Project DYES

by Shadow Beast

Chapter 2: The Debtor's Due

Every night, the changeling would sleep under the green, phantasmagoric light of his lantern. But tonight, he lay on the ground in dimness. The lantern's fuel had become too scarce and, sadly, it barely lit up the corner in which it was placed.

The dimly lit office in which he stayed was one that he was quite familiar with now. He did not need the light, and yet he still wondered if taking it out of the Crystal Empire was such a great plan after all. He shunned the thoughts and turned on the ground. His eyes closed firmly in the near complete darkness. He tried to enjoy the silence.

---

Desert Mirage reported bright and early to his commanding officer. Yesterday’s events had seen him decommissioned from his squad, but the captain wished to meet with him one last time to discuss the true consequences of his actions.

“I had to avenge my squadmates, sir,” the unicorn pleaded to the captain’s back. “You can’t expect me to leave a job half-finished.”

The captain simply sighed. “You say you ‘dealt with’ every changeling in that accursed mansion?” he asked without turning around.

“Of course!”

“And do you remember the objective of that mission?” He looked back, only to scoff at the confused look on Mirage’s face. “It was to secure the mansion. Those were my orders to you.”

“I--”

“But they were not the orders given to me.” He turned to face the unicorn. “It was inherently a distress call... but could have been a trap.” He took a step towards him. “So I’ll ask again: What exactly did you do back there?” The captain saw the soldier’s eyes fall to the floor. “You were still technically part of this team, and if you did manage to rescue anypony... there could be a promotion in store for you.”

His head perked up. “Really?”

“I’m a stallion of my word.”

---

Midnight Masquerade finally picked himself off of the floor as Celestia’s sun reached its peak in the skies above Canterlot. Green magic brought the dim lantern to his desk, where he watched the contents shift and float on the waves of heat and light. He looked toward the drawer on his right, and wondered how much longer the lantern could last without more fuel. Then he looked at the door.

He jumped. Despite his attention, the three hard knocks on the door still caught him off guard. The changeling trotted around his desk, taking a moment to check a mirror to assure himself he was still a purple unicorn. The door remained silent during his slow coming about, but he knew better than to keep him waiting. His hoof steadied his glasses as his horn lit up the door’s handle. It opened just enough for him to see the piercing eyes of the Colonel looking back at him.

The Colonel was a unicorn, taller and more muscular than Midnight’s form. His eyes glanced briefly into the dimly lit room before focusing in on the changeling. “I hope you had a good nap,” he said sarcastically. “You know, three soldiers died out there.” His voice was stern.

“I’ve actually got a lead this time--”

“Three ponies. These missions of yours are becoming far too dangerous.”

“When I contact you for help, I ask for the best.”

“And I forewarned that all of our ‘best’ were sent out to the Griffin borders for the week, including your friend Thunder Sword.”

“I didn’t expect a small time changeling leader to be able to--”

“I don’t care what you expected. My hooves are tied here; you can’t send for reinforcements anymore.”

The changeling simply sighed, his eyes glanced back toward the dim lantern and back to the Colonel. “I can’t fall into any more traps then.”

“We’ve also got a new recruit for this little project of yours...”

“I didn’t approve any--”

“You’re about to.” A large folder was shoved into the changeling’s chest by the Colonel’s magic, forcing him to take a step back in recoil. “Take a look over his file. I need the approval within three hours if the guy is getting in.”

The changeling’s eyes scanned the width of the folder. His eyes jumped up as the door slammed just in front of them. He turned from the door and made his way back to his seat.

“Don’t worry, this’ll only take a minute...” he whispered. His hoof stroked the side of the lantern.

The magic opened the drawer on his right while his hoof covered his mouth. He shook his head and closed it.

“Stupid habits...” he whispered to himself.

He opened the drawer on his left and pulled out the ink and quill. Almost eagerly he opened the folder with green magic, and the unicorn smiled. Name: Desert Mirage was at the top of the first page. The changeling quickly flipped through the rest of the files until he found the approval form. The quill was lit up in green and dipped in ink, and Midnight Masquerade soon stood upon the once empty space marked “Department Head Signature.”

“First chance I get...” he whispered. Midnight turned to the lantern, closing the folder and pushing it aside. “But he did save my life, didn’t he?” He stared into the dim flows of the lantern, his horn shining brighter, and covered his mouth with his hoof.

---

Desert Mirage trotted slowly through the corridor of the unfamiliar compound. He did not think he would ever be in such a high ranked squad, or ever work for the some fictional changeling. Yet there he stood, at last, at the door of the changeling's office. He knocked five times, excited to get started. The stories told him that this changeling had faced dragons and wolves without any fear, and Mirage could not wait to prove himself.

The door opened, and he could see the room lit up in the bright green light of the lantern from before. It's light reflected off of the glasses of the purple unicorn sitting behind the desk. Mirage's brown eyes scanned the room, attracted to the clutter of folders and papers that covered the shelves behind the changeling. There was but a single book on the shelf, laying on its side and covered in dust. Taking the last few steps inside, the door closed behind him. His attention finally turned back to the "pony" in the chair.

