Changing Ways

by Comma Typer

The Cost of Klugetown

Back in his windmill house, Capper sat down on his comfy chair, facing Sandbar across the round table marred with broken vases and a discolored tablecloth. By the window was a teapot fashioned out of cloth and irregular stitches.

Capper slammed the armrest.

“It’s a good thing I intercepted the letter!” the cat yelled, flailing his paws up and down like someone kooky . “If my boss finds out, he’s going to make me his personal slave or worse, and he will exact revenge on you! He’s not the kind of guy who’s willing to forget mistakes and runaways!”

“What can I do?!” said Sandbar in despair, throwing his hooves out to him.

Capper looked at him intently. “You’re the last one who talked to her before she left.”

Sandbar closed his eyes halfway, growing wary. “How come you know that?”

“I have my ways," brushing the question off his back. “Let’s get to the real problem: How am I gonna make you and Verko happy?”

“You said it was pirates who burned the ship, right?” Sandbar asked. “If it's them, then it’s not Coat’s fault; it’s the pirates’ fault."

Capper hissed, extending a bothered paw. “No, no, no! Verko doesn’t like that kind of explanation!”

“What other explanation is there?” Sandbar reasoned, panicking with dilated eyes. “Are you telling me she sabotaged the whole boat by herself?”

“There were other creatures on that ship,” Capper said, looking out the window and seeing the brown sky. “It’s not much of a stretch that one of the prisoners took her up as a minion, most likely that Tempest unicorn.”

Sandbar leaned his head, curious. “Who’s Tempest? Is she wanted?”

“Notorious criminal in these parts,” Capper said, slouching on his chair. “Infamous for the power of her broken horn. She could blow up entire buildings if she wanted to—and when she doesn’t wanna.” He banged a closed fist on the table, letting a vase fall over and break, then swept the fragments away with his tail. “Probably came from your Equestria, though I don’t know what part of it...but that doesn’t matter!” He struck the table with two closed fists. “What matters is that our lives are on the line and we’ll be in hot water if we don’ help each other out! Verko will be on to you and your pals once he knows a stray pony got into his ship!”

Sandbar felt alarmed, raised his head. “What do you want me to do? I can’t tell Coloratura I’m helping a concat pay off his debt and please his crime boss!”

“Which is why you don’t tell her,” Capper replied. “Make it a pleasant surprise when you’re way over there by the sea, or, better yet, don’t tell her at all.”

Sandbar's nose flared. “This is bad. What did I get myself into with Coat?” He covered his eyes with his hooves and his blue bangs.

Capper crossed his arms, rubbing his fingers in thought. Then, with some more energy than before: “What about you stay here for a while? They’ll be thinking you’re out buying fruits, and if they can believe that, they’ll believe anything. We’ll find a way.”

Sandbar looked at the feline, interested.

“I’m not used to your pony ideas about friends...but I’ll have to take it if I have to get out alive. Might have to meet up with an old buddy I used to know." He lifted a paw, only to let it fall down; a gesture of discomfort. "I could get you a drink. You up for salmon surprise?”

The pony caught himself about to puke, his cheeks bulging. “Uh, n-no thanks! I want something, uh, less fishy.”

“Water?” Capper asked. “Haven’t you forgotten we live in the middle of the desert? Salmon juice is cheaper than water here.”

Sandbar drove out a loud belch.

“Do you want to get to Mount Aris where the hippogriffs are?" Capper asked in a threatening tone. "You better drink something if you want to stay sharp.”

Sandbar sighed, giving up. “Fine. What is it anyway?”

“Glad you asked." Capper smiled. "It’s fresh salmon pound and ground into a pulp, and then we drain the juice from it. Delicious every time.”

Sandbar took up a garbage can and vomited.

---

A knock on the door.

Capper, now alone in his house, sighed. He stood up from his chair, walked up to it, and opened the door.

“Verko!” Capper greeted, putting on a wide smile that pushed the limits of his cheeks. “How’re you doing?”

Verko, on the other hand, pushed the limits of his untrimmed finger by poking it at Capper’s chest. “You’re trying to hide something, aren’t ya?! How come I received the note later than usual?!”

Capper held up his paws. “Woah, woah, woah there, Mister Verko! You seem to be taking this a bit too seriously!”

“That’s because I would’ve liked to put my name up there on those circus tents!” Verko said. “Gives me good publicity! The moment I saw those four, I knew they would be the stars of the show and I would finally lift Klugetown out of its poverty.”

“You mean you’d finally lift your cronies out of poverty?” Capper snarked.

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, fella’, and you know it!” Verko shouted, slamming the door shut with his foot. He rubbed his goggles clean from mist. “The circus is a lucrative venture! Those diamond dogs’ve never seen the light of day, so anything’s possible with them!”

