//------------------------------// // CH 10 - Mr. Misfortune // Story: The Boy and the Bug // by Mr B //------------------------------// One Month Before The Storm The late autumn sun began its descent in Equestria’s skies, casting a beautiful shine over Canterlot.  Street lights reflected off nearby windows and rain puddles from seasonal rain, caught creaky metal indicators and annoyed anypony wearing glasses. Ponies left their workplaces, shut their windows and prepared for another chilly night within the capital. However, sitting by themselves inside a solitary ally was a lone purple pegasus, rifling through his tattered saddlebags. After discovering that the pony in charge of the orphanage was paying off the city inspector to turn a blind eye to all the abuse she allowed. He’d spent the past month putting his skills to work and was now going over the fruits of his labour. It was cool being a spy again, taking different disguises, sneaking about and going into places he shouldn’t have been. Only this time, it wasn’t to facilitate the invasion of a major city. Currently, his bags were laden with all manner of paperwork, documents and small objects. All of it was evidence he’d collected that would hopefully trigger an investigation. It was a good thing he was taught what to look for during training or he would’ve never figured this stuff out, pony paperwork was complicated. “Photos? Check. Financial records? Check. Miss Red Mark’s beating paddle?” He then pulled out a large, studded piece of wood that looked as though it was converted from a wooden serving tray. “Egh, check. What am I still missing?” He pulled out some files and a hoofful of letters fell out, correspondences between the manager and members of staff at the orphanage.  “Wait? Where’d I get these from?” Thunder briefly flicked through his memories before being metaphorically slapped across the face with the seemingly obvious answer. “Duh! Literature Mimicry! You copied the letters and sent those off instead ya big dummy! These are the originals.” He clipped the letters back together and reorganised his second hoof saddlebags.  When he was satisfied he slung them back over his sides and strode out the ally. The streets were illuminated by the bright, golden glows of overhead lamps and reflective puddles. A patrol of guards in their new winter coats sat nearby, chattering amongst one another with a pair of newspapers.  Thunder stared at them from across the sparsely populated and growingly chilly street. “This is it Shellac!” He told himself. “You just need to walk up and give them the bag.”  Barely any hesitation, Thunder began walking towards them with a steady stride he’d been accustomed to his whole life. But as he got closer he started having a sinking feeling in his chest. A growing sense of danger and anxiety that slowed his gait. “Wait, what if they get suspicious? It’s not everyday some colt just shows up and hands over a ton of  important evidence.” Thunder’s nerves doubled, even tripled the weight on his back. Gradually, his pace slowed to a crawl as he looked over his shoulders, both trying not to seem suspicious, and watching to see what ponies may be watching him. “Ah come on Shellac don’t stop now! Just give it to them. Think of all the ponies you’ll help.” Yet as he continued forward, so did the mental tug of war.  “But what if they de-cast my disguise”? He argued with himself. Frozen in place by his own fear. “Would a new disguise help? You know wearing a mask enables an actor.” “Not really, again, they can just de-cast me if they feel like it.” “Shellac don’t do this, not now! Think of all the colts and fillies at the orphanage depending on you!” “Yea but, I can do this another time, can’t I? There’s guards everywhere in Canterlot.” “No Shell, do it now, they’re right there. Just think of the love you’ll get, you’ll be set for winter! If not yourself, then do it for Teardrop!” Thunder looked at the guards who were still casually chatting about the day and what they planned on doing later, adult stuff he didn’t really get. Their armour under their parkas would’ve been more assuring if he'd grown up around them, they were here to protect the public weren’t they? Not just spend all day wondering who was and wasn’t a changeling? “Breathe in, count to ten, breathe out, just as Miss Tibia said.” Thunder repeated the exercise, stealing back control of his heart rate and taking one step forward, and then another, then a third. Small but steady steps, it was like the horrible anticipation of meeting Chrysalis all over again. Step by step he pushed past his fear, not through careful word usage or cleverly examined emotions but through actions. Just like he’d done back in class, in training, during the invasion and on Nightmare Night. Actions had become his language more than Vespid or Ponish ever were and here he was speaking loud and clear. He held a stiff upper lip as he cautiously approached and one by one the four pony patrol turned their attention to him. Some even offered comforting smiles as he walked into the lamp light. “Hello there, need help?” One of them asked. “Uhm…” Thunder struggled to get any words out as his conscience was fighting a losing battle with his nerves over his vocal cords. He undid the buckles holding his saddlebags in place and dropped them on the floor in front of the group, pushing it forward with his forehead. The guards glanced between him and