//------------------------------//
// Bait and Switch 
// Story: Dragons Don't Do Friends 
// by Changeling209458 
//------------------------------//

"Hey, look who it is!"

Baff startled and tossed his drink, standing at attention as his two fellow roughriders started circling him. After an hour of hard, honest work, the coal-grey featherweight could be trusted to work on his own.

Spike got off Rarity as he motioned Spear and Clump back. "We're off for a picnic, why don't you come with?"

Baff made to answer, but stopped when he saw the friendly face of Dragon Lord Ember the Great and Revenant. Any backtalk he had in mind died on his lips.

"Yeah, pass," he rasped. He snatched the broom and flew back to work, sweeping the streets spotless.

Rainbow Dash watched him picking and lifting half a door, before stopping and catching his breath. "Dude, are you feeling okay? Your voice is kinda..."

"I'm fine!" Baff hocked up another wad, and spit on the stretch of rubble. "These streets ain't gonna mop themselves up here."

Each of the others looked up and down the avenue. The street was totally clear for three blocks behind them, save for a few eroded rings in the cobblestone. Up ahead, the street was littered with organized piles of assorted detritus, some of them partly melted already. How much of that stuff was he using?

"I... think I can pull a few strings," Ember said to deaf ears. In fact, as she approached, she noticed him actively avoiding eye contact, muttering 'don'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlook...'

Crud, maybe that Dragon Stare was a bit too much. "C'mon, it'll be--" Suddenly, she hitched. Thumping her chest, she belched out a scroll. How did Spike get used to that?

Ember opened and read the note. "Rrgh, are you kidding me!?" She tossed it aside and spread her wings. "I'm sorry, Spike, duty calls." 

"Oh." Spike deflated, tapping his fingers together. "Okay..." He hung his head. The look on his face was enough to split her freshly-thawed hearts. Both of them. Then he looked back up. Oh, the doe eyes were just heartless!

He would've made a fine dragon lord. 

Finally, Ember could take it no more. "Oh, c'mere, you!" 

Spike jumped at the free hug. Ember still wasn't sure about the touchy-feely stuff, but if it made Spike happy, she'd give him all the hugs. 

When they let go, she stretched her hugging muscles over her head. "Well, see ya round, half-pint!" she waved, and flew off. 

Half-pint stood there, giving a pity-laugh. Rarity tried her darnedest not to laugh along. The others made no such attempt.

"...I guess it's just us, then," Spike blushed off, with his friends, and his hopeful future-friends, following.

Baff had gone back to his own little world, turning away from the little spectacle. No more breaks. Now it was time to man up, clean up, go home, and re-rebuild his hoard. He'd paid his little debt to Spike.

...Did it count the kid hated it?

Baff shook the thought, digging into the next pile of ex-pavement, when he stopped at the scroll Ember had so carelessly tossed aside.

Finally, with a sigh, his rusty old conscience won out. No, no it didn't count.

"Wait up half-pint, I'm a coming!"

As he caught up, he passed an unassuming alley dumpster. Almost on instinct, he tossed the scroll in with the banana peels, the trash bags, the trophies, the bits, the gold, and the jewelry box.

Kay, that's it. Just to get by! They'll never have to know!











It was high noon in the garden today, on the end of the Great Dragon's Centennial Exhibition. The tulips were in perfect bloom, accenting the lava fountains quite beautifully, making it the best time of the year to take a stroll. A crisp, robust pine ash was mingling with the roses around the plaza, upon which lay a marble statue of renowned philanthropist and sculptor, Sir Garbleton Nichols III, in thinking posture. A conservative rendition of Richter von Throatgouge's fifth completed the set.

Sir Clumpsworth was regaling on the fine details of that ill-fated hunting expedition, as Garble and his companion, Dr. Fizzlepop, Esq, traded blows on the chessboard.

"...And then the poor blighter, bless his heart, tossed his rifle to the ground, and the blasted thing misfired and sent us into a tree!" The round gentleman shook with mirth as he twirled his beloved handlebar. "Twice!" 

