//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: What Goes Up // Story: Changed // by 2XDEAD //------------------------------// It was definitely a bit different to fly with feathered wings. Chitin found himself flapping awkwardly often, and swaying unsteadily at the slightest headwind. The aching bruises covering him attested to the failed test flights. Now he was beginning to get the hang of this craziness, which surprisingly involved a lot less energy than he was accustomed to expending. A Changling had precision control over its flight pattern, due to the light structure of its body and the high speed of each wing beat. It was quite optimal for accuracy of movements, but not for endurance flights, certainly. Another reason why making the journey on hoof was preferable to taking to the sky before he’d acquired his disguise. That is, when he finally managed to get a basic idea of how to move this confounded body. The pegasus pony was bulkier and more clumsy in shape that Chitin had anticipated. Each wing stroke was highly overpowered, which compensated for what seemed to Chitin to be the extreme sluggishness of his new appendages. There were some techniques that seemed to crossover from the Changling’s natural form, however. In fact, they were taken great advantage of in the pegasus body. Angling his wings forward gave him greater lift, and he could sacrifice his height for velocity in a swooping motion before he regained altitude. The greatest peculiarity that aided him, he discovered, was heated updrafts that could cause him to go soaring high in the sky. These thermal drafts gave him this height for little energy in return. If he possessed a more scientific mind, perhaps Chitin would have marveled at his discoveries. As it was, it was simply the utility of flight he was more concerned with. Now that he had adjusted, he was concerned more with covering ground and putting a good distance between himself and the Hive. In that respect, he actually felt sorry for the pony he’d ambushed. After discovering that poor fellow on the ground, twitching as he was from that painful descent, it seemed to be in Chitin’s best interest if he made certain that whoever this stallion was, he didn’t follow Chitin and cause problems. There had been a serious moment where he’d even considered outright killing the pony. But he shied away from the thought in the end, even feeling a twist of shame that it actually had its appeal for a few seconds. While practical to the bone, even he felt some moral boundaries had to be put in place. He decided that assault was as far as he was willing to go. For the time being. On the other hand, he couldn’t simply leave the pony there, where he might easily figure out how to get home. It made him very uneasy, but honestly he had no choice but to pull the pony deeper into the Darkwood – perhaps even bring him within throwing distance of the Deadwood. The idea of retracing his steps made Chitin swallow thickly. But… the other options were just too ugly to contemplate. He would make sure the stallion lost his way, before continuing on his own. Chitin thus went about stripping the pegasus of his pack and his shirt, before dragging him with grunts and wheezes of effort deep into the forest. He hadn’t quite been able to fathom such weight on another being before. While the stallion was a bit bulkier than Chitin, he felt like a sack of stones flopping around on the ground. From the way he’d seen his mysterious pony friend eat, Chitin spitefully speculated he carried that extra weight in his stomach. Eventually it was more his exasperation at the effort of hauling around a limp pony than anything else that caused Chitin to unceremoniously dump the blue stallion in a heap next to a stream. At least the fellow would have water. Not that he lacked for moisture – Chitin could see a line of drool slipping out of the corner of the pegasus’s mouth. Chrysalis’s horn, Chitin felt actually a bit sorry for him. He just looked mightily pathetic, lolling around on the ground like that. Chitin shook his head. No, this was the way it had to be. The pony had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he’d make it okay if he had any sense in that head. Chitin wasn’t quite certain on that account, but he shook off his doubts by quickly jerking away from the unconscious pony. He had more important things to attend to. The tree – yes, he remembered where it was. Not too far from where he’d put his treasure for safekeeping. It was a tall, withering oak, with a large hollow that might have made for a nest of avian creature. Or worse. When he found it, it had not been occupied, however, and Chitin had carefully placed the