the bag as he tried forcing a smile but only managing a nervous half grin in doing so. “Can you tell us what’s in the bag?” A unicorn asked, looking both curious and a little concerned. Thunder again fought with his body to reclaim his ability to speak. His heart pounding in his chest and adrenaline pumping through his veins. Managing to brute force his vocals after taking a deep, calming breath. “Stuff, stuff you should look at…about the orphanage.” One of the gilded guards set their newspaper aside and bent down to pick up the saddlebags. Flicking through all the folders and files before pulling out the improvised beating paddle. Covered in scratches, small strands of fur and metal studs with small bits of dried blood. All of them went wide-eyed and winced at the thing before turning back to Thunder… Only to see he’d vanished. Back behind an alley wall Thunder leant against the cold stone bricks huffing and puffing. His chest rising back and forth like a paper bag fit to burst. “Breathe in, count to ten, breathe out.” Thunder did as instructed and slowed his pulse which allowed the adrenaline to die down with it. Despite feeling about ready to collapse, the deed was done. Quietly peeking around the corner, he saw the guards flicking through photos and stolen letters.  With a few increasingly slow breaths he quietly giggled to himself. Those terrible ponies at the orphanage were done for! A wave of anticipation washed over him as he spread his wings and flew to the rooftops eager to observe his work.  Quickly, he dashed around cobblestone chimneys and over slanted rooftop tiles, between interconnecting walls and through the many underpasses. All to the purple light of the setting sun as he took to the skies. He felt unstoppable as he tore through the autumn air, kicking up dust and low hanging clouds. In short order he found his perch overlooking Cantermore Public Orphanage and sat back to catch his breath. Time flew by almost as quickly as he had flown as the sun disappeared over the horizon and the nighttime sky with its many white lights stepped in its place.  With glee, he watched as squads of guards slowly crept up and surrounded the building, knocking on the door and walking inside. One by one all those terrible ponies walked out, Miss Battleaxe, Miss Red Mark, and of course the manager, Mr. Bell Ringer.  The grin on Thunder’s face, the catharsis of the act, the flutter in his chest, he felt so vindicated! “Yeah! Serves you for spanking my flank!” Thunder took a moment to watch the windows and see curtains draw from all over the dorms. The other kids watched with delight as their abusers were taken away by the agents of the princess.  “Is this what it feels like to be a hero? This is cool!” He quietly giggled to himself, savouring every second of his victory. All he had to do now was rejoin the kids and- ”Oh wait…” However, his eyes went wide as he suddenly became aware of just how many guards were present. Pegasi for catching runners, unicorns for spell casting, armoured earth ponies larger than either. He had trouble just approaching a single patrol of the guys but here? No way. He subconsciously shifted away from the ledge of his perch and inched away from yet another crossroads. “Shellac, don’t tell yourself this, you’ll be hailed as a hero! Just fly down and meet them! His reasoning argued. However, his paranoia bit back. “Nuh uh, they know for sure I gave them the evidence, they’ll know I couldn’t have just found all that stuff. I’ll be detected for sure!” “But you did a good thing, surely they’ll forgive you?” “And if they don’t? There’s no chance I’ll escape, not in a million, or a hundred million, or a billion! I’ll be done for.”  This time paranoia overcome reasoning as Thunder backed away from the ledge, panic and regret setting in. “I’m an idiot! I should’ve seen this coming a mile away! Now I’ll never get enough love for winter.” Tears began to form as reality set in. He’d done well to keep himself fed on the streets under the impression it was temporary, but now? As it was, he didn’t even have the orphanage as an option anymore. All that effort, all that time and energy, and now he’s back to square one. On the streets scavenging for food without a place to call home. Yet, even in spite of that, he still felt a slight sense of satisfaction knowing he’d done something good for others.   Then something clicked, buried deep in his memories somewhere a bell had rung. He followed the sound hoping that he might remember something that could salvage the situation. A quick reminder of a faint memory of his room in the mine shafts entered his mind. He could shelter there! Granted it would be cold, but it would be safe at least, and he’d be able to make better insulation with his resin without fear of being caught. It was desperate but right now his best option, his only option.  Thunder picked himself up and took one final look at the increasingly lively orphanage, the sound of cheering echoing from the windows. A celebration of his own making yet cursed not to take part in as he let out a deep, dreadful sigh, blaming himself more than anything for his own short sightedness. With his head hung low, he flew back down to street level and navigated the dark corners of Canterlot, the windchill making his lack of clothing all the more apparent.  