnerable spot, but he never fell for our plans—never suspected us, but he never fell for them because he always had a full schedule for the day.
“Fleur de Lis was invited to the wedding. She was not a bridesmaid, but she was a guest of honor, so I had a significant say on how the wedding would be run. I was able to convince Commander Spearhead to lower the number of guards for the actual ceremony in order to ‘not ruin the mood and not make the attendants uncomfortable’. He fell for it and he did not even attend his own captain’s marriage! How funny some ponies are.”
Thorax gulped. “Y-Yeah. How f-funny.”
“After the Canterlot attack, I got recognized by the queen herself and got promoted. Not higher, but...sideways.”
“Sideways promotion?” Thorax repeated.
Ocellus scratched her head again. “This is very concerning. You’re a very forgetful changeling.”
Thorax sighed.
“I got shifted further in the covert corps, away from the actual fighting. Impersonated a few notable ponies myself, and even a griffon.”
“Was his name Gary?” Thorax asked.
Ocellus blinked, staring at him blankly. “Uh, no. Never heard of him. Why’d you ask?”
“Um, n-no reason. Just thought ‘Gary the Griffon’ sounds well in my head, and the griffons with their...letter ‘G’ and their names that are...strange a-and all...eh...heh….”
Ocellus kept staring at him blankly. “Are you OK, Thorax?”
Thorax stood up. “Me, not OK? O-Of course, I’m OK! I’m very, very OK! Why wouldn’t I be OK? We defeated Zecora and her annoying group of ponies! Why, if I were more than OK, I would be dancing my way into town hall and eat as much love as I could from those loser ponies! It’s a d-dream come true!”
“Then, why aren’t you celebrating?”
Thorax gulped. “Because I-I’m very tired from the trip here! Had to make a couple stop-overs all the way from the Badlands, b-but, that’s alright—another night of sleeping and—“
“It’s been a full twenty-four since you’ve arrived,” Ocellus said, dead-pan, standing up.
Thorax twirled a hoof around. “That’s r-right?”
Ocellus shook her head, about to burst into another bout of giggling. “You are an oddball, aren’t you?”
Thorax nodded. “Yes, please, I’m an oddball!”
Ocellus flicked her wings. “Well, OK. If you feel hungry, just come by town hall. Chrysalis is already using the placards and flags! We’re going to have a long night tonight!”
And she flew round the corner and disappeared.
Leaving Thorax alone, standing by the platform and beside the lonely train tracks.
He slumped down by the wall and looked up at the sky again.
Cold, smelling the aftermath of rain.