object within, until it was safe to return and retrieve it. He had not quite expected the opportunity to arise so quickly, but since he’d found a better mode of transport, he supposed he’d best take it with him. Having traveled a moderate amount of times in the area on patrol, he had a decent map back to the tree in his head. Worry struck him that it might not be there; there was always the possibility some fool scavenger might come along and take away what seemed like just a shiny bauble. But this was more important than some mere trinket to Chitin. He carefully pulled a slightly gleaming, round object from the hollow before hastily shoving it into the stallion’s saddlebag, which he had brought with him. It nestled itself neatly into what looked to be some sort of uniform within. At least it would have something soft to be wrapped in, in case of being jostled around during the long journey. He treated it with some reverence, like a holy object. The actual fragility of his prize, along with the meaning of its very existence, made Chitin quite cautious. Then came the two hours of flying practice. Only afterwards did he put on the ugly shirt and strap on the saddle bag. He’d already decided on a destination. It was time to find the city in the sky. ----- The ground was cold. That, for some reason, was quite puzzling. That is, before the massive headache set into his skull. Soarin groaned and cracked his eyes slightly, before squeezing them shut. The world seemed suddenly over bright. The light cut right into his head like a knife. Suddenly just laying there for a few minutes seemed like a good idea. It certainly gave Soarin some time to think and take a quick inventory of everything. It appeared that he was, most importantly, not dead. That seemed like a silver lining to the whole situation. It certainly cheered up Soarin quite a bit. On the downside, the reason he knew that was because his body was aching in numerous places. A movement check affirmed that no bones were broken, though his wings had taken a bad smashing. If flying had been shaky before, he figured gloomily that his wings had no doubt been effectively clipped by this catastrophe. Looked like when he did when he got up off the ground, he was going to be hoofing it. To most pegasus ponies, it probably wouldn’t be more than a disappointing inconvenience. To an athletic pony like Soarin, the idea of not flying for a month of recovery was definitely upsetting. He reminded himself, again, that at least he was alive. Then again, he wasn’t certain why. He remembered distinctly that ominous face directly over his, about ready to strike. That thing – that Changling – had no doubt been moving in for the kill before Soarin had blacked out. It seemed to him quite lucky that he wasn’t torn apart and eaten by this point. With the good and the bad sorted in his head, Soarin tried his luck once more at cracking an eyelid to suspiciously examine the world around him. After forcing himself to adjust, he began to realize he was definitely not where he remembered being before. Opening his eyes fully, he carefully raised his head, wincing as his skull screamed in protest. Shut up in there. Rubbing his injured temple gingerly, Soarin pushed himself into a sitting position. So far so good. And now for the standing. He was wobbly, but Soarin managed to get himself upright soon enough, looking blearily around. No, it was definitely not the gloomy and grey trees he’d been flying over… recently? Had it been a long time? He didn’t know if it was even still the same day. Well, that was an unfortunate thought. Therefore, Soarin decided to simply not even think about it. Instead, he looked curiously at these new trees. They all looked to be quite barren and dead, as if it were autumn when everything when to hibernate, instead of late spring – the rainy season. But instead, the trees seemed to be resolutely grey and black, limbs twisting about in violent outrage of the intruder. Soarin thought this place more hostile than the forest from before. Surely he couldn’t be that far away from there, though. After all, it wasn’t like one simply magically transported or something. Soarin knew he wasn’t the brightest pony in the bunch, but even he knew that. Or so he hoped, anyways. Soarin became aware at that point of a trickling sound. Looking around, he followed the noise until the earth became moist under his hooves. There was a decrepit little stream gently winding itself along. Without thinking, Soarin gratefully dipped his head in and drank heavily. The water was a bit grimy, but otherwise passable. He slurped noisily and happily, feeling quite refreshed now that he had some liquids in him. It was then