After close to an hour spent searching all of the places the red-eyed pony had told him to, Bluebird worked up the nerve to return to Grid’s room. This time, there was no doubt about its occupancy, even before knocking; the room’s light was on, and a pulse of music leaked through the door. It sounded muffled by headphones, and at this distance was faint and tinny, but for Bluebird to be hearing it at all, he knew it must’ve been playing at a deafening volume.
Grid sounded like he was having a good time. Probably shouldn't interrupt.
Bluebird shifted in place before the door, stealing a look back down the hallway he came from. He could just stick with the original plan. Go back and search the boiler room.
He took a deep breath.
No. He couldn’t run away from this. Why would he even want to? He had questions, and it was literally his job to ask them.
The cadet reached forward and gave a timid couple of raps on the door with the back of his hoof. Given the music, it was doubtful that Grid would hear them. Not to his surprise, his knocks went unanswered.
With more force, and this time using the firmer underside of his hoof, Bluebird gave it another go. It was the loudest he could knock while still being polite about it. Still no response.
Welp, he’d tried his best. It was the perfect excuse to walk away.
…
But it wasn’t his best, and he knew it. Even as an apprentice, he had been given plenty of opportunities in his line of work to knock above and beyond the levels of mere politeness. This was surely one of them.
Bluebird braced himself against the door as he unleashed the loudest bangs he could muster short of damaging the door. “Grid! I just want to—”
The door yielded. But it was neither the hinges giving out nor Grid answering that was responsible—the door simply glided open a few inches under the force of the knocking itself, as if it had been ajar all along.
“… Grid?”
The cadet hesitated before pushing the door open and peeking inside. To his relief, the scene was a boring one: In the corner of the room, Grid sat leaning back in his chair at his desk, eyes closed and bobbing his head in rhythm with the music from a portable cassette player. The sound that leaked through the headphones was even clearer now that there was no door between them. Slow, heavy guitars dominated the song’s chorus.
He called out Grid’s name once again, to no effect. Grid was off in the land of hard metal. Exasperated and without any other options, Bluebird simply walked over, extended his wing, and tapped Grid on the shoulder. As the cadet could have expected, Grid turned slowly at first in reaction to the touch… and then nearly fell over in his chair once he connected it to the pegasus standing at hoof’s reach right behind him.
“Bluebird?!” He ripped the headset off his ears and blinked in rapid succession. “Yeah, uh, hey, what’s up?”
“Oh, I just wanted to have a word with you. Nothing serious. But, ahah, maybe we should close the door so we aren’t overheard. That fine?”
“Um, sure.” As the cadet walked back to the entrance, Grid added, “How’d you get in, anyway? Did I seriously just leave my door wide open?”
“Not exactly, but it wasn’t locked.”
“It wasn’t? But I thought I”—he shook his head—“ah man, this whole situation’s got me out of sorts, you know? More scatterbrained than usual.”
“Scatterbrained, huh?” Before closing the door, Bluebird took a moment to test the lock. As he turned the locking knob, the deadbolt shot in and out on a spring action. All seemed to be in working order. “I know the feeling, ahah. Why do you think I keep this thing at hoof’s reach?” The cadet flashed his trusty notepad.
“My dude, you already got that thing at the ready?” Grid laughed. “Guessing ‘nothing serious’ is more than just shooting the breeze, huh?”
Bluebird sheepishly retired the notepad into a distant pouch on his bags. “You’re right, it’s unnecessary. I do have some questions to ask, some of them pretty important. That said, whatever answers you give me…” Bluebird plopped down on the nearby bed, and looked up at the earth pony still seated in his desk chair. “… they don’t need to be recorded. You get what I mean?”
“Ah, don’t sweat it, I was only giving you a hard time. I know it’s your job.”
“Right. My only duty, in the end, is to protect the innocent.”
A long pause ensued while Bluebird mulled over his words. Grid took the time to coil up his headset and cassette player and stuff it into a drawer.