“I know it’s nice to let them have some entertainment, but—“

“Who cares?” Verko shoved him away; Capper almost staggered to the floor. “I’ve lost a fifth of my fortune acquiring those acrobats, and they’re either dead or held for ransom. I can’t afford losing more bits to some swindlers!”

Capper chuckled, muttering, “Says the worst swindler in history.”

Verko shook his head, tsking all the way as he paced the room. “This is unacceptable. You know the saying, right? ‘Everything costs in Klugetown’? Well, I’ve paid up just to see good money burn, and now it’s your turn to pay up! Give me those five hundred bits now! No extensions!”

Capper dropped his smile. “Uh, what?”

“Those five hundred bits! Where are they?!”

He growled, looking past the window.

“Ah, looks like you’ve hired your own crony to do the dirty work for you!” he said. “Good thing I know what mercy means! Make sure he scraps it up by tonight, or else you’ll be assigned to the Dragon Lands!”

“You’ve got contacts there?!” Capper yelped out, reeling a few steps from his boss.

“That’s the thing,” was his placid reply, turning his back on the cat. “I don’t.”

---

Sandbar found himself in the middle of a dark alleyway; broken pipes dripping water falling onto his head. He looked here and there, hid himself behind a couple of boxes.

“Where’s that Chummer guy?” Sandbar whispered to himself, examining the space before him again. “He said I had to look for the door with black stripes, but it’s nowhere!”

Then, a glow before him.

Sandbar gasped. “No...not here! Not here!”

Grabbed, mouth covered by a black hoof, and forced down to the ground by another hoof.

Tried to scream—muffled. His eyes adjusted to the darkness to see the changeling pinning him down.

“Don’t make so much noise!” came the reluctant voice of Thorax. “I don’t want this to be harder than it should be.”

"Mm-mmm, mm, hmm!"

Thorax opened his mouth and fed on the pony’s love, bringing a pink stream out of his body.

Sandbar’s eyes tired, his restless hooves slowed down.

Thorax sniffed. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize!” spoke up Pharynx who stepped into view from farther in the alley, holding a sack. “Just ask him about the location of the pony base and we’re good to go.”

Sandbar looked, shook his head rapid.

Thorax was still holding his hoof on the pony's mouth. “When I let go, you should answer my questions as quietly as possible. Don’t try to shout for help; I’ll just get more love from you.”

Sandbar still shook his head.

Thorax sighed.

Pharynx shoved his brother to the side. “Let me handle this!” Then, facing Sandbar with an upraised sack: “Alright, tell me where your pony friends are!”

Sandbar spat on his face. “Never!”

A hiss and another stream of love was gone from him. He slumped down to the floor, a waning body.

“Again! Where are your pony friends?”

“Never!”

Another hiss, another serving of love.

Thorax shuddered on the side, wanting to move back but standing frozen there, seeing Sandbar dwindle down—eyes floundering, hooves and legs limping about.

“We’re going to run through this one more time. Otherwise, I’m going to cripple you into a lifeless slave with nothing for you! Tell me where are your pony friends?!”

Sandbar breathed fast, tears all over. His hooves convulsed, could barely lift a leg up. He was lying down on the cold, hard ground; no comfort to be found there.

Closed his eyes.

Whispered, “Mom, Dad...thank you….”

Pharynx chuckled.

Sandbar opened his eyes. Faced Pharynx. “Never! I’ll never give you the answer!”

Pharynx grumbled. “Pony, you’re making a big mistake right here. Are you sure you want—“

“I’m not sure! I’m certain!”

A look of horror flashed upon Thorax’s face. He glanced at Pharynx who was bending his neck; he could hear bones crack.

“Eh, we’ll find your base anyway,” Pharynx said. “I was hoping we’d find a shortcut.”

He unleashed his tongue in a wild hiss and depleted the love out of Sandbar, making him move in and out of consciousness as the pink streams rushed like a hose on full blast.

It was over.

He closed his mouth.

Sandbar fell senseless to the ground.

Thorax leaned in, checked his pulse. “He’s still alive.”

“Good,” Pharynx said. “One more servant for us.” He stuffed Sandbar’s entire body into the sack, then tied it up with some rope. He turned to Thorax who could not stand still for he was shivering violently. “I trust that you will stay under cover until the rest of the crew arrive. Be the welcoming party...or something." A pause. "For me, I’ll stash him somewhere safe.”

Pharnyx flew off, carrying the concealed body on his back. He disappeared in the shadows of throwaway skyscrapers made of stones, brick, and wood under sloppy paint.

Thorax’s eyes fluttered. He let out a dampened yowl, seeing the creatures on the road walk around and push each other, about to start a fight.

Then, a shadow on the ground spreading its wings.