that he looked down and realized – “No!” Soarin wailed. “My lucky shirt!” Whoever or whatever had dumped him here had stripped him not only of his saddlebag, but his favorite lucky shirt as well. He once won a Black Rabbit tournament wearing that shirt! And now it was gone, as good as dead wherever it was. This had Soarin far more upset than waking up battered in the middle of nowhere; he could take care of those problems. The shirt, however, was lost forever. Suddenly forlorn, Soarin sat abruptly on his haunches, the full gravity of the situation hitting him. He didn’t know where he was, where he was going, and wasn’t really in that fit of a state to travel anyways. This was presenting a bit of an issue. He tried to think about it, but his head just pounded harder in response, as if his brain were telling him to stop bothering it. Deciding his brain probably would be able to think more clearly later, Soarin got to his hooves, picked, a random direction, and started walking. Moving his head too much caused lances of pain to shoot through him. “Ow. Ow. Ow.” He whimpered in tangent with his headache, though plodded on dutifully all the same. The forest didn’t appear to vary much in appearance as he traveled on. Each weak bush of dead grass looked as same as the next, and the trees didn’t appear to have any variance in species other than dead and deader. Is deader even a word? He looked left and right but nothing seemed to change. The path he had set off on followed close to the little stream, but he didn’t seem to be seeing any hint of a path, or even a little bit of civilization. He wouldn’t mind having somepony show up to point him the way home, or even offer a little bit of dinner. He was feeling quite famished. He supposed being attacking and laying unconscious for a few hours really worked up the appetite. Soarin wasn’t being rewarded with any such luck however. There wasn’t even a scrap of life in the area to snack on. Ahead, however, he finally began to see a bit of change in scenery. It looked like, from his angle, a possible pond. If there was anything living in the area, surely it might show itself here. Soarin approached eagerly. Under his hooves, he heard a curious snapping sound. There was one moment for him to look down at the ground in confusion. And then he was suddenly lifted into the air, bouncing slightly when he started coming back down. The world was a disorienting whirl of ugly monotone colors and shapes before he finally seemed to settle. His head officially felt like it was about to fall off at this point, and he was honestly sick to his stomach. But now he could see, from a very inconvenient angle, that he was stuck in some sort of netting. A trap. Of course. “Celestia, why have you forsaken me?” Soarin’s voice was a moan of frustration more than anything. He couldn’t believe that, of all things, he’d been caught in some sort of net. His body was twisted in an awkward U-shape, his hindlegs practically shoved over his head. His wings were especially crushed into the net, feathers sticking out in a haphazard manner. Soarin supposed he’d already lost a decent amount, why not snap off a few more? It wasn’t like he needed them at the moment. It was apparent he was going nowhere; not until someone came along and decided to take him down. “Could things. Honestly. Get. Any. Worse.” That was when he heard a rustling of movement below. ----- The city in the sky. It was not like anything that Chitin had quite anticipated. He had flown for some time before spotting it; it was quite hard to miss, considering the veritable swarm of pegasus ponies popping in and out of the clouds at any given moment, off to visit the world below or returning back to the city. Chitin had heard of Cloudsdale, although he was quite certain most of these ponies heard little and less about the Hive. The ways of the Changlings were very secretive and tightlipped. It made things quite easy when one’s targets were quite unaware of the true potential of their unspoken enemy. Not that Chitin exactly considered himself an enemy. He was a visitor, although he’d come with a different purpose than collecting energy from the positive emotions of the pegasus ponies. And oh, were the emotions flying just as fast as the ponies. He could almost taste the bubbling joy coming off a particularly self-engrossed couple that was rubbing noses together. It was a bizarre ritual that Chitin hadn’t seen before, but was knowledgeable enough to guess the purpose of the odd behavior. It seemed that a lot of things were done different in Equestria than at home. Or, he realized suddenly, he supposed it wasn’t home for him anymore. Chitin didn’t have any plans on returning, and that filled him with a small sense of regret. At least the Hive had been familiar, even if he had decided to make himself something of an outlaw. And here, he could not drop his guard, could not lower his disguise even for a moment. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help an expression of wonder that covered his face as he absorbed all of the sights. The cities looked just like he’d heard they would. Everything up here was brilliant and shining, the perfect opposite of whatever it was Chitin was comfortable with. While he wasn’t entirely compatible with the place, he couldn’t help but be fascinated with the workings, and compare it with his own home. It was strange, to see so many varied ponies passing. Sure, they were mostly pegasus ponies (although he spotted a hot air balloon floating past with what looked like earth pony tourists), but nonetheless, the amazing variety of color and style each one exhibited was enough to impress the Changling. He’d never actually left the Hive on many occasions before, and certainly not to here; it was not his particular, well, destiny as prescribed by the Queen. Not for a drone like him, anyways. It was very carefully that he placed his hooves on his first cloud. He wasn’t quite certain his transformation magic would provide him with the powers of walking on the clouds that these ponies seemed to have, or if perhaps his own innate powers would let him cloud walk anyways. Regardless of the actual answer, he found his hooves comfortably nestled in the soft white fluff. Strange indeed. Wandering through Cloudsdale wasn’t an experience all that different from the Hive Center, he found out shortly afterwards. Here, many ponies were just as quickly to be on their way to whatever business they had in mind, and they frankly barely glanced twice at him. It was less these encounters between strangers than the absurd good natured behavior they seemed to exude in other circumstances. When two ponies that knew each other crossed paths, they stopped and chatted with easy familiarity. Chitin felt a light touch on his shoulder. He practically leaped out of his tacky topwear in surprise. Turning to face the offender, body tense, he found himself looking down at a wizened pegasus who was watching him with what seemed to be general bemusement. “Errrr… good… hello?” Chitin fumbled with his words slightly. His voice sounded different to his ears, as it did with a full transformation. He supposed he sounded just as fumbling and bumbling as whomever that stallion was that he had replaced. Even so, he felt a bit like hitting himself for not even thinking of a proper greeting. Now he was looking awkwardly into the eyes of this old pony, who seemed torn between amusement and apprehension. “Well, hey there. Sorry if I, er, startled you son. It just seemed like you were a bit lost here. Newcomer, huh?” “Uh, I guess that’s a word for it.” Chitin looked warily down at his unwanted companion. The pegasus had shoulders sloped forward with age, and wings that looked like they could barely flap, let alone keep that rickety body in the air. The pony’s mane was thinned almost to nothing, just a few wisps of straggly white hairs that clung stubbornly to the scalp. His general color was a muted orange – perhaps washed out as the years flew past. Nonetheless, there was a sort of concern that Chitin felt around the pegasus. It was almost palpable to his innate sense for affection and love. While not at all equal to such feelings in strength, there seemed a sort of passing camaraderie he was projecting towards Chitin. His inborn empathy (as a matter of finding sources of “food”), Chitin acknowledged, would provide a sort of defense against possible bad intentions. “Well,” the aging pony continued uncertainly. “My name’s Flicker Top. And no, before you go asking, it’s not cause all the mares flick their tops off when I walk past.” He gave a toothless chuckle, and Chitin felt his eyebrows split in different directions as one practically hit his hairline, and the other plummeted until his right eye was squinting. The elder stallion seemed to realize that Chitin was not actually enjoying the joke only a few moments later. Coughing slightly, Flicker looked at him with a lop-sided smile. “I apologize, son, still got the old sense of humor, you know. Anyhow, what do they call you?” Oh, right. A name. He still didn’t know it. He’d looked through all of the random objects (mostly snacks) in the saddlebags of his victim, but nothing contained any identifying information. Not even a penned in name on the tag within the strange body suit. Chitin thought it might have been a bit childish, but at least it would have