//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3: Plans 
// Story: Changed 
// by 2XDEAD 
//------------------------------//

Finding home turned out to be a bit of a challenge when one didn't know where it was. Chitin spent some time wandering Cloudsdale, until he noticed what seemed to be some sort of town hall. There was a large desk in the center with a bored mare will a dull grey coat and frizzy mane. Approaching hesitantly, he coughed to draw her attention from the heavy tomb she was reading. Looking up at him, she seemed completely unimpressed with what she saw. "Yes?" she asked imperiously, closing her book with a resounding thud.

"I'm looking for the um, directory. Of residents. Or something of the sort." Looking at him skeptically, she waved her hoof off to the right towards what seemed to be two large double-doors.
"That's where we keep all public information on the city and its residents." She seemed unwilling to offer much more information as she opened her book again and resumed reading. Chitin was on his own in this case.

Awkwardly drawing the double doors open, he entered to see a vast library of bound documents and books lining fluffy bookshelves. The whole of it was overwhelming - he couldn't help but compare to back home, where they had so few things to read and less to write with. The fact that he knew how to read and write was just a fact of his birth status. Chitin slowly scanned the shelves, looking at the labels hung over each section. He eventually found one referring to addresses. He opened the huge binder and was discomforted by the long line of names. He flipped through laminated pages to the 'S' section. Honestly, he wasn't even sure if Soarin was a full name, but to his great surprise, there was only one address listed by that name. It seemed his body lived in the upper parts of Cloudsdale, higher than many of the natural clouds.

Reading the line over and over until he could recite his address by memory, Chitin closed the book and replaced. He made an awkward exit, glad that the receptionist seemed still too absorbed to even notice his coming and going. Once outside, he tried to orient himself. Spreading his wings, he took to the air, trying to make his flight patterns seem natural. Up, up, and up he went, until he was high above the city. He could tell now that the air was thinner here. He had to breathe in great gasps to keep his lungs full. However, the world was also much brighter. He could see the light reflecting pink off the clouds, the whole city was glimmering and quite heavenly. Chitin had never seen anything quite so bright in his life, which consisted mostly of living underground in perpetual dusk.

It was no wonder that the queen hungered to take over the land of Equestria. It was a lovely place.

Gliding in light winds, Chitin circled the higher buildings awhile, until he noticed a street with a familiar name. Flying down, he examined each building. He was glad that his culture was not quite so different as to not possess a similar way of structuring addresses. It was just about sunset when he found the number he desired - building 5607, Feather Way. He stepped into the lobby and looked about him. To his right there seemed to be some kind of office. An elevator and stairs were in front of him. The walls were lined with pictures of smiling ponies having a great time, no doubt, in their apartments. He began climbing the stairs, wondering where to go. He knew there was a key in Soarin's bag, probably to his apartment. Luckily, he didn't have to go further than the first floor before he figured he knew which room was his. The door was decorated with Wonderbolts paraphernalia, to a point where it was ridiculous. From what he knew of Soarin so far, he thought the pony excessively indulgent and far too light-hearted. Taking out the key, Chitin tried the door. It opened, as he'd thought it would.

He honestly wasn't surprised to find the whole place a cluttered, lived in mess. He kicked aside dirty clothes as he walked through the entryway, surveying the living room with a grim face. The couch was covered with more clothes. There was what seemed to be a television set. The kitchen merged as part of the living room, and seemed to be filled with unwashed dishes. There were quite a lot of pin-ups on the wall of something called "Playmare". The whole thing was enough to make Chitin's face flush with embarrassment.

Heading into the bedroom, he found it to not be much better. Even he, living in a state of far less plenty, was much more neater about his life. The blankets were on the floor, the bed sheets stained, tons of more scandalous magazines spread about, and more dirty plates were laying in unlikely places. Chitin sighed and placed the saddlebag on the floor. He simply could not let the place remain in this state.

So he began cleaning. First he took all the dishes, scrubbed and washed them. The clothes same next, washed in the sink with the dishes. He expanded to scrubbing the floors and the walls - after removing all of the humiliating posters. After hours of work, the whole place looked much more sanitary, with everything organized and in its right place. Chitin looked proudly on his newly remade home. This was a place he could spend the next few weeks. A brand new base of operations. Nodding to himself, he snuggled down into the newly made bed with a sigh. In his mind, he reviewed the busy events of the day. It was only then that he remembered what Spitfire said about meeting up the next day.