The polished doctor saw his opening, and moved his queen into check, with the rook backing him up. "I must admit, old chap, I have grown quite fond of the child as well. Shame, shame--"

Smashing the board, Admiral Garble pulled a phaser out of his coat, setting it to 'stun' as the first H'rogok smashed through the airlock. 

"I shan't have anymore talk of that diminuitive rapscallion!" he raged, opening fire. "Nor will I have you, my good compatriot , abscond from this fine club as well!"

F--zzzztle-X9 didn't respond, having been zapped to atomized dust. It was bedlam. Armored purple and blue warthogs now swarmed the deck of the Bloodstone Officiator, hairs bristling for some action. Two, four, eight, dozens. Garble vaulted over the comms, slugging a piggy right in the face.

"You all really must stop reading the Horsetrotten pages." The ship sparked and shook as Cadet C'lmp was hurled through half of the bulkheads. The now black-eyed alien wrestled Garble to the floor.

"Nest liner, all of it!" He kept firing defiantly, even as he was carted off to the mothership. "Be real men now. The Torch Times have always been the voice of reason..."











'What's one little game?' He asked. 'Just a little fun!'

Well, now, he was gonna be banished. No, executed! No, public towel whipping times infinity!

Fizzle the deep-doo-sitting dragon sat in the hospital lobby tapping his foot, quivering, steaming, his nerves ready to burst. He'd only heard of these places, these 'hospitals', secondhand. He'd seen them from the outside, where grown ponies went in kicking and screaming. And when they left, all that ever came out was wrapped in bandages, needing a wheelchair to get around. Now, he was in one of them. Alone. With Applejack.

Well, her and a few lingering clouds of dust in the waiting room. As soon as they'd taken a seat, everypony else suddenly felt better, filing out in droves with a new spring in their step, leaving the albino mountain dragon to see how many times he could tie his own mouth shut with his tongue.

Nerves and boredom were a hell of a combo.

Fizzle slurped his tongue up, twenty-five, and resumed switching between hyperventilating, speculating on his grisly demise, and clawing the ruined bottom of his seat.

Garble knew, okay? He knew about his thing with kids, ever since Belhoof! And he sent Fizzy after that wagon anyway. They knew how this was gonna end, and still he went with it! Why? Why did he keep doing this to himself?

Oh. Because Garble asked nicely, that's why.

He looked up at the clock. It'd been forty minutes. Time to verdict? Still waiting.

Ugh, what was with all the waiting here? What was even the point of this room!? He leered at what used to be a pile of old magazines, and what were now a small pile of little birds and lizards, with a few clippings littered around the table. The legs were always the hardest part.

With no more paper to work with, Fizzle snatched a few marbles out of the flower vase, and took a breath. They started to melt down into--

"Not indoors now," Applejack snipped, still looking ahead.

--Into what would have been a neat little cup, thankyouverymuch. Blowing them out and tossing them back in, he slapped himself and checked the clock again.

Did the minute hand go left or right?

Then he yiped at the sudden noise. Nono, it was just the bell.

Ember and the two 'Lights walked out of the office door, with a giddy red dragon slumped over Ember's shoulder. For some reason, Ember had a bit of a black eye. Garble, for some other reason, was uttering 'pew pew' noises as he giggled dumbly.

"So, is he gonna be alright?" Applejack asked. Doctor Stable checked the clipboard.







"Nice one, Fizzle!"

The trap was sprung. Before the poor mare could react, Fizzle had swooped by and filched her pannier, not laying a scratch on her. 

"No, please! That was my aunt's! I'll give you anything, just not that!"

Garble pushed her back. "Oh, an heirloom?" He played with the orb, tossing and catching it like it was his.

"We got an heirloom here, don't we?" He repeated, grinning madly. "We'd better hang onto this with our lives, then." He nudged his buddy. "I mean, what kind of monster would--"

And without another word, he flipped the ball like a coin and chomped down. Hard. 

Old Aunt Pearl White's glass eye shattered in his mouth.

Fizzle and Colgate both winced.

A tear went down Garble's eye.

"...GaaaaAAAAAAAAGH!!!"





"Frankly, he's lucky his mouth is as tough as it is. Only a few stitches needed, should be out by tomorrow." Dr. Stable looked at the board more tersely. "The sedatives weren't easy to figure out, though. We've never had a dragon before, you see (Not since college.) We ended up using a grown alligator as a template."

