//------------------------------// // Steve and The Cutie Mark Crusaders 3 // Story: My Little One Shots // by Dashea Rayne //------------------------------// Steve and the Cutie Mark Crusaders 3 “Say what now?” Apple Bloom questioned, her head cocked slightly and one of her eyebrows raised. Next to her Scootaloo was gazing at something Sweetie Belle assured them was porridge, but for some reason had a weird green tinge to it and, at least to Apple Bloom, smelled of hay that had gotten wet before left to sit for a couple days. Watching the young Pegasus cringe slightly, the Earth pony wondered if it was because of what was in front of them, or because Sweetie Belle had just squealed, “We should totally get our Cutie Marks in tasting food and telling the quality of whether it is good or bad.” Glancing at the bowl before her, Apple Bloom suppressed a shudder. She knew she wasn’t the best cook in Equestria. But Sweetie Belle was the one who could outdo everypony when it came to being a terrible cook. She was the type who could burn juice, liquefy toast, had managed to light a salad on fire, freeze water whilst it was boiling, and held the record for being the only pony to ever be banned from Sugar Cube Corner’s Sister Hooves Social Bake-Off after the baking soda incident. Across the table from her, Sweetie Belle was now humming something as she tried to dish herself up a bowl from the kettle set in the middle of the table. Using her magick to extract the wooden ladle, which was now a blackened, burnt, twisted and melted mess, the Unicorn filly stopped humming and exclaimed, “Dumb ladle,” before using her magick to try and set the serving spoon off to the side. Watching as the remains of the ladle overshot the end of the table and instead soared out the nearby window of their clubhouse, Apple Bloom shared a worried expression with Scootaloo. As the two exchanged glances, Sweetie Belle dipped her bowl into the kettle, scooped up a fair bit of the last of the porridge, and gently set the bowl before her. Unaware of what had happened to the serving spoon, the Unicorn filly breathed deeply the foetid stench coming off the glop in her bowl. Not smelling anything wrong, Sweetie Belle reached for her spoon, but stopped when she noticed her friends weren’t eating. Concerned, she squeaked out, “What’s wrong?” Searching desperately for a proper way to tell the Unicorn that eating her cooking might be akin to drinking from the hog-pen runoff, without hurting her feelings, Apple Bloom glanced at Scootaloo and fumbled for an excuse. To her relief, the Pegasus filly cottoned onto what she was trying do and adopting a look of remorse, Scootaloo explained, “We would totally like to eat this delicious looking breakfast, but it’s way too hot at the moment.” “Yeah, too hot,” Apple Bloom echoed. A mixture of emotions flashed across Sweetie Belle’s face before she exclaimed, “That’s a relief. I thought it was because you didn’t like my cooking. Rarity is always complaining every time I prepare something.” “And I can see why,” Scootaloo muttered under her breath. Not hearing this, now smiling, the Unicorn filly stated, “I know. Let’s go for a walk. When we get back, the porridge should be cool and we can try once more to get our Cutie Marks as food taste testers.” Thinking they were more likely to get their Cutie Marks in being the first ponies poisoned by toxic waste, Apple Bloom listened as Scootaloo said, “That’s a totally good idea. But if this doesn’t work, what should we try next?” Instead of answering the orange Pegasus, Apple Bloom took on a thoughtful expression as she racked her brain for ideas. But, rather than coming up with any, the young Earth pony found herself thinking that if there was a lessen to be learned in all this, it was that Sweetie Belle couldn’t, and shouldn’t, cook. Realising that the other two, who were tossing ideas back and forth, had already left without her, Apple Bloom found herself fearing for Sweetie Belle’s future special somepony if they ever asked the Unicorn to cook something for them. Calling out, “Wait up,” she dashed after the other two, pulling the door shut as she went. Quickly catching up to her friends, she expressed her idea of what they should try next, if Sweetie Belle’s idea didn’t work. --- Rubbing his head, which had a good size bump forming, the Changeling stared at the blackened stick that had hit him in the head moments ago. Gazing up at the house that had been constructed in the tree, he sniffed at the delicious smell wafting out of the window and tried to figure out if the burnt stick had come from there and, if it did, why. Sure, he reasoned, he wasn’t like the rest of his Podlings. While the rest of his kind were black, adored their Queen in their own sick way, wanted only to suck the love out of everything, and had no names, he, himself, hated Chrysalis, was a golden colour, liked to be called Steve, and had no use for sucking the love out of anything. But, none of these reasons, motives as to why he had fled, were good enough to justify dropping a burnt stick, one that reeked of the delectable odour from above, atop his head. Attempting to sort out the why of the matter, Steve was distracted by the sound of a door opening, followed by the chorus of three voices talking rapidly amongst themselves. Seeing that they were ponies, knowing what the equines thought of his kind, the Changeling thought quickly before transforming himself into a gold finch. This wouldn’t have mattered really. For when he finally got a good look at the three, confirming what he had suspected, and that it was indeed three fillies, he watched as they