Sitting bolt upright he gasped. "Practice?!" Tomorrow?



When he awoke, it was to the noise of a humming voice and a door closing. Raising his head, he peeled the page of the book he'd been staring at off of his face. It seemed he'd ruined it a bit by drooling. Hastily he closed the cover before the Changling could see the damage done and perhaps get angry. For the moment she seemed happily distracted however. She was arranging paper bags filled with what was thankfully pony-oriented food. Noticing him watching her, Gossamer turned her large, buggy green eyes on him. "Hey, hey! I'm back!" she chirped happily.
"Oh, yeah, uh, I noticed," Soarin said, blinking owlishly.

Honestly, Soarin wasn't quite sure how to treat the situation. Gossamer acted very friendly like. In fact, if she'd been a regular pony, they'd probably be getting along fine. However, being shoved into a cage by a Changling seemed to be something out of a bad TV drama. He was being held prisoner by the happiest captor in the world. It was all the worse for an athletic pony like Soarin, who loved flying and performing and much as he loved food.

"But I brought lots of food!" chirped Gossamer. She pulled out what looked like to be a large hay sub prepackaged from some deli or other. His mouth immediately started salivating. With flourish she placed it between his bars. Eagerly he unwrapped the sandwich and devoured it in a few bites. It wasn't until he was done eating that he thought that it might have been poisoned. Then again, if she was going to kill him, she could have done it while he was unconscious. Soarin chided himself for being so dumb and following his stomach instead of his head. He had to remain alert while he was prisoner. Even if he'd broken some things and it was difficult to focus with his poor, abused head.

Gossamer beamed (or, at least, that's what he thought she was doing) as he ate. She seemed to be writing something in a notebook. About how he ate? Either way, she looked like a crazed scientist observing an experiment. Maybe he was an experiment. He was in a cage, after all, like a guinea parasprite. He pulled himself carefully into a sitting position, trying to make himself look bigger and more like a strong pony that a whimpering dog. "Why are you holding me captive Gossamer?" he asked seriously.

Not responding at first, Gossamer finished arranging some fresh flowers on her desk. "Please, call me Gossy. And we're here to be friends, you know."
"This is definitely not how ponies become friends," Soarin said in exasperation. "Friends don't imprison friends."
"Oh, yes. But it's much harder to be friends when the person will probably run away." She gazed at him very seriously. There was some bizarre logic behind her reasoning, but Soarin wasn't exactly jumping on board.
"Yeah, fine, people are scared of Changlings, I get it. But, um, this isn't exactly helping the reputation." Gossamer's lip looked like it was going to hit the floor from protruding too much. It was obvious she wasn't pleased with his berating her. Soarin, ridiculously, felt a flash of guilt. He wasn't the type of guy to be argumentative, even in this kind of situation.

"I - I just wanted to have someone to talk to about living as a pony. No one else seems to understand it, not back home. That's why I live in the woods you know."
"What do you mean?" True, he'd heard Changelings lived in one giant burrow, called a hive. Perhaps it was strange for them to not live there at all, like this particular one.
"Don't worry about it," Gossamer said, waving a hoof furiously. "It's unimportant. What I want to know is more about you, and where you live, and - and, well, everything!" Her mood seemed to have improved dramatically within seconds. How oddly her emotions went. Well, at least Soarin had some experience with moody mares - although the mare he knew seemed to get angry at record speeds, instead of sad. "Now tell me."

Soarin shifted uncomfortably. "Well, um, I'm Soarin." Gossy nodded her head encouragingly. "Uh, I'm a professional aerial acrobat." Gossamer gasped with sheer delight.
"Really? That sounds amazing! What does an aerial acrobat do?"
"I... fly. And do tricks and stuff." Well, putting it that way, it sure didn't sound exciting at all. Even if he was famous for it.
"Ohhh, that does sound like fun. Pegasus ponies have this amazing way of flying, you know, they just... glide without effort." She made a whooshing sound as she moved her hoof for emphasis. "But me, well..." She buzzed her wings and hovered in the air, her wings moving so fast they were a blur. She set down on the floor again with a wistful sigh.