"Hello, Desert Mirage." The pony's familiar voice almost seemed to echo in the small room.

"Hello, Midnight," Desert responded. "...sir." He trotted closer and saluted.

Midnight exhaled through his nose. "'Midnight' is fine, I don't expect you to call me 'Sir' here."

Desert made his way to the chair in front of the desk and sat down. "So you're the Midnight Masquerade?"

The glasses on the pony's snout lit up as they were lifted up to the eyes. "Not quite... The changeling who wrote those books you read was my grandfather, you could say."

"Was there ever a third?"

"I think we're a bit off topic," Masquerade said, flipping through the pages of a folder that was sitting on the desk a minute before. He pulled out a single sheet and pushed it into Mirage's chest with his magic. "This sheet will give you all you need to know about changeling ranks."

Midnight gave the unicorn some time to skim the sheet over before continuing. "You don't have to memorize any of it. In my experiences, these refugees have abandoned those standards."

"So every changeling was once a pony?" Mirage asked, his snout glued to the paper.

"That is the norm of Chrysalis's Hive, yes. Our shapeshifting magic is passed down from generation to generation, and ponies have a good balance of mental and physical space to work with."

"There are... other hives?"

"Easily could be. I'm not the first changeling to get exiled from a hive and I'm not going to be the last. I know the Hive under Chysalis had some blood feuds with a couple other hives a long time ago, so they could have survived." Masquerade glanced toward the lantern for a second. "But I digress... I only follow leads on changeling refugees from Chrysalis's Hive which, as you know, was destroyed about a month ago."

"Actually, I had no idea." Mirage said, his eyes finally lifting from the paper. "How was it destroyed?"

"The Elements of Harmony are capable of many amazing things."

"The what?"

"Nevermind. It's not important."

"But I want to know."

"Alright, my grandfather and father worked together to sabotage the foundations of the Hive... The Elements--er, powerful magic sent the changelings flying into it, and it collapsed on top of them all. Including Chrysalis, who I believe has taken her most loyal subjects and departed for another land."

"That sounds pretty awesome." Desert stopped to notice Midnight's stern face. "But what happened to your grandfather? Did he ever write a third story?"

Midnight sighed. "If it were up to me, The Changeling Chronicles wouldn't actually be available to public viewing. But my power is only so great so the third was pulled from the shelves about a week or two after it was published."

"Oh. Did it not get enough use in that week?"

Midnight's horn glowed green as a book passed over his head and dropped onto the desk in front of Desert. "You have clearance to read it. Last time this was on public display, two changeling assassin elites had found it and realized my grandfather and father were working together. They tracked my heritage down, and now only I remain." His voice lacked emotion.

"Wow... That's kinda heavy..."

Midnight maintained a straight face. "It happens." He sighed. "Anyways, the two readings you've received should cover the necessary intel for the job. I'm going to sign you up for some special training so your name looks better after this little project falls through."

"You lost me again."

"I have yet to meet a single civilized changeling out there. I doubt it will be much longer before the search is abandoned."

"But we're also killing rogue changelings," Desert added. "That's gotta count for something."

A few more papers were added to the unicorn's pile. "That should be all you need. I must retire for the night; if you need anything you can ask around and make sure to get your new weapons at the armory before tomorrow."

"When are we meeting again?" Mirage asked, gathering the materials and his thoughts.

"How about lunch? There's a good donut place around here."

"...for lunch?"

"Brunch, dessert, whatever! See you tomorrow, Desert."

The unicorn carried his things quickly out the door, which slammed shut immediately behind him. Desert knew he must have done something wrong again, but he shrugged it off and made his way to his new quarters. Somehow he made it to his new bed without getting lost. Eager to learn for once, he pulled out the single sheet of paper and read it while reclined on the bed. He scoured the data until he found the entry for the "assassins" he had heard so much about.

His smile was robbed from him. His eyes turned to the vague direction of the changeling's office. A smirk wrinkled his face as he turned back to the page. "I don't know what I expected..."

---

The next day...

Celestia’s sun overlooked the local donut shop. Desert stood across the street, taking a breath. His new armor was silver instead of gold, and felt heavier. Unphased, he trotted inside. Several ponies were enjoying a bite to eat, and Midnight was sitting on a stool next to the counter, chewing on a bite from his own treat. Mirage trotted up to him and took a seat on the counter. He placed his helmet on the counter and looked closer at the changeling’s treat: a donut without icing, filling, or even sprinkles.

Midnight swallowed. “How’s the armor fitting?”

“It’s a bit heavy. I like it.” He smiled and turned to the baker, Donut Joe. “I’ll have a donut.”

“What do you want on it?” Joe asked.

“Just glaze.”

“Sometimes I wonder what that tastes like,” Masquerade said, looking down at his plain donut. “Judging by the sugar crystals, probably Pride.”