trotted off, still talking quickly amongst themselves, not really paying the least bit of attention to anything around them. Changing back the second that he could no longer see, or hear, the three, Steve decided that he should be moving along rather than run the risk of being caught by some ponies. Of whom he knew were no friends of his kind and thus would treat him in the same manner that they dealt with any Changeling. But that smell. It was so tantalising that, looking up again, his stomach making hunger noises, he actually found himself drooling. “A quick peek shouldn’t hurt,” he thought as he contemplated turning into something with wings and flying up to the window. But, deciding against such a move, he walked over to where he had seen the three young ponies. Finding a ramp walkway, the Changeling glanced furtively about, toying with the idea of not going up, yet also thinking about the bark and fungi he’d been living off of for the past several weeks. His stomach once more announcing its need for decent sustenance, Steve hesitantly made his way upward. Pushing open the door he came to at the top of the ramp, nostrils working rapidly as he sniffed the aroma, tongue flicking out every so often, he peered into the tree house, searching for the source of the scrumptious odour, wary of any other ponies. The small room before him didn’t appear to have much in it. A lit lantern hung from the ceiling and, between it and the windows, it illuminated the room enough to reveal a podium at the back, a table set with three bowls and a kettle, the source of the aromatic scent he reckoned, and various images covering the walls, each looking like they’d been drawn by a foal and depicting young ponies engaged in various activities. Directing his attention fully toward the table, it was unclear to Steve why the ponies had left their meal sitting out. He knew he was trespassing and felt that he should turn around and leave. But, hunger winning out, he took another look about the room, listening for any hint that he wasn’t alone, an opening in the ceiling catching his eye as he did so, and hearing nothing, the gold changeling slunk across the room to the nearest of the three bowls, certain that at any moment, he would be caught. Peering into the dish, Steve found himself staring at a strange, greenish-greyish, lumpy mess that he had no words for whatever it was supposed to be called. Flicking out a claw, he scooped a bit of it and tentatively tried it. Having learned a couple days ago that just because something smelled good didn’t mean it would taste good, Steve supressed a moan of pleasure as the delightful tasting concoction touched his tongue. Leaning forward, he face almost in the bowl, the Changeling began to wolf down the stuff, stopping only after he’d licked the bowl clean. A rich, hiss-like burp uttered, the gold Changeling eyed the kettle and the other two bowls. Thinking there no sense in letting this magnificent feast go to waste, not sure when the next time he would get a decent meal, Steve shifted seats. Tucking into the deliciousness of the mysterious meal, he soon had the other two bowls, plus the kettle, licked clean. Sleepy after having gorged himself, he felt, and knew, that he should be moving along. But, seeing the opening in the ceiling, reasoning that no pony could get him up there, and that a couple winks wouldn’t hurt, Steve trudged across the room and stopped beneath the hole. Letting loose with another hissing burp, the gold Changeling found himself feeling too lethargic to alter his form into something that could fly. Studying the wall for a moment, he eventually began using the chinks to slowly pull himself upward and through the opening. Finding three sleeping bags, he grinned in a languid manner. Not giving it a second thought as to why the outdoor bedding was up there, Steve crawled across the floor and curling up on top of one of the sleeping bags, he was asleep within seconds. --- Breakfast and being taste-testers forgotten, mostly because Apple Bloom had been caught by Applejack and sent off to do her chores, whilst Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had been sent home till their friend had completed her assigned tasks, the Cutie Mark Crusaders where making their way toward the clubhouse, debating about what their Cutie Mark would look like. Sweetie Belle was pointing out it would likely be something music related. Scootaloo, on the other hoof, was certain it would be something daring looking. Apple Bloom just hoped, but figured, it would be something apple related. The tree house coming into sight, the young Unicorn stopped without warning, causing the other two to run into her. The young Pegasus shooting a look at Sweetie Belle, she was forestalled from saying anything when Apple Bloom asked, “Why’d ya stop?” Pointing a hoof at their clubhouse, the Unicorn filly asked, “Did one of you leave the door open?” “Apple Bloom was the last one out,” the orange Pegasus quickly pointed out while the yellow Earth pony suggested, “Maybe the wind blew it open?” Not sure the wind had blown the door open, Sweetie Belle gazed at the clubhouse apprehensively. Feeling cautious about whether something dangerous might or might not have gotten into the tree house, she asked of the other two, “Do you think we should go up? Or should we go get Applejack?” “I’m going up,” Scootaloo boisterously exclaimed. “Maybe I can get my Cutie Mark in catching some dangerous villain who only breaks into clubhouses, “ and, before either of her friends could stop her, the Pegasus filly galloped over to the ramp and up, all the time hoping neither Apple Bloom