He looked up.

The last thing he heard was “You’re not gonna take away my friend!”

Changeling kicked on the head and knocked out.

---

Coloratura sat alone in that secluded room of boxes and crates marked “Moving/Fragile”. Before her was a lantern on a table, resting beside half-burned books, a watered torch, and some unused matches. It was dusty; she coughed, stood up.

“First Fresh Coat, and now Sandbar,” she mumbled to herself, almost giving way to a stutter. “Next is probably Gallus. Then who? Perhaps Strawberry Ice is going to be missing, and then it’s going to be Soft Spot, and then it’ll go on until it gets to m-me….”

Coloratura took the chair, sat down on it. She massaged her forehead, jittery at the hooves.

“I didn’t sign up for this! I was supposed to be a singer, a singer and a role model for the foals, not spearhead a rebellion that’s not even rebelling anymore but just...retreating, down and down until we hit water and we have to make a boat.” She sighed, pressed her temples. “A boat? We’re going to be dead long before we could make a working boat, and then where? Aris? the Scaly Isles? Zorgarth? I don’t even know where Zorgarth is!”

She felt her cheeks puffy. The lantern flickered.

“Everything’s going to fall down. Too many of us in danger, some of us missing or captured! I wish I was back...back to the good old days when all w-was right, when we could hug each other and say that everything will be alright, everything’s gonna be OK….”

She cuddled up on the chair, pulled up her hindlegs.

“Everything’s going to be OK, Coloratura. Everything’s going to be OK.”

A hard knock on the door.

She stood up, sliding the chair with a noisy grind. “Who is it? I’m busy.”

“Get out of there,” demanded a gruff voice. “We know who you are, changeling.”

Coloratura looked flustered. “What?! I’m not a changeling! I was with all of you the whole time!”

“Except when you’re locked up in this room!” the voice shouted. “I and what’s left of the Guard’s got here to make sure everyone is safe. We don’t want anyone to be endangered by you!”

Coloratura took out the lantern and held it up with a hoof. “I’m not a changeling! I can prove it to you! I have the green gooey stuff—“

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am."

She clucked her tongue. “Who are you again?”

“Flash Sentry, once part of train patrol.”

Coloratura furrowed her long eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you be following someone else? What about the ponies with their underground—“

“They have their own guards,” Flash said. “Now, get out or I’ll make you get out.”

Coloratura took out a match. She drew out a sigh and lit it up. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” The door creaked open, revealing a bit of his yellow muzzle. “I’m ready—“

He saw the fiery match on her hoof.

“—and nevermind. Please don’t burn yourself. It’s not worth it, bug. With us, you’ll live.”

“I’m not a bug, I’m not a fly, I’m not a mosquito!” Coloratura insisted. “I’m a pony! A mare, an Earth pony! I am Coloratura!”

Flash grinned. “Good to know!” he said in an elated voice.

Coloratura shuddered. “What’s going on?”

The guard kept on grinning as he glowed blue.

Then, there was no guard. There was a changeling.

“You made it here?!” Coloratura screamed, holding both match and lantern up in her hooves. “How is that possible?!”

Cornicle fully opened the door, revealing a group of changelings holding the lifeless bodies of her ponies. “Aren’t you supposed to be moving fast? We caught up to you, that’s all.”

Coloratura looked at the wall behind her. “You’ve still got a lot of catching up to do!”

She punched the wall and jumped out through the hole.

The changelings rushed out to the hole and looked down.

No sight of Coloratura in the vast and tumble-down view of Klugetown’s filthy streets below, some inhabitants looking up at the changelings.

---

Coloratura hid out in the scaffold behind the wooden blades of the windmill, light coming in and out as the sail turned. Beside her were cans of chocolate bars and a jug of water half full. A little behind her was a fluffy pillow.

She lied down on it and looked up, seeing nothing but the blackness of what was supposed to be the ceiling.

“They’re g-gonna find me,” she muttered to herself. “They’ll f-find me. It’s only a matter of days, hours, minutes...maybe a changeling’s right behind me. Maybe he’s the chocolate. I didn’t touch the chocolate yet. Why would it stare at me with those wrappers and that steel...tin...metal can?….”

She noticed the light shine on her again. Coloratura poked her head out and looked down.

Saw changelings riling up ponies and Klugetowners in chains, overseeing them pulling wagons of heavy wheels and those shapeshifting rocks. There was a changeling—distinct because of his purple eyes—yelling at a probable lackey, “I can’t face Chrysalis with a brother unaccounted for! You have to find him! He can’t be that far off; this is supposed to be the last group of ponies they have over here!”

Coloratura sighed, put her head back on the pillow, and closed her eyes. She tried, in vain, to sleep the night away under the solemn sky, under the dark ceiling.