been helpful in finding out who he was supposed to be. Thinking fast, he looked around. Inspiration, think, think. “Umm… Nimrod!” Okay, probably not the best answer. Resisting the urge to smash his hoof into his mouth, he cleared his throat. “That is, um, Nimbus Rod. But, er, my friends call me Nimrod?” He smiled weakly, trying not to feel pathetic. “Eh? Nimbus Rod, huh?” Flicker thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I like it. A strong name. Nimrod, it’s real good to make your acquaintance. You seem like an interesting young fella, and I’ve got nothing to do since I retired. So why don’t you and I go see the sights, huh?” Chitin might have refused, if he didn’t realize that it might actually be helpful. With a guide, he might actually be able to figure the place out, find out what he was doing here, and maybe even get himself a vague idea of a battle plan. Honestly, he knew that it was better to find a way to store up some power, and then find somewhere safe he could place the orb. “Er, alright Mister Top. I guess.” Seemingly unable to recognize reluctance when he heard it, Flicker Top gave an enthusiastic whack of Chitin’s back. “That’s the spirit! I’ve always wanted to be a tour guide!” Uncertain what exactly what a tour was let alone someone who guided it, Chitin followed Flicker anyways. The pegasus pony generally seemed content to do most of the talking, while his Changling companion trailed behind, listening and observing. Commonly Flicker Top interjected with jokes, especially perverted ones. “I remember in my day when I canoodled a waitress in the backroom of this restaurant,” Flicker Top said with a wink at Chitin as they passed a respectable enough café. Chitin spent the next couple of minutes attempting to remove that image from his mind, all while Flicker Top cackled. This stallion was an outright pervert. Chitin couldn’t imagine why he’d chosen the lost looking blue pegasus out of the crowd to make friends with. It seemed more like he was more interested in scoping out the mares than anything, so why not hit on them instead of drag Chitin around? Unable to penetrate the mysteries of Flicker Top’s mind, he plodded along, dutifully looking wherever it was that Flicker Top was gesticulating at wildly. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever been to the Wild West, eh?” Flicker Top asked after noting a pegasus pony with a cowboy hat and spurs that could probably gouge someone’s eye out. “Don’t suppose I have,” Chitin thought, getting annoyed and bored by this point. No tone he took seemed to faze his guide, however. At least he was trying to include Chitin in a bit of the talk this time instead of recounting a weird story about a cloud raining pies after an unfortunate accident at the cloud factory. “Hooo, boy, I got a grandson out there. I swear to you, it’s the only place exciting left in the world. All sorts of craziness with the natives and the pioneers.” Chitin said nothing, thinking about how he’d rather just have a home than an adventure on his hand. “Honestly, if I were just a decade younger, I’d want to be just like that fella, a proper cowpony. Wouldn’t you?” “No, not really,” Chitin flatly stated. Surprised at the outright denial, Flicker looked at Chitin curiously. “Well, why not Nimrod? What more would you want?” Chitin couldn’t find a response to that. “Er, I’m more of a stay in one place kind of person.” Flicker Top tilted his head to the side uncomprehendingly. “Then why are you here in Cloudsdale?” Oops. Right, he was traveling. Chitin ran a hoof through his mane. This was seriously starting to fray his nerves. “Ugh, it’s… it’s family business. Listen, I don’t have time for this.” He’d gotten absolutely nothing to accomplish any of his goals from this stallion. It was definitely time to move on. He felt suddenly uncomfortable when he saw Flicker Top’s face fall. “Oh… right. Places to be and such. Sorry, Nimrod, I didn’t mean to hold you up by talking so much.” Chitin looked away, unable to meet Flicker Top’s gaze. The pegasus stood looking balefully for a few moments longer before he turned and slowly plodded away in the other direction. Chitin stared down at his hooves, uncertain at his own discomfort from the very brisk farewell. Taking a circuitous route now, Chitin resumed his solo wanderings. It felt much quieter now without all that talking. If only he could – wait a moment. Backtracking several paces, Chitin stared at the display case of a small music store. There, hung a poster. And on it, there, the same blue mane, the same crazy outfit, the exact marking that rested on his flank even now. It was a poster for the Wonderbolts. And Chitin’s new face was on it.