Ember felt a moist tickle on her horn, right where Garble was. Fearing the worst, she drew her eyes slowly to where his head was.

"GYAAAH!!"

Garble, just a wee bit smaller than an alligator, had taken to his mother's new creamhorn recipe, and started suckling her horn to find out what filling it was. Ruby? Cherry? Strawberry? 

It took three slugs to get him off her, and he melted onto the floor, singing along with the wallpaper.

Ember thought happy thoughts as she de-violated herself. "Alright, Garble's coming with us. He got his second chance, and he blew it. Now he answers to me."

"What about him?" Starlight pointed.

Fizzle let go of his breath. Right, no use running or hiding. It was time to own up. To Lady Ember's face. The one who held his life in her hands.

"Itwasallhisidea!" He pointed. "I tried to stop him! We weren't gonna hurt anyone!"

"Well, apparently, he did," Twilight pulled the stoned sociopath by the ear, while keeping him off her horn.

"I rrregret to inform the crown... no survivors..." At that, Admiral Garble, Savior of the Galaxy, lapsed into a minute-long drooling contest with the fish.

"Yeah, Fizzle comes too," Ember stated, stroking her chin. "Or come to think of it, I guess he could go chill with Spike and the others. He might learn something."

He blinked. Did she just order him to goof off? Or did she order him to come with?

"...Well? Which is it?"

Oh, it was up to him. That was new.

Fizzy slumped to the floor, every muscle in his body coming undone. That was it. He was done. He couldn't go on like this. He needed to get away and think. Clearly, coherently. Lady knew he couldn't do that around these guys. 

"I'm going with Spi--"

Garble sneezed.

"--With you guys!" He shot up tall and stiff, not stammering at all.

Now it was Ember's turn to feel pittish. Those 'crap-it's-her' looks were funny at first, but now... Were they just afraid of her?

Sure, they're getting what's coming to them, but she wasn't doing all this just to punish them. Mostly. If they'd helped out a bit, she'd hoped, they'd get to know some of the pretty ponies and maybe, bond? Hang?

They did know she wasn't her father, did they?

Twilight and Applejack felt whatever joy there'd been burn itself out. Doctor Stable had goner on to other business, leaving just them, a piteous Fizzle, a pitied Ember, a pitiful Garble, and a pitying Starlight.

Applejack tipped her hat. "I'll go ahead and look for Vex. Looks like you've got some work to do yerself."

"Thanks, AJ," Twi responded.

Then, as she gathered her new troops, the warrior-princess-scientist-magician felt something both new and old. An itch. No, a calling. Her calling. Nono, the other one. As soon as Applejack left, she lit up like a star reborn.

"Ooooh, I'm sorry, I can't wait anymore!" Her horn was sparking. "Oh, an opportunity like this comes once in a... Well never! Do you know what this could do to the field of draconology!? All of science!?" She was squeeing and prancing and hoofy-kicking all over the room. "Culture, history, anatomy, You and Spike only gave me so much! Do you know how many theories and hypotheses I can finally run through with not one, but three whole specimens!"

That snapped Ember out of it. "Specimens? Now hold--"

In a flash, all of them were back in what could only be the castle. Only she'd never been in this room. Twilight launched into full beamy-gush mode as she turned everything on and measured everyone from head to toe to tail.

"Are teen dragons anything like a baby dragon metabolically? How do they sustain themselves on just gems, minerals and the occasional virgin? What about growth patterns? Is the hoard-size coefficient universal to all species, or just Spike's? Ember, let's start with you. We can chat and work at the same time. It's only going to hurt a little, but murmurmurmurmur sciencesciencescience testingtestingtestingtesting..."

Lady Ember wasn't sure anymore, but some little itch in the back of her head told her she really would've been better off with Spike. Starlight's goggle-donning didn't help matters. Nor did the hazmats. Or the cold-looking metal infrastructure. Or the total lack of doors or windows. Or the needles. Garble, still high as a kite, pointed and giggled. "Jolly good show, all!"

Twilight snapped on her welding goggles. "Indubitably!"