//------------------------------// // 1313: 2 // Story: They're EVERYWHERE! // by Nameless Narrator //------------------------------// Zamira whistles approvingly as she enters the wine cellar where 1313 is held. “Hmmm, no new bits lying around, no fresh puddles of blood-goo-whatever, and you’ve managed to sit up on your own. Are you feeling better or did I finally use enough bandages last evening to keep you from falling to bits?” “A bit of column A, a bit of B, I’d say,” 1313 pushes himself on all fours. Over the past two days, he’s managed to recover enough for all the bits of his body to stay together. *Crunch!* Almost. “Not again...” Zamira rolls her eyes. “It’s fine, I think something just set in,” he stretches his legs one by one, “Ooooh, that felt good. Just gonna crack my neck and-” *Snap!* “AAAAAAH- HURK!” she manages to aim her muzzle towards the bucket she’s been carrying with her. “My bad...” 1313 apologizes. “Blurrgh!” “You look kinda funny from this angle.” “Bluuuurhg!” “So… you gonna help me snap my neck back?” “Ughhhh...” “No no, it’s fine, I’ll wait until you stop throwing up.” “Nnnngh...” “Good accuracy, though. Most of it landed in the bucket.” “Ughhh.” “Might want to come back with fresh water and wring out that sponge.” “...stop… talking...” “Oh neat, you had eggs for breakfast? I thought ponies were all about vegetables.” She makes the mistake of looking into the now unpleasantly colorful bucket. “Bluuuuuuughrhgh!” “I did a mission with a female infiltrator a few months ago in Manehattan and we tried eggs too. Our mistake was trying changeling eggs to save bits. We thought they would be infused with love because, you know, changeling.” “...shut… u-HURK!” “Yep, green, exactly like that. They were supposed to be sunny side up but it turns out that changeling goo and oil don’t mix that well and the goo just floated from side to side, semi-liquid, and spread evenly over the pan. What we didn’t see was the oil stuck under it catching fire.” “HURK!” “Pretty much just like you right now- BOOM, right into the bucket! Ever thought about going pro with that kind of precision and force?” “...ugh...” “Lesson learned - just stick to normal ones or grab some oats. They’re easier to throw up anyway if you don’t have the chance to transform your internal bits to digest them. It's a pain in the plot to wash it all out with soap. You mess up the ratios and end up burping bubbles the whole morning, although I think it helped with the stage magician auditions that one time I worked for some blue unicorn mare at one point - she needed an assistant for her sawing in half trick. Her name was… Truck, Triscuit, Ticktits, something like that. We made quite the bank in Las Pegasus because all the unicorns were like - now open the box, it’s all fake, illusions, blah blah blah, so she opened the box and the entire first row chucked their dinners. Unfortunately, when the real unicorns became too suspicious, I had to take my share and leave. I think she’s doing time now for sawing her next assistant in half for real. She never quite got the hang of proper stage magic past colored lights.” “How…?” “I think using a chainsaw? You know, the old ‘rip it off like a bandaid’ mentality. I’m pretty sure that if she used a normal hoof saw like she did with me, the screaming would have tipped her off at least halfway through. I normally had to shapeshift my vocal chords and nerve endings away.” “How are you alive?!” the zebra has gathered herself enough to stop throwing up. That, or she just ran out of stuff. “The normal way - egg, larva, chrysalis, changeling.” “Now you’re just screwing with me.” “Just a bit. Look, this is normal for me. I break easily, I fix easily. As far as I know, it has something to do with the old hives. Some of the old changelings had really weird adaptations and when they got picked up into one hive the traits remained in their bloodlines- goo lines? You know what I mean. You ponies get blue eyes or a striped coat, and we get resistance to cold or a jigsaw puzzle biology. Speaking of chunks, are you done with the bucket?” “I’m gonna need another shower and a second breakfast… or at least a breath mint.” “I can help with that. The green isn’t just for show, our goo is kinda m-” “FINISH THAT SENTENCE AND THAT BUCKET GOES INSIDE YOU!” “I can turn my taste buds off and I don’t digest things. Let’s see which one of us throws up first when I start chewing.” “I miss when you were polite and happy that I stopped Blueblood from tossing you into a woodchipper.” “Sorry, I’m just messing with you, this wine cellar is pretty boring. I am happy about that and I am grateful you gave me this talisman thingy so that I could recover,” he grabs his neck and with a cracking twist he sets it back into a position compatible with equine