"That's why I've spent all my time trying to be a pony!" she announced, smiling at him. Soarin stared at her dumbly. It was possibly one of the more ridiculous things he'd ever heard.
"Um, but can't you just change into anypony?" he asked blankly. The idea of a Changling being unable to do what was exactly in the name seemed a bit silly.
"Oh, yes, of course, anyone can do that." Gossamer laughed heartily, obviously amused at his lack of comprehension. She leaned towards his cage conspiratorially. "No, I want to be a pony. As in, my very self. Not become someone else, but become a pony me."

Eagerly she walked over to her desk and opened a drawer. She put on a handsome gold wig with curls that fell to her chest. She tied one onto the sorry excuse for a tail she had as well. She certainly looked more pony-ish, but it was more like a mocking caricature. Gossamer seemed to be staring into her mirror with intensity, however, adjusting her blonde curls and examining herself from many angles. Her ambition seemed more of an obsession from Soarin's point of view. And a very weird one at that, like an earth pony trying to become a pegasus, or vice versa. It was simply nothing he'd ever heard of, at least not in a permanent sense and not without very powerful magicks that a Changeling could not possess nor bargain for.

"That's crazy," he blurted, before internally wincing. She didn't seem to be fazed by his outburst however, instead she began brushing her wig tenderly.
"I know, everyone has said so. They've laughed at me. But if I want to be a pony, I have to do what ponies do: I have to follow my dreams, don't you see?" She turned that intense gaze on him once more. He resisted the urge to shrink back down in his cage. There was a violent passion within her. "It's my destiny - to be a pony. And see, you're here! It's proof that you're meant to help me. You can tell me all about what it's like, stuff that isn't in the books I've taken."

She returned to stand beside his gaze, smiling down at him. He swallowed thickly, aghast at being pulled into some weird plan to change a Changling. "Think of it as providence. You'll be involved in something wonderful. A miracle." Giggling, she returned to her desk and her brushing.
Soarin felt like his sandwich was going to come back out.



Chitin barely slept that night, though he'd had such a packed day before. His nerves were getting to him. His mind turned over and over, trying to think of some way out of it. But even if he managed to evade practice this time, it couldn't be forever. They would eventually get suspicious, of an athlete who suddenly didn't desire to perform anymore. Chitin had only just arrived in Equestria, he couldn't let everything fall apart because he didn't possess the talent that Soarin clearly had. He mulled over his various options in his head.

He could decide to drop the charade as Soarin and find someone else to become. But if he did that, he risked exposure. People would know there was a fake Soarin, or at least that he was acting oddly before he disappeared. Not to mention, he'd have to incapacitate this new pony. He couldn't stomach the idea of permanently killing somepony and taking their place. Especially since he knew he'd have to move on eventually. That wasn't what his self-imposed mission was anyways, the taking of life. He was trying to make everything better.

So what could he do? How could he manage to get out of the situation and still keep his tracks covered, both from the other ponies and from her? Tossing and turning, he finally hit upon the solution in the middle of the night. It filled him with a great amount of dread. Certainly it wasn't an ideal plan, but it was one that could certainly continue the masquerade for an amount of time. Though it was risky, so was everything he'd done up to this point. Chitin finally settled himself on the plan before he fell into a fitful sleep.

The morning ended up being no better. He was ill-rested and stressed, and was going to bet himself on a serious gambit. No one, pony or Changling, would be able to hold themselves fully together in such a situation. Nonetheless, as he raised his mask, turning himself from Chitin to Soarin, he steeled himself internally. He packed the Wonderbolt uniform in his saddlebag, and set out the door.

Arriving at the stadium, he tried to force himself to seem happy and cheerful. Perhaps he only came out looking pained because the guard from yesterday seemed only more concerned as he passed by, heading towards the locker room. After he carefully pulled his uniform on over his delicate wings, he splashed his face with some water and took a few deep breathes. Even if he couldn't pretend to be an amazing acrobat, he could at least try and put on the performance of his life.