It took him no time at all to reach the public park where his secret entrance was. But when he got there he’d found the rock formations had been rearranged and sent his sense of direction off the ledge. That was fine though, he still knew roughly where the hole was. If he could guesstimate its location, he might still be able to slip through. Thunder walked around the park, moving from the shadowy grass to the golden lights that hung overhead, painting the amber trees around them.  He looked around, searching the general area of the entrance. What he found though only threw another punch to his gut. A huge rock now covered the area above the hole that was several times his size and far too big for him to move. Digging wasn’t an option either as it was open grass all around the circumference of the formation. The tunnel would be found for sure and he’d be mega exposed climbing back out. His ears dipped to his sides as his heart plummeted.  “No! No, I still have the entrance inside the sewers, I just hope the runoff hasn’t flooded it.” Thunder left the premises of the park and quickly jumped into a nearby sewer cover, gagging at the smell that hit him. He’d forgotten just how disgusting it was down there, whatever the case it looked like the sewers were experiencing rapids but not overflow. As long as he didn’t fall in (not that he needed the extra motivation) he should be fine. Thunder strode forward, careful not to slip on the wet stone side paths or to bang his head on any outcroppings. His natural night vision and familiarity came back quickly so long as he ignored the cold damp air.  Before he could tear this place up with fast flying, but the lack of clear vision and high tides of who knows what had him leaning on the side of caution. At least there weren’t any rats or pests, living off half eaten food and rarely showering he could live with but living down here with them? No way he wouldn’t allow it, he might’ve been a scavenger but even he had standards. He switched out into his changeling form to conserve energy and pressed on, beginning to feel the effects of a whole day’s worth of movement. He could already hear his long lost hammock calling out to him, it’d be nice to visit home even if it wasn’t much to begin with. Unfortunately though it seems his bad luck had yet to run out as when he caught sight of the cavity that led to the side passage as he found it had been sealed up with freshly laid brick work. “No.” He thought. Running up to and rubbing a hoof against the stone walls as if it was just a mirage of some kind and he’d pass right through. But it held firm, cold and rough against his dark chitin. “No no nonononononoNONO!” He punched and scraped at the wall, hoping by some miracle the bricks would come loose and fall apart. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening!” He spun around and tried bucking, praying that he could break through with enough force. But time and time again the stone held strong. Heedless of the nymph’s attempts. Eventually Shellac slowed down as his panic subsided and his limbs weakened. The weight of his emotions pulling him to the floor in a fit of barely contained sobs. Months of built up frustration, hardship and toil, all for nothing. He wasn’t back to square one anymore, it was more like being at circle zero for how much his efforts amounted to, he didn’t even have his little den anymore! It was too much, he’d been through so many trials and tribulations but had nothing to show for it bar the air that still filled his lungs. “This is what I am now, a rat, a pest, a cockroach.” Shellac lay there on the stone cold floor, alone, cold, and scared… Eight Hours Until The Storm Raining took another card from the pile and added it to his deck of three with his magic. A pair of bags had developed under the colt’s eyes and, while faint, the fur on his face bore the signs of being recently dried. Shellac quietly took another card as he looked at his smiling mask. He could feel Raining’s happiness, but there was a level of emotional fatigue that indicated more to the story.  Wordlessly, Raining took another card and sighed before planting them down for Shellac to view. He’d gone over twenty one again and so the two restarted the game. Shell tried to discern what exactly the predominant emotion of whatever Raining’s outburst could’ve been. Given what had happened this morning he could make an educated guess, but Raining’s happiness was working against him for once.  Obviously, there was  a slight bitterness indicative of sadness, he didn’t even need to sense emotions to figure that out. However, there was something else, something he couldn’t quite put his hoof on due to the emotional saturation.  Shellac took another card and spared another glance at Raining when something behind him caught his eye. He saw one of the pillows of the couch behind him all crumpled up while the other was slightly damp. Things clicked into place as Raining silently took another card from the pile and added it to his hoof. He looked up at him with sincere concern and broke the silence of the room. “Raining? Is everything okay?” Raining quickly swapped between his cards and Shellac before finally settling on his deck, taking another card despite it not being his turn. “Oh yeah! Fit as a fiddle!” He blurted, plastering another smile on his face, though a glance showed his cheeks struggling to maintain it. Shellac slowly slipped another card into his deck while maintaining eye contact. He could sense Raining’s half-truth even without the added change in emotional background. When Raining tapped the table to indicate he was staying, Shellac didn’t continue. Instead he shifted in his seat and assumed a more serious, solemn expression.  “Raining you know I can sense your emotions right? Or did that slip your mind as well?” Raining glanced between him and his cards before tapping the table again with added impatience. Shellac again ignored it and pressed on with the topic at hoof. “If there’s something bothering you I can help.” Raining continued saying nothing but sped up his tapping to a near constant tick all while darting his eyes between him and Shellac with a smile. “You have a good sense of humour, Lead, but seriously, are you okay?” Raining hastily nodded whilst keeping his smile up, doing his best to avoid the topic entirely as Shellac’s smile waned. Still refusing to give him the answer he was looking for and so Shellac decided to play along and grab another card.  “Over twenty one yet?” Raining asked. Shell looked down at his cards and sure enough the last one had sent him over. Despite the tension in the air, he smiled and laid them down for Raining to see which led him to almost jump for joy in his victory. It was such a small thing yet it still netted an exaggerated burst of happiness from the colt and Shellac knew why.  “He’s forcing it again, isn’t he?”  Shellac patiently waited for Raining to calm down while trying to think of a new strategy. How was he going to get Raining to open up with him? As much as it pained him, that barrier of happiness was in his way, and the more he leaned into it, the less chance Shell would get. With a deep breath he internally scolded himself for what he was about to do.  “Raining, I’m sorry I have to do this but you're not leaving me with many options.”  He sat up straight as Raining returned to his place and hooved out their starting cards. Shellac reasserted his concerned look and opened up once Raining was done with his turn. “It’s about Lance, isn’t it? Of this-” He pointed towards a forced smile on his end. “-and all of that?” He then pointed towards the crumpled, dampened pillows behind him. Raining’s eye and ear twitched, doubly so as he turned around to view the battered couch cushions that he’d laid into earlier. Similarly, his mouth jerked and his smile waned as the block tower he’d built for himself started to crumble. Still he looked down at the cards as his eyebrows dropped and soon Shellac could sense the emotions he’d buried begin to dig themselves out. The energy around Raining stilled as he blankly stared at the cards, his limbs growing stiff and his tail flicking from side to side. “Remember how mum said that hate was a strong word?” He spoke slowly. “Yeah?” Shell said, mentally reading himself for the outburst likely about to come.  “Well…I really, really hate Lance.” Raining settled his cards on the table as he turned up to return Shellac’s gaze. The two locked eyes as he continued, a fire sparking inside him as he prepared to go on a tangent. “He chased my friends away, beat me up multiple times, said words mum’s forbidden me from repeating and ruined my photo on picture day.” With every example given Shellac sensed the fire burning brighter and hotter inside him. The flames fanned with each word uttered, but also complemented by the sorrow that played in the background to his rant.  “He’s destroyed my Daring Doo collection and the few models I made at school. Stole my lunch and forced me to eat dirty snow. And possibly one of the worst things he did was sabotage my school work so I was given bad grades. I'm still not sure how he pulled that off but he, and I cannot express this enough, wants to ruin my life and I don’t know WHY!” Raining’s burning anger and sorrow came together to form a self sharpening sword cutting slowly and painfully away at his psyche. Currently, he was balancing on a knife’s edge between descending into another fit of crying and losing control of his burning rage. Shellac paced himself as he went back to his classes on emotions, trying to find the correct arrangement of words that wouldn’t disturb Raining’s delicate mental state. “I’m sorry to hear all that Raining, If I could’ve been there to stop it I would’ve. But you can’t let your anger get the better of you, otherwise you’ll end up like him. I said the same thing to your mom outside, you shouldn’t ignore your emotions but you shouldn’t let them take control either. That didn’t seem to work as Raining’s emotions spiked again. “But he’s done so much! How could I forgive somepony who forced me to touch fox droppings? Or when he broke your wing?!” Shell mentally flinched at the mention of the injury. Sure he’d managed to heal it, but even now he could still recall the sensation…the snap. “Oh I’m not saying you should forgive, far from it. I wanna beat him until he can’t eat solid food anymore, but the point I’m trying to make is that if you let yourself go you’ll become just as bitter as he is. If that happens it won’t matter if he leaves for good because you’ll end up like him and at that point he wins. Bullies create more bullies Raining.” Shellac paused to catch his breath and allowed him to absorb his words. “You said it yourself, Changelings are jerks.” Raining crossed his arms and rubbed his shoulders in a self hug trying to defend himself from the sudden chill that crawled up his spine. Looking down and away from Shellac as his anger calmed and sombre air filled its place. “It’s not fair.” He whispered.  “It rarely ever is.” Shellac got up and moved around the table to join Raining’s side, reaching a hoof around his shoulder to bring him in close. “But at least you're not alone anymore.” Raining picked up one of the cards and played around with it in an attempt to calm his nerves. Slowly, he raised his leg and returned the reach around Shellac's shoulder. Allowing himself to take comfort in his presence. He gave him a smile, not a forced one like he’d been doing earlier but a real, genuine smile. “Thanks Shell.” “No problem Lead.” He then nuzzled into his neck and Raining blushed as he darted his eyes away. Before he knew it, Raining was abruptly pulled into a hug where Shellac caught him within a vice-like grip. His cheeks turned a rosy-red with physical affection and Raining soon returned the kindness. He suddenly felt as though little else mattered, that as long as they were together nothing could harm them. At least until Gleaming entered the room and gawked at the two kids cuddling. “Awww look at you two!” Raining’s eyes went wide to the internal sound of a glass bottle breaking and Shellac mischievously grinned. He tried pulling away but Shell held on tight and soon his awkward embarrassment grew under her mother’s chuckles. His feeble attempts at protest doing little to free himself of his smug captor. “Shell? Can you let go please?” “No.” “Please?” His voice cracked. “Fiiiiiine!” Shellac let him go and Raining fell to all fours trying to catch his breath. Gleaming walked inside and found a spot on the couch where she made herself comfortable. “Oh sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything.” “Oh it's okay Miss Gleaming, we were just having a heart to heart.” Shell answered, internally smug at embarrassing Raining. Raining stood up again and stretched his limbs like a recently awoken cat. He turned to Gleaming with the renewed confidence from their pep talk and spoke with a semi-serious tone. “Mum? There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask…for a few days now.” “Oh? What is it sweetie?” She returned with a smile. “When’s dad coming home?” Gleaming’s pupils shrunk to the size of peas and her body locked up, completely blindsided by the question. Her blood turned to ice, her heart doubled in pace and that weight on her spine suddenly threatened to snap it like a twig. “Damn it not now I wasn’t ready!” “D-don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine! Everything will be fine!” She blurted, yet neither Shell nor Lead were buying it. “But it’s been days! Where is he?” “He’ll be fine Raining! He’ll be fine…” Gleaming said again panicked, sweat starting to form. Shellac sat a little ways away between the two watching the exchange. Equally shocked at the sudden tone shift of the room as Raining tried to press her increasingly stressed mother. “Did Lance have something to do with this? I might have been hurt but I could still hear him talk!” Gold’s voice trembled, “Just give it time and he’ll be fine, okay? Your father will be fine!”  “Fine? From what? What did Lance do mum? “I…I-I uh…” Gleaming began fidgeting her hooves through her mane as she was backed into a corner. Biting her lip as the room turned dark and panic set in. “He…h-he…” DING DONG! DING DONG! The sound of the doorbell ringing made them both jump in fright at its loud announcement and was quickly followed by a trio of heavy, impatient knocks. They turned to view the outside and saw a trio of ponies waiting by the door, but the curtains blocked out most details and only showed the silhouettes. “Saved by the bell again? What’s my luck today?” The second set of knocks were even harder than the first and Gleaming shook herself back to reality. Quickly, she made for the door and hurried to open it before whoever was on the other side damaged its hinges. However when she did, whatever sanctuary she could steal from the momentary reprieve was shattered as she found herself staring down a group of armed guards. “Miss Gleaming Gold?” The one on front spoke. “May we come in? I’m afraid it's not a social call.” Gleaming stood still as a statue as her limbs held stone stiff. “S-sure.” She ripped herself away and had to force a step back as they began to fill into the reception room where the second door stopped them. One of the guards, a unicorn, then turned to her with a lit horn and moments later a wave of familiar teal energy washed over her.  “A cleansing spell? Oh no…no no no no no! They’re here for Shellac!” Gleaming back peddled into a corner wide eyed with barely contained terror as the mage who’d casted the spell approached with sustained suspicion. “Did the spell work miss?” He then turned to the patrol leader. “She still seems a little out of it sir.” The other guard walked up beside him with a glare. “Corporal leave her alone. She’s Copper’s girl, poor thing’s been through enough already.” He locked eyes with the now nervously shaking mare and didn't let his stern expression up for a second. “Pardon the intrusion, but we were given a tip of a possible changeling infiltrator inside this household. Standard protocol dictates we search the residence, you wouldn’t have a problem with that would you?” Gleaming was too utterly shellshocked to speak a word, her conscience torn between answering honestly and clinging to the faint hope these guards would take no for an answer. In the end however she decided she’d rather not challenge the entire patrol now in her house and so she slowly shook her head.  “Is this really it? Have I just damned us all? Oh whatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo?!?” “Then would you kindly unlock the door please?” The patrol leader asked.  Dread built within Gold’s brain and every action she took was done with trepidation. This felt wrong, it felt wrong on so many levels she didn’t think possible but it was. She could see the various weapons that cling to their belts and the agitation, or perhaps irritation, in their eyes. Everything seemed to take too long as the guards all watched her jerk herself forward and fumble the keys inside the lock, their gazes staring into her very soul as if they already knew what she was guilty of. With a soft click the door creaked open and they all walked inside the narrow entrance corridor one by one, the plates of their armour rubbing against each other sending echoes through the walls. Gold was positively paralysed with fear and a hundred different, increasingly grim images ran through her head. Even as they stopped at the living room doorway with their gazes glued to the sights inside.  She watched like a hawk and with ragged breaths, preparing herself for a warzone right inside her house. Sure Shellac had assumed his disguise but these guards would’ve instantly noticed he didn’t look like her son and dispelled it.  But as the seconds ticked by and the beating of her heart pounded in her head, they did nothing. They stood there staring wide eyed into the room. Then she heard a giggle, which turned into a laugh, and soon the trio of guards all burst out into a fit of chuckles for some unseen reason. “W-what?” Her joints seemed to loosen as she curiously crept forward through the stack of armoured guards. Brushing against their gilded armour and finely cared for clothes. When she reached the doorway and looked inside also she found the cause of their laughter. Shellac had assumed his plush form again and was laid out on the couch with Raining, innocently smiling at the guards with a hint of smugness only Gold was privy to. “Real scary changeling infiltrator we got here, eh lads?” One of the guards jested, pointing to the plush. “I didn’t even know there were ponies who made such a thing, where’d you get it kid?” “At the winter carnival! I won it as a prize!” Raining replied. Then as if to demonstrate he began playing around with the plush’s arms as if to make it dance, warranting another round of disarming laughter. The patrol leader however was the only guard of the group who didn’t share in their amusement, instead looking at the purple eyed plush with thought and intensity. Gleaming could see the cogs and gears turning in his head and in a moment of clarity she had an idea.  Quickly, she walked over and glared at him, snorting just loud enough for it to be heard over the other guards. It caught his attention and he turned to see her abhorrent state, her half kept mane, the stress on her face and the way her ear twitched when the two locked eyes. The officer didn’t need to hear a word to understand what Gleaming was communicating. He spared another glance at the changeling soft toy and sighed, turning back to Gold with a sincere expression. “I’m sorry for the disturbance Miss Gold, and I’m sorry for what’s happened to your husband.” Gleaming remained quiet, content with glaring daggers as sharp as the guard’s sword. The patrol leader took the hint and snapped back to the other guards. “Ok boys, pack it up! We’re done here.” They each clamped their mouths shut and began trailing out of the house with the patrol leader at the back of the queue. One at a time the armoured guards stepped back into the bitter chill outside, the officer taking one last look back at Gleaming. “Happy Hearth’s Warming Miss Gold…sorry about this.” With that, he closed the door.  The reverberation sent a shockwave that rang in her ears. Finally left alone with her kids the dreaded realisation hit her like a truck.  A group of guards had just tried to search her home for a changeling and if it weren’t for some quick thinking it would’ve all been over. She’d have been arrested, her son taken away and Shellac thrown into Canterlot Dungeons. Screw being saved by a bell, this time they’d got off by the skin of their teeth! Immediately, her chest began to tighten and her head pounded to the sound of her aching heart. With the same jerky, forced movements from before she entered the living room where Shellac had returned back to his normal form. The two kids watched with growing concern as she struggled to stay upright. “Mum? Are you okay?” Raining asked. Gleaming was just about able to squeak out a simple “No,” before collapsing forward and landing messily onto the couch. Raining panicked and rushed over to her aid with Shellac right behind him as they tried to prevent her from falling off and onto the floor. “Mum? Mum, what's going on? Are you hurt?” Gleaming didn’t answer, her eyes listlessly glazing over her surroundings, her breathing short and ragged. Raining snapped back to his unofficial brother hoping for an answer. “Shell, what’s happening to her?!”  “I-I don’t know! Maybe she needs water? I’ll go get some!” “Bring the medical box too!” Shellac galloped out into the kitchen and pulled out a large glass along with a big box that had a white cross on it made of duct tape. While he worked on that, Raining stood by his weakened mother, checking her pulse and holding her hoof. He really didn’t know what more he could do besides trying to comfort her, he didn’t even know what was wrong! Then a familiar saying came back to mind. Words of wisdom that he knew all too well by now. “Laughter is the best medicine!” The edges of his mouth cracked as he began forcing another smile and looked into her mother’s glossy eyes. “Heh…you’ll be fine, right mum? Like you said, everything will be fine!” Shellac raced back into the living room and popped the box and the freshly filled glass on the coffee table. He turned back to the two but froze in place when he saw Raining’s grin, and felt the immense clash of emotions between the two. There were so many it was hard to keep track. Panic, dread, fear, false joy, just to name a few. The colour was sucked from the room as was any kind of warmth the fireplace provided. He couldn’t take his eyes off the suffering mother and child yet he also couldn’t bear to watch. Raining kept mumbling to himself echoing what Gleaming had said earlier before the guards interrupted them and trying to comfort himself as much as her with his cracking voice.  “You’ll be alright…you’ll be alright…” Shellac’s heart twisted into a knot. The horrible hooks of guilt latched onto him and he watched with a grimace. The fear of an uncertain future and trepidation of things to come hanging over his head. “You did this, didn’t you?” He scorned himself. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t what he wanted. He was supposed to stay here with Raining and help his family, not tear it apart like this! “Those guards came here for you, Copper’s gone because you agreed to go out with Raining and now Lance won’t leave them alone because you got involved. All of this is your fault!”  That’s when it suddenly struck him, all of the harsh treatment, all the hard work and pointless effort. He was born an outcast among outcasts and no matter his best efforts his whole life’s only ever been unfortunate. For Shellac was a magnet for bad luck and moments of victory or joy would only ever be fleeting and far between.  The Hive, the Invasion, the streets, the orphanage, and now the family. Everywhere he went and everywhere he lived, he’d only ever find misery. Things would’ve been better if he’d just taken what he needed and left them alone. Copper would still be here, Lance wouldn’t have ruined his game of Spell-Tag and the guards would’ve never knocked on the door today.  What else would happen if he stayed? The nymph’s gut twisted into a knot and he found himself just as paralysed as Gleaming. Unable to do much else but watch and witness the horrible show. Even as Raining began to hum an upbeat tune to brighten the situation he couldn’t pull himself away. “I don’t belong here, I never did and the universe will see to it I never will. I’m so sorry Raining, for everything I’ve done to you.” With a heavy heart he finally found the will to turn away as Gleaming’s breathing began to normalise. But whatever relief Raining had, Shellac wanted no part in, it wasn’t his to take. He climbed the stairs and went to Raining’s room to take refuge.  There he sat down on the carpeted floor and dreaded what he knew would come next. What cruel force of the universe would keep him alive just to torment him like this? It wasn’t fair! Why can’t he just settle somewhere and have a nice life?  Time passed and soon Raining came to him with the good news of Gleaming’s recovery, but it did little to temper his emotions. The nymph took to reading more of that novel Raining had given him and was content with sticking to his little corner of the room. Raining tried to cheer him up and encourage them to play but Shellac denied him every time. He didn’t want to break his heart anymore then he was already going to do. Not that it mattered much anyway… “Sorry kid but it's a false alarm, we found a stuffed toy that certainly looked like the real thing, but there was no changeling.” Moonlit Lance looked up at the patrol leader in disbelief. “Seriously? I gave you a chunk of resin! That had to come from a Changeling.” The officer reached into his pocket and pulled out the aforementioned chunk. “I won’t deny, it does seem odd that the colours matched. But we checked the family and they’re not under any sort of control.” Lance’s eye twitched as a wave of realisation washed over him but he tried to stay on topic. “And did you check the changeling stuffed toy thing?” He said through gritted teeth. “You know, the thing that matches the resin chunk?”  