life, “Ahhh, that’s so much better.” “I’m so glad I don’t have anything to throw up anymore...” Before their back and forth can continue, the clicking of the locked cellar door makes them both look towards the entrance. Blueblood winces as the acrid stench of vomit hits his nose but forces himself to go inside and slam the door behind him. With a look of utter disgust, he passes Zamira and looks at 1313. “You, change-thing, are you healthy enough to transform into a pony?” “Blueblood?” Zamira tilts her head. “Does it speak ponish?” he only glances her way. “I do,” replies 1313 quietly, his mind immediately reverting into the infiltrator ‘in danger’ mode. “So why didn’t you answer me? Do I need to order Zamira to break your legs again?” 1313 swallows any joking remark crossing his mind. So this is the kind of idiot I’m dealing with. “Yes, I can transform into a pony. Not for too long, though.” “How long?” “Depends.” “On?” “If you start spelling the words, I’m out,” Zamira rolls her eyes. 1313 smirks as Blueblood flashes her a scowl. “I want you to transform into me and stay like that until I say otherwise.” “Are you crazy?” Zamira takes a step backwards. “Why would I do that?” asks 1313. “If you don’t, you die right here and now,” Blueblood shrugs. Ahhh, holes. If I didn’t tell her about the healing, I might have gotten out of this in a few hours. On the other hole, I could have gotten cremated and there’s no coming back from that… I think. “Ah, a negotiator,” 1313 nods, “Yes, I can transform into you. You’re not particularly complex as far as physical appearance goes. I can’t stay like you for long, as I said, with the energy I have left. An hour or two at most.” Blueblood’s sudden sadistic smirk doesn’t fill the infiltrator with hope. His horn flashes, and a necklace with a big ruby appears in the air. “Do it,” he says. With some concentration and pained grunting, 1313’s body bursts into green flames, and when those die out there stands a perfect replica of Blueblood, swaying, sweating, and gasping for air. As 1313 does his best to recover from the exertion, the real prince puts the necklace around the infiltrator’s neck where it suddenly tightens. “Wha-?” “This is an explosive collar,” explains Blueblood. 1313 freezes, “Try to remove it, it blows up. Try to magic it, it blows up. Try to shapeshift, it blows up. Try to act like a bastard, there are a bunch of ponies in this estate and elsewhere who can blow it up with the right spell. Zamira will be one of them and she’ll be with you until I return.” “Return?” asks the zebra. “Yes. I’m leaving this forsaken city until they clear the bug filth from the streets and kill off any potential stragglers. Unfortunately, doing so in public would tarnish my reputation and, while I don’t care about opinions of rabble, my aunt asked me personally to show up at several planned events to show that the pony leadership is intact.” “I see. And how serious was the concussion that made you think that having a changeling take your place would be a good idea?” Blueblood huffs but doesn’t say anything about his bodyguard’s sharp tongue. “That’s why I said you’d be there to make sure nothing serious happens. If the changeling gets revealed, it’ll be your job to get rid of it and send a message to me about what happened. My contingency plan is to say that I was replaced before the invasion and imprisoned inside my seaside manor.” “I did just tell you that I won’t be able to maintain this form for too long, right?” asks 1313, straining to not simply jump at Blueblood while shapeshifting and blow them both up right there. “Then you’d better try harder,” sneers the unicorn and opens the cellar door, “Oh, Zamira?” “Yes?” “My full schedule is in my suite as well as the method of activating the explosive necklace, you will also receive a hefty reward from my personal funds in addition to what my father pays you for this once I return. Now, your first event is to meet with my parents who will be arriving to see if I’m okay in-” his horn flashes, “one hour, thirteen minutes.” He leaves. The infiltrator and the bodyguard exchange glances, both breathing out an exhausted: “I hate that guy...” *** “...they’reherethey’reherethey’rehere!” 1313 starts hyperventilating as he looks out of the slot in the main door of the Blueblood estate. The hoofsteps behind him do little to calm him down. “Stop shaking, we can do it. Aren’t you, like, used to this?” “I know nothing about my targets! I know nothing about the pony I’m impersonating! I know nothing about the circumstances of this meeting. This is terrible!” *Smack!* He touches his cheek reddening from Zamira’s slap. He knows she meant well, but... “Ugh ah gh-”  *Snap!