Setting onto the field, he was greeted by the team once more. Everyone seemed to have already assembled. Spitfire was frowning at him, raising up her goggles to her forehead as he approached. "You're late," she said sternly, though she didn't seem to be too aggravated by his tardiness.
Chitin forced a shrug, trying to appear as if he was the careless young stallion that he was supposed to be. "Ah, well," Spitfire sighed. "I guess the day you're on time is the day Celestia craps in front of the Canterlot court." Chitin kept his mouth from dropping at this insulting expression, and made a gargling noise that was supposed to be a laugh. Spitfire stared and snorted at him, perhaps thinking he was being an idiot on purpose. "Anyways, ready up team! We'll start off easy today, so we can warm Soarin up from his vacation! Let's perform some ring and column drills. Line up!"

Chitin somehow managed to shuffle into the proper order of the line. He was fourth, behind Spitfire, Blaze, and Misty. They were flexing their wings and stretching, everyone ready for Spitfire to run the obstacle course laid out before them first. It was a set of golden hoops and cloud columns. Chitin gloomily supposed they were supposed to fly through and around them in some sort of pattern. His suspicions were confirmed when Spitfire took to the air at breakneck speed, zooming down onto the field. She was an obvious professional, a natural in her field. She shot past columns with just an inch between them and her belly, doing barrel rolls around some and passing others upside down. She went through wings performing tight twists, and ended it with a perfect landing. Chitin was impressed and dismayed all at once.

Blaze, whom Chitin thought might be related to Spitfire in some way, performed with equal efficiency. She was perhaps not as stylish as Spitfire, but definitely knew her stuff. Misty went through with flourish as well. By then it was Chitin's turn, and he was nearly nauseous with anxiety. This was almost as bad as his initial escape. Stepping up to the edge of the cloud they rested on, he took multiple deep breathes, making a long show of cracking his limbs and prancing in place. By this point Spitfire was rolling her eyes. "Come on, Soarin, you've already had your vacation. You can mess around later, once practice is over!"

Taking a hint, Chitin bunched his muscles beneath him, and sprang forward. He beat his wings as quickly as he could, and found it terrifying to push himself to a limit. A Changling used to control and precision, he was frightened to be flying pell-mell at the obstacle course.  Going through the columns, he winced every time he clipped one, though he managed to deftly avoid some through luck. He was coming up on his first wing. He had to make it look convincing. He put on the speed, biting his cheek to keep from screaming in fear.

At full force he clipped his right wing into the right, causing it to crush backwards. With a true bellow of pain he plummeted to the stadium floor and hit with a soft whuumph. Never was he more glad that everything in Cloudsdale was a soft, cushioned surface. All the same, he found tears of pain rolling down his face. He focused desperately through the pain, imagining his wing, Soarin's wing, what it would look like after such damage. It would be bent in the wrong directly, perhaps some bone sticking out. Feathers loose, a bit of blood. It would look quite bad, definitely something that could not be flown on. Perhaps even an injury that no comeback would ever fix.

Shouts were coming towards him. Many sets of hooves landed softly around his prone body. Chitin kept his eyes closed, breathing in short pants. "Soarin!" they were exclaiming, clustering close to him and kneeling over him.
"Everyone back up!" came the commanding voice of Spitfire. She forced the other teammates away and leaned over him, her mouth a firm downward line. For a moment he thought she might have noticed something off about him, and his heart stopped. But instead she said, "Soarin, I'm going to get a medical transport. We'll take you to a hospital, to the best wing doctor." There was such overwhelming concern in her voice, emanating from her and all of Soarin's friends, that more tears sprang to his eyes. Their caring made him feel stronger already, cut through his fog of pain and gave him true strength and concentration. The first-hand contact of such friendship was truly amazing. This was what love felt like, when it wasn't dabbled in small morsels from a second-party.

Two paramedics arrived, their coats soothing light tones, their cutie-marks both medical symbols. They loaded him on a stretched tied taunt between them, telling him to brace himself for movement. They lifted off a bit heavily, but their flying was as smooth as the Wonderbolts were fast. "Where are we going?" Chitin asked in a daze, noticing that Spitfire and some of the other Wonderbolts were flying behind them, following the procession. He was glad, for it gave him the energy to keep his mask of Soarin on even as the pain threatened to cause his magic to fade.