The officer took a deep breath and his tone dropped. His smile and any semblance of kindness along with it. “Kid? By going in there we stressed out somepony who might’ve just lost their significant other. Unless you bring me hard proof that there's a changeling inside that building, we’re not going back inside, okay? And if you keep pushing this, then we’ll have to report you to your parents.” Lance had to swallow his breath in an effort to prevent himself from lashing out, already scorning himself for disrespecting the guard. With great effort he wordlessly nodded and the two had a mutual understanding. Not wanting to escalate things further the patrol leader left the colt and strode down the street with the rest of his squad. Once they were out of earshot Lance bucked a hoof into a trashcan, denting it and knocking it over before turning to the yellow brick house on the opposite end of the street. “Traitors, bug lovers, turncoats, the very bucking worst scum of Equestria. They’ve been housing that changeling this whole time and now they’re cover’s blown.” His expression hardened with rage at the windows and doors, knowing it was all that separated him from them. “If the guards won’t take me seriously then I’ll take matters into my own hooves.” Lance turned about face and left for his house. Several hours had passed and the sky outside grew dark, the numerous lights of Canterlot kicking in to illuminate what they could. The house grew quiet as the family resided themselves to the comfort of night, but for one of them, they couldn’t be any more restless if they tried. Shellac stirred and turned in place as he tried wiggling away from Raining’s grasp. His brother unconsciously refused to let him go, as if he somehow knew of his plans. It was the same story as it was a couple of nights ago and had a similar ending when Shell briefly transformed to escape him. Shifting back he turned to look at Raining with regret in his eye. “I’m sorry Raining. I know what I said but…I have to do this. I’m sorry.” With his head hung low he snuck away downstairs careful not to disturb any creaky floorboards. Slowly, his first stop was the living room, and upon entry, he froze at the doorframe. Nothing had really changed about the room, but the tree now had all manner of presents tucked under its well decorated canopy. It was a small change but it was enough to elicit that same spark of wonder he’d felt the first time seeing it. Like a hidden puzzle piece had just clicked into place and therefore elevated the beauty. But as the minutes ticked by his admiration waned and his wonder was hollowed out. This would be the last time he got to see the living room, the last time he could warm himself by the fireplace or admire the decorations. Soon he’d be back to worrying about survival and so he turned his attention to the silver trophy sitting above the lit fireplace.  “Should I take it? It’s mine and I won it fair and square. Then again it’s heavy and I need to pack light. It’s not real silver anyway, it’s just metal with some plating. Does that matter though? No, it doesn’t, it’ll only slow me down. But I won it!” Shell’s desire attempted to argue, but once again, paranoia proved louder.  “Look, Shell? It’s dead weight and you need to focus on staying alive. Leave it here for Raining and his family, they can remember you that way.” The sound of the grandfather clock quietly striking midnight woke the changeling up from his indecision. He sighed and strode to the kitchen to begin packing some supplies. He grabbed one of the extra shopping bags and filled it with a few bottles of water and some canned soups as well as some tinder and firewood.  Shellac couldn’t stay with Raining’s family, he’d tear it apart otherwise and he couldn't bear the thought with such nice ponies. He was a bad luck charm, a cursed changeling with a pathetic past and no future. Doomed to live an outcast for however long he could manage. But maybe now there’d at least be somepony who would visit his grave. He walked away from the kitchen, but paused at the living room doorway, looking inside at the tree with all of its magical lights and many gifted wrapped boxes underneath. “It’s Hearth’s Warming, why am I having to do this on Hearth’s Warming? This is meant to be a happy time isn’t it?” Another depressive sigh left him as he longed for the morning celebrations. Suddenly reminded of the joy he was denied after exposing the orphanage. “Because if I stay here bad things will happen, and I won’t let Raining suffer because of me.” He pushed on past the doorway and entered the reception. Quietly fastening his winter kit with a slow, painfully lethargic pace. “Why couldn’t I have been born a pony? Or even just as one of Chrysalis’ nymphs? I just had to be special in the worst way possible. I just had be Mr. Misfortune didn’t I?” Shell took one last look at the entrance hallway and savoured the memories flashing through his head. Gleaming’s bath, Piccafilly Circus, the carnival, the arcade and all the little moments in between. Cringing as another wave of emotion welled up in his eyes.  “I’m sorry Raining, I hope you have a good life.” With one final puff of his chest he opened the door and braved the outside. The howling winds were so strong if it weren’t for the neighbor’s hedges shielding him he might’ve been knocked off his hooves by the sudden force. From the front door he could barely see to the end of the yard with the streetlights only doing so much to help. Even with his nightvision the thick hail of snow impeded much of the light that made it to his eyes. As a result it wasn’t so much the darkness that was making it difficult but the dense air that cut off his vision. Shellac pushed past the gate with a hoof shielding his face before crossing the street into a nearby ally for cover. It was so loud he could barely hear himself think! But now that he had a moment he set his bag of supplies down the full breath of what he was doing set in.  There was yet another rising tide of emotion when he suddenly heard somepony whistle from the alley's entrance. He quickly turned and- There was only a brief flash where he saw a fast-moving object flying towards his face… Then nothing.