* “-please don’t dislocate my jaw again. You’re stupidly strong.” “That will never not be disgusting. I’m so glad I haven’t eaten anything in the last hour...” she comments, “Look, your life's on the line and so is my big bonus from his father for protecting his son during an invasion that brought Canterlot to its knees. You’ve seen all there is to Blueblood, and most slip-ups you do should be easily explained by trauma. There is no ‘spark of good under the right circumstances’ part of him, he’s just a spoiled, bratty asshole. To everyone. His father, on the other hoof, is an upstanding guy. I’m working for him, not Blueblood, because that idiot couldn’t recognize a good warrior if his life depended on it, which it sometimes did so far. Blueblood made sure the guards his father recommended were all female and-” she winks at 1313, ”-pretty hot if I say so myself. He makes us wrestle in mud or oil on the weekends, that should tell you enough about how much he really cares about us ‘guarding’ him. Anyway, I digress, his father is a stuffy noble but an honorable one, and, as I repeatedly stated, he pays well. As for his mother, I’ve met her only once before so I can’t tell you much more than she really loves Blueblood. You’re gonna have to improvise there, but that’s your whole schtick.” “I don’t-” “I can make you go boom boom right now,” she gives him a smug, wide smile. “-think there’s a single way this can go wrong.” “See? You just need to believe in yourself more. And I’ll be here with you to help with any and all too difficult questions.” “I can’t decide whether I hate or love you...” grumbles 1313. “A bit of column A, a bit of column B,” her expression turns serious, “Now shut up and put on your official evil shape shifting horsebug face.” As a pair of well-dressed unicorns enter the lobby, flanked by a group of twelve only unicorn guards, 1313 realizes that they’ve made a grave mistake right from the get go. WHAT ARE THEIR NAMES? WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THEIR NAMES?! “...hello blast zone, my old friend...” he breathes out. “What are you muttering to yourself, Blueblood?” asks the leading unicorn who, judging by his tall and naturally broad build similar to the prince’s must be Blueblood’s dad. Also, the same white coat, blond mane, and long horn are good enough of a clue. The strange part is that his mother bears pretty much the same color scheme. Well, it’s not as if nobles don’t often try to ‘keep the bloodline pure’. Family trees? More like family recycling symbols. “Just a sigh of relief that both you and mother are alright,” replies 1313. From the slightly unexpected twitch of BB’s mother’s head he assumes he did something suspicious but for the love of holes he can’t figure out what, and she doesn’t say anything. “I admit I'm a touch surprised you’re in such good shape yourself.” “Zamira and the others did an excellent job keeping me and the staff safe.” Another fraction of a second of surprise from the mother but this time coupled with a slightly raised eyebrow from the father. BB senior looks directly at Zamira. “Has my son been hit particularly hard in the head or something?” “No, Lordship, that’s just stress. It might surprise you about as much as a meteor suddenly hurtling towards us but he did hold off an invader who managed to break into his suite through the roof long enough for me to deal with it,” says Zamira with a polite bow. I suppose there IS a little bit of truth there. He did scream like a little bitch before Zamira arrived. “That certainly does not sound like him. Are you sure he hasn’t been replaced by one of those monsters while you were looking away?” 1313 freezes. “Suddenly polite and marginally competent?” Zamira smirks, “I can imagine why you’d think that. Don’t worry, Your Lordship, once the whole thing settles down, I’m sure he’ll return to his old self.” The infiltrator only waits as the two talk about him as if he wasn’t there while BB’s mother approaches him with a soft smile and wraps her forelegs around his neck. Hmmm… it’s clear that they know how irritating their son really is but they still must be harboring some love for him. And so, he carefully hugs BB’s mother back, and closes his eyes as the warmth of her love washes over him. Until she hugs a little too hard. “Ow ow ow ow ow...” he carefully pushes her back, “I’m sorry, mother. I love you but that bug monster beat me up pretty badly. I might have to ask Zamira for some training.” Both parents’ eyes lock on him, their lack of attention allowing Zamira to quickly shake her head.  Okay okay, too far. How to save this? What would Blueblood…? “And to keep a close look on the assets you hired to protect me, of course. After all, it did take her awfully long to get to me when I was in danger,” he adds. Her eye twitches. He smiles. I’m gonna make you work for your extra money, stripey lady.