"There's a hospital in the town below Cloudsdale. There's an aliologist that practices in Ponyville - she's an expert on these types of injuries, and has helped many pegasus to full recovery." Chitin supposed that made sense that there was a whole profession dedicated to healing pegasus wings. After all, if a pegasus couldn't fly, it would make it difficult getting around Cloudsdale. He hadn't even considered that when formulating his plan. Ruefully, he supposed his entire cleansing process had been a waste of time, since he wouldn't be able to go back for awhile. Maybe Soarin would thank him... if he ever managed to get back from the woods. Chitin avoided thinking about that particular guilt.

All the same, it seemed odd a wing specialist would reside in Ponyville. That was a bit away from where most of their main patients lived after all.

When the paramedics landed, they traded his stretcher over to two nurses who came rushing outside. "Don't worry, Soarin," Spitfire said as she hustled in after him. "I'll pay for the ride over." Chitin didn't even realize that a ride with the paramedics would cost anything. He didn't know a lot of things about ponies, really. The whole endeavor was starting to seem like something too big for one Changling to take on by himself. All the same, he was glad that Spitfire was so intent on helping him. Her friendship was all that was keeping him together.

They wheeled him in to a fairly empty ward. Across the way he saw a young colt placing with some kind of ball-and-cup contraption. He didn't have much more time to look around, however, as the aliologist arrived. He realized now why she stayed in the town below Cloudsdale rather than there. The physician was a unicorn, a kind-looking mare with spectacles resting before her bright blue eyes. Like many of the hospital ponies, she was a soothing mint color, with her grey mane pulled into a loose bun. "Ah, Nurse Redheart briefed me on your injuries. I'm Doctor Swift Aid"

She walked around the gurney to stand beside his injured wing, looking at it closely. Her expression turned grave - he expected it was only the worst of news. Despite the fact she was only seeing an illusion, his stomach lurched. He had no idea what his actual wing looked like. Probably in no better shape that his mirage. "It looks like the wing has fractured in multiple places. Not a clean single break." She began scribbling some notes. "We're going to get an x-ray so we can fully assess the damage."

"X-ray?" Chitin asked, not entirely sure what that was.
"Yes, we're going to get a look inside at your bones," Swift Aid said gently, probably thinking he was a bit addled to not understand what was going on.
Immediately he sat up quickly. "No, no, I don't want an x-ray," he said rapidly. Spitfire, standing across from Swift Aid, stared at him, obviously baffled as Doctor Swift Aid was. They exchanged glances.
"It's a simple, harmless procedure. Whatever you've heard about dangerous radiation is exaggerated," the doctor told him persuasively. Chitin continued shaking his head wildly.
"Please... I don't need an x-ray." He tried to keep himself from looking too crazy. "I'm fine, really."

"Obviously not," Swift Aid dryly remarked, staring at his shattered limb. "But I can't force a patient to undergo a procedure they don't want."
"Come on, Soarin, don't be an idiot. If you're worried about the expenses, the team will pitch in and cover them, like we always do." Spitfire gave him a hard stare. Chitin didn't meet her eyes.
"I just don't want it, and that's that. She can fix me without an x-ray."
"It will be more difficult if I don't know precisely what type of fracture it is, and where they are," the aliologist warned. Chitin shrugged, feeling miserable internally.
"You're an idiot, a hay-flinging moron!" Spitfire practically shouted. Nurse Redheart poked her head in the room to shush the angry mare. Chitin stared at his hooves, nodding in meek agreement. "You're just going to lay there and throw away your career over some dumb x-ray?" She shook herself, trying to calm down. "Come on, we need you. We need you to be better. Your wing isn't beyond help."
Chitin forced himself to look her in the eye and say, "I don't believe that." It was true, his real wing was probably beyond anyone's help, especially if he had to pretend to have his mirage wings fixed.

Staring back at him before snarling with frustration, Spitfire stormed out. Doctor Swift Aid sighed. "Well, I'll perform a physical examination of the wing and try to set the obvious fractures. If there are any small cracks, though..." The warning hung in the air as the doctor shrugged. Chitin tried to not cry throughout the binding and splinting process. It was the same as at home, when someone broke a leg. His real wing hurt the whole time, and Chitin begged for some painkillers. The doctor relented, giving him something to help him sleep.

As he lay back, staring at the white tile ceiling, Chitin remembered he left everything important back in Cloudsdale. By then, however, he was too tired and too drowsy from the drugs to really panic. I'll have Spitfire grab my bag from the locker room... if she comes back. And then he was fell into dreaming.