"Speaking of..." Desert said, not realizing how relevant his topic was. "I read through your file on the ranks last night." Desert paused for a response but was met only by Masquerade taking another bite of the plain pastry. "You said that changeling assassins can never get 'elite' titles, yet your father was killed by an assassin elite?"

Masquerade stopped chewing. He watched Joe serve up the glazed donut.

"You should eat that before it gets cold," the changeling appealed.

Mirage took a small bite, his eyes fixed on Midnight.

Masquerade sighed. "They weren't normal assassins. They were the top of the line, expendable assassins... The kind that are only around because they refuse to just die. The term 'Assassin Elite' is reserved for these outcasts, who are doomed to be worked to death."

"What'd they have against your family?" Mirage asked, taking another bite.

Midnight put his pastry onto the counter. "They were my family." His mouth twisted as his ears caught what he had said and folded down. "I mean... They were monsters. I..."

His hoof snatched the pastry from the counter and sniffed it. He took a reluctant bite as he gathered his thoughts. Midnight's eyes looked toward Desert's, only to see him staring back half shocked and half amused.

Masquerade shook his head and swallowed his bite. "Stop staring at me like that... You act so suspicious of me and it makes it hard to think..."

"But you're a changeling..." Mirage added, a little too loud for a public area. A hoof went to his mouth in realization.

"Don't worry... everybod--er, everypony in here already knows I'm a changeling. How else am I going to get Joe to feed me this stale dough?"

Without another word Mirage’s magic yoinked Masquerade’s donut and he took a bite. The donut dropped to the counter as the unicorn spat out the bits in his mouth.

“And what were you expecting?” Midnight’s head crooked to the left. “Another lie?”

Desert wiped his mouth and shook his head.

“Must I remind you that I’m in charge here? If you don’t trust me, you can pack your bags and go home.”

“I trust you... it’s just--”

“I’m a work of fiction, right? A little story sitting on a shelf gathering dust...” The changeling took a sniff of the air. “Fine. Pack your bags and get ready to go home.”

Desert defeatedly reached for his helmet.

“...to look for changelings,” Midnight added. “It’s a recon mission to Appleloosa.” He smiled. “Finish your donut. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Masquerade found his way back to his office only to find an old friend waiting for him inside. A cream pegasus with a blue and white mane wearing silver armor sat at the desk, looking at the dim lantern Midnight had left there.

“I didn’t know the griffins were this close to home, Thunder,” Midnight said, trotting into his office.

“So you did make it out alive!” Thunder Sword said, turning from the lantern to a folder on the desk. “I brought my application.”

Midnight crooked his head. “Don’t you have your own squad to worry about?”

“We have a temporary leave. No harmful activity on the border in weeks... so I figured I’d see how the domestic borders are.”

“And you think I’ve found leads to changeling breaches in pony society?”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“My ‘job’ is to find the one in a million changeling whose guts aren’t as toxic as the fuel in that lantern and help them join our little society. Only killed about fifty changelings since getting this job... I speak for this department, of course... So your kills are included.”

“I heard you almost...” his voice trailed off. “I mean, what did you find in that mansion?” Thunder Sword asked.

“Nightmares of course; typical of a purist resistance.”

“...purest?”

“No... ‘purist,’” Midnight corrected. “They don’t believe in constant disguises like I do because they love everything changeling. No... actually, I think they just hate everything else more.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah... great.” The changeling sighed. “We’ve got a recon mission tomorrow morning in Appleloosa if you want to join.”

“Awesome,” Thunder said, getting out of Midnight’s chair. “You’ll let me on the team, then?”

“Of course. Just be informed that your weapons...” Midnight’s gaze settled on Thunder’s combat knife. “...should be inconspicuous. It’s a recon mission, not an extermination.”

“Easy,” the pegasus said proudly. “Anything else?”

“You’ll have your ticket sent to you when the paperwork goes through and this lantern is going to get recycled... all tonight. So yeah, that should be it.”

“You’re giving up the lantern?” Thunder worried. “That’s the lantern you’ve had since--”

“--since you guys found me in the Crystal Empire with some of my memory gone and my eyesight stunted.” A hoof straightened his glasses. “I know. But its time as a light source is well past due here.” Midnight’s eyes met Thunder’s and a grin creased the changeling’s false, purple snout. “I never expected a soldier like you to be so sentimental.”

“I’m just worried about you. It’s been a while and you probably don’t remember--”

“The tall, tall cliff at the edge of the world?” Midnight spoke sternly. “Reading those stories bring back more sentiment than some cracked lantern can possibly restore.” The light in the room flickered more than usual. “I suppose I should get going... I’d hate to see it die after all this time.” He picked up the lantern and placed it in his saddlebag, concealing it.

Thunder’s voice stopped him from leaving the room. “I thought you said you didn’t care if it died?”

“A lantern is but a cheap, one in a million construction of glass and metal; it cracks and rusts away. It is the light that I fear to see die... or maybe I just hate the darkness more.”

Midnight turned from his friend and trotted out the door, eventually finding his way to the light that only Celestia’s sun at noon could offer.

Comments

[Vitae]

Don't change your headcanon because of that horrific episode.