“Come on, Nightbite!”
The unreformed changeling of that name looked up to his friend. She looked back at him, her magenta eyes wearing a worried expression. “Come on, Night! Move!”
Nightbite looked up. “I ain’t gonna make it, Midnight. Go on. You can still make it.” He waved a hoof at her.
Midnight frowned and uncovered her face. “No, I ain’t leaving you, Night,” she said, her voice starting to break.
“Go on! I can hold the RG’s! You need to get outta here! If you don’t, they—”
She slapped the changeling across the face. “Pull yourself together, Night! We’re getting home! And now!”
He shook his head a bit, then looked at her. He opened his mouth to speak when he heard voices behind him, more than likely from the Royal Guards chasing them. He looked back, then sighed. “Alright, I’m coming,” he said, holding his head low.
Midnight smiled and led him out of the alleyway. They looked around, watching for any Royal Guards. “We’re clear, let’s go,” Midnight whispered, motioning her hoof.
They two changelings walked out onto the street, about to raise their disguises when…
“BUCK!”
Nightbite looked over to see that Midnight had almost taken a magic bolt to the leg. The two quickly took cover behind a wagon as the ponies around them broke into a panic.
Midnight looked over to see a few guards running after them. She looked at Nightbite. “Come on! Let’s go!”
“Where?!”
“Come on! Let’s run to those wagons!” she said, standing up and running. Nightbite sighed, and followed behind. The pair ran over to the wagons.
Midnight unslung her bag and pulled out a stick of dynamite. She turned around and threw it at the guards. They continued running, stopping at a wagon stocked with dynamite. Midnight smiled at the wagon's contents. She slid her bag in, lighting one of the sticks.
“Alright, dynamite set, now we have to— Clamp! —Ahh!” She winced, before looking at her hoof, which had been lodged by a heavy wooden door. She looked over to the latches that held the door, noticing both of them worn out and rusted. “Buck I think my hoof’s broke. Dang it hurts.” Nightbite grabbed onto her. She looked at him. “Okay! Pull!”
They tried pulling her free, but she didn’t move. Nightbite started having an enteral panick as the sound of the fuse sizzling continued.
“Ah crap...“ Nightbite muttered, now sweating.
“Don’t worry about that fuse! Try again! Pull!“ she said again, now yanking and tugging.
They tried again, but to no avail.
Midnight muttered a curse under her breath, then looked at Night, who continued to pull on her hoof in vain. “We’re outta time! You gotta go now!” Nightbite didn’t listen and continue trying to pull her out. “Nightbite! We’re outta time! You gotta move, now!”
“No! I can get you outta here. If I can just—”
She looked over to see the guards getting closer. She grabbed Nightbite. “It’s okay, Mitchell. I’ll see you on the other side.”
Nightbite’s eyes widened. “What?! No!”
She threw him down a nearby hill.
He rolled down the hill, grunting as he landed carapace first on the ground. He got up and looked up the hill, only being able to helplessly watch as the wagon exploded, sending shrapnel and stray dynamite everywhere. “No! Midni—” a stray dynamite blast sent Nightbite flying back. He tried to stand up only for a tree to fall onto his right leg. After the smoke, shrapnel cleared, he looked around the smoking area.
He tried pulling his leg out, only for pain to shoot through it. He felt just as trapped as…
He sighed, and took his knife. He winced and lowered the knife, beginning to amputate his leg, and he started dragging himself.
~~~
Mitchell woke up a sweat. He looked around the room, before looking over to his nightstand. There sat a picture of Midnight, her bright magenta eyes, wooden goggles, and her pink bandanna staring back at him. He kicked his wooden leg back and forth. He heard hoofsteps and he looked up to see an unreformed, blue-fanged changeling at his door. “What do you need, Blue Fang?”
“Uh, Sarge? We need you.”
The unreformed changeling got up. “Uh… okay.”
The two changelings walked through the hallways, finally stopping at the throne room. They walked in, greeting seven more unreformed changelings, Thorax, Pharynx…
And a few Royal Guards.
They walked over to the other changelings. “Hey Fangs,” Mitchell greeted others.
The one-winged changeling walked up. “Hey Blue, hey Mitchell.”
“Hey, Broken,” Blue greeted his older brother.
Brokenwing smiled.