nor Sweetie Belle could see just how scared she was. Reaching the top of the ramp, she stopped. Peering through the open door, the orange filly started to breath a sigh of relief at the sight of the empty room and instead nearly uttered a whinny of terror when a voice behind her asked, “Ya see anypony?” “I thought you were staying behind,” Scootaloo exclaimed as she whipped about and found herself looking at Apple Bloom. As Sweetie Belle joined them, the yellow Earth pony replied, “I thought we catch whatever it was together.” Seeing the sense in this, Scootaloo nodded and indicating toward the inside of their clubhouse, she explained, “Well, if their was anypony here, besides us, they’re long gone,” as Sweetie Belle squeezed by and made her way to the table. Seeing the three empty bowls, she took a quick peek into the kettle. Seeing that it appeared to have been emptied, the Unicorn squeaked out, “Hey! Somepony has been eating our breakfast! And they didn’t leave any for us!” whilst she examined the kettle closer, hoping she was wrong. A couple steps behind her, Scootaloo supressed an urge to grimace, as she was sure Sweetie Belle would want to make more, as well as the need to comment what a relief it would be that they wouldn’t have to eat the meal the Unicorn had prepared. Instead, in a falsely chipper voice, she announced, “That’s really tragic. Right, Apple Bloom?” Taking the cue from her friend, the Earth filly adopted a look of pity and shaking her head, replied, “Yeah. That’s too bad,” and feeling it needed to be said, added, “We’re really sorry, Sweetie Belle.” Instead of replying to any of this, nor had she heard any of it, the young Unicorn was looking up towards the area were she and her friends stored things of importance, sometimes had sleepovers, and used for activities for gaining their Cutie Marks if they couldn’t go outside, such as if Ponyville was under attack. Seconds after she had commented about the lack of food, she could have sworn she had heard something moving up there. Ears pricked, she waited and listened. And when one of her friends called her name, she merely waved a hoof and told them, “Hush.” After what felt like an eternity, she was finally rewarded when, very discreetly, just barely there, something up above moved. Turning toward her friends, she stated, “I don’t think we are alone.” --- Upstairs, groggy and still trying to fully wake up, Steve listened to this and wondered what he should do. Moments ago he’d been awoken to the sound of voices below and, just as one of them stated that somepony had eaten the food left out on the table, he had made the mistake of shifting so that he could better what was being said. Below, everything had gone silent, except for a comment here or there. Terrified he’d been discovered, he waited with baited breath for the tell-tale sounds that whomever was down below was coming to get him. When it became too much for him, the Changeling decided trying to edge closer to the opening, hoping that by doing so, he could actually see who it was that in the main section of the tree house. Attempting to move silently, Steve had only taken a couple steps when the one he was thinking was of upper class stated that she didn’t think they were the only ones in the tree house. Immediately, thick accent replied that she thought they should go and get an apple jack. The one with the brazen voice commented that they should go up and catch whatever it was themselves, and, near panic that the three would do so, the gold Changeling mentally kicked himself for eating so much. Below, brazen voice was explaining, “…and we could totally get our Cutie Marks in being creature catchers,” which made him wonder if they’d done this before. Afore he could reach a decision on how professional they sounded when it came to catching things, high class called one of the other two, presumably brazen voice Steve figured, a name and stated, “We already tried to do that. That’s how Fluttershy’s table was broke and we almost ended up being turned to stone.” “Don’t call me names,” brazen voice retorted, confirming what Steve thought as the same voice added, “And we weren’t almost turned to stone trying to be creature catchers. We were almost turned to stone because we were trying to catch one of Fluttershy’s chickens that had gotten loose in the Forbidden forest and we’d mistaken for a Cockatrice.” An idea coming to him the instant brazen voice mentioned chickens, Steve mentally kicked himself a second time, this time for not having realised earlier there was a simple solution to his problem. Concentrating as hard as he could, he focused on his ability to change his appearance and within seconds a magnificent golden eagle was standing where seconds ago there had been a gold coloured Changeling. Shifting his weight so that he was now falling downward through the hole, Steve let loose with a loud combination scream and a sort of yelping-bark. Seeing the three ponies he had first seen coming out of the tree house, listening to all three of them utter screams, Steve spread his wings slightly and soared out the open door. Thankful to have gotten away without any sort of confrontation, listening as high class squeaked out, “Happy now? It got away. Now we’ll never know what it was,” while thick accent stated, “Ah tol’ ya we should’ve gotten apple jack,” the Changeling vowed that he would be, from now on, more careful on what he ate. “Especially if it looks like it belongs to someone else, abandoned or not,” he thought as he soared over a red barn and began winging his way toward a thick forest and what appeared to be a dilapidated castle.