The others walked over. “Hey, any idea why Shining and the RG’s are here?” Dagger, a short and cocky changeling, asked.
All eyes turned to the brothers.
Shining stepped up. “A few hours ago…”
~~~
Shining and a group of guards dawning gas masks trotted through a facility. “Anything?” Shining asked.
A guard pulled out a barrel. “Uh… we got chem’s here,” he said, noticing a chemical symbol on the barrel.
Shining raised his crossbow. “Alright, let’s go.”
They got onto the wagons. “Come on, let’s go,” Shining said. They started to drive when.
“INCOMING!”
Shining noticed a few arrows flying at them. The wagon in front of them was filled with arrows, one of which was tipped with dynamite. The wagon exploded in a fireball, killing the occupants. Another dynamite tipped arrow hit next to the wagon Shining was in, sending it tumbling away.
Shining felt a hoof wrap around him. “I got you Captain! I got you!”
Another guard was dragging him, while another fired at the approaching force, before both of the guards were struck by arrows. The one dragging Shining was instantly killed while the other was only injured. He looked up to the Captain, but couldn’t recognize him due to the mask.
“Who the buck are yo— ARGH!” An arrow struck the guard in the back, killing him.
An unreformed changeling ran up to the dead pony and examined him. “Hey! Over here!” Another changeling ran over. “Not Shadow Guards.”
The other changeling looked at him for a while. “Royal Guards.”
Shining stared at the changelings as they departed from the scene, taking the chemicals with them.
~~~
“Why should we care about your little chemical problem?” Hivehunter, a red schemed unreformed changeling with a chipped horn.
The others seemed to agree. Well, excluding two. Stinger, a changeling with chipped fangs, and Mantis, a changeling wearing goggles, stepped up. “Well, what kinda chemicals are they?” Stinger asked.
Mantis nodded. “Yeah, is it like chlorine, or pesticides?”
“Well, we know it’s poison,” Shining said.
Zenex, a nymph with heterochromia iridium, clung onto one of Hive’s hind legs. “P-Poison?”
Hive rubbed the nymphs head. “It’s alright, Zenex. The poison isn’t coming here.”
Shining looked over. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Kydra, female changeling with dark magenta eyes, looked over. “Why do you say that?”
Shining sighed. “As I said, they were unreformed changelings.”
The Fangs narrowed their eyes.
Shining gulped. “No offense, of course. But still, they may not be the same as you guys,” Shining pointed out. “What if they try and use it against—”
“Sir!”
They looked over to an approaching Manehattan guard. He looked panicked. “Sir… there've been detonations at Manehattan.”
Shining’s eyes widened. “Detonations?”
“Yes. We pushed’em out, but it didn’t have to happen.” The soldier gritted his teeth. “We’ve been tracking those buckers for hours, but you sent us in half-flanked. We don’t have a chance in Tartarus with the ERLW Treaty—”
“The ERLW Treaty is the very bucking reason you’re sorry flank is standing here!” Hivehunter snapped, violently.
The other Fangs nodded. Thorax looked over. “I’m with Hive. The ERLW Treaty is the reason we had no casualties during the Second Changeling-Pony War.”
The Fangs nodded more aggressively. Like it or not, they, including Zenex, fought in the War, and never forgot the experiences.
Thorax looked at them. “Oh, sorry.”
Hive rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Thorax,” he said, rubbing Zenex’s head, his green and blue eyes closing a bit.
Broken looked at them. “Well, I wish we could help, but we’re not soldiers anymore.”
Thorax and Pharynx looked at the Fangs. Thorax bit down on his lip. “Well… not yet,” Thorax said.
The Fangs looked at him. Mitchell spoke up. “With all due respect, we only just got out of that Tartarus hole. Even if we do accept, we can’t fight their weapons without some of our own.”
Pharynx nodded. “He’s right. Crossbow to hoof isn’t fair. They’ll need weapons.”
Mitchell put a hoof to his chin. There had to be someone who could make weapons. He looked at his wooden leg, then it hit him. “Thorax, can I borrow a quill and some paper?”
Thorax tilted his head. “Why?” he asked.
“Trust me.”
Thorax nodded, then levitated the items he requested over. Mitchell took the items and walked over to a nearby table. He dipped the quill into an ink jar and began writing.
Dear Borax...