“… You ever heard of roleplaying, Grid?”
“You mean, like, playing make-believe? Pretending to be someone you aren’t?”
“Yeah, you can think of it like that,” Bluebird said. “This might sound weird, but, do you think you could roleplay as the changeling for a minute while I ask you some questions?”
“Hm, you’re right: That does sound weird!” He gave another belly laugh. “Sorry, I’m being a real piece of work. Like I said, I’m feeling kinda ‘off’ in a lot of ways, what with the whole changeling thing and now the Bon thing—ah, never mind. Sure, I’ll roleplay with you.”
“Good to hear.”
“Might I just ask… like, why?”
“Just to help me with the case,” the cadet fibbed. “It might sound like an off-the-wall idea, but ahahahah, it’s actually a common police tactic to help brainstorm!” he lied egregiously.
“Well all right then!” He bared his hooves and narrowed his eyes in mock-villainous fashion. “I guess I’m a big bad bug now? Ask me something… if you dare!”
“Okay! First question: Why were you so insistent last night when you asked me if the Royal Guard was actually on their way?”
“… I dunno.” His eyes returned to normal and his hooves returned to his sides. “I suppose I wanted to know there’ll be an end to this thing, just in case you and Pesco can’t figure it out. Y’know?”
“You’re the changeling, Grid.”
Grid’s eyes narrowed again.
“I mean, you’re pretending to be the changeling. Remember?”
“Oh. Right,” he said. “I guess, if I was the bug and I asked something like that, it would be because I’m afraid of the Royal Guard. That’s obvious, right?”
“Right. It’d only be natural to be afraid.”
The cadet stared past Grid and out the window for a few moments.
“But that’s not necessarily obvious from the changeling’s behavior, is it? If I were him, as soon as I heard the news, ahah, I think I would have grabbed my coat and a few granola bars and hightailed it! I wouldn’t need to prepare my escape plan all that much as long as I could get out of the mountains, I figure. What are they gonna do, put up wanted posters? I’m a shapeshifter, ahah!”
“Wasn’t I the shapeshifter?”
“Oh, yeah. You are. But my point is, you must have something that’s giving you pause, or maybe some sort of baggage that’s keeping you here? If we’re assuming that you’ve been here for years, that the ‘real’ Grid Iron never existed, then you must have formed some genuine attachments to these five by now. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe. I guess.” He shrugged, and shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I already told you last night that all that stuff sounds farfetched to me, though.”
“You’re right. It is just my hunch about these things. I’ll say that I’m not alone, though, because Pesco is pretty convinced of it, too. But I should warn you, ahah… Pesco is starting to come to conclusions that I don’t share.”
“Huh?”
“Anyway! Second question, or whichever one we’re on: Why did you act oblivious to Bon’s advances all these years, and why did you reject him last night? Why can’t you love anyone?”
“… What.”
“You’re the changeling, you feed off love in a very literal sense, right? Isn’t Bon’s affection like ambrosia on a silver platter to you?”
“Sure, whatever. I guess.” Grid shook his head. “Gotta say, not sure I’m still on board with this whole role—”
“So I’ve gotta assume you have your reasons, right? Maybe you just think it would make you too suspicious, it would be too obvious? Or maybe romantic love is like drugs to you, and you don’t trust yourself with it, and anyway your platonic relationships keep you well fed? Like you said, who needs lovers when you have friends, right? A life without all that whatever-you-call it, ahahah?”
Only a stern glower from the ‘earth pony.’
“Or maybe… maybe you just think it would be cruel to Bon. To enter into a relationship on false pretenses. To parasitize his infatuation for you. To break his heart one day if ever he finds out, or you need to run away.”
“…”
“And I’m only saying, if you do run away, you’d better do it fast. But if you’re not a fan of running, if you’re afraid of the cold or if you’ve grown too attached to your five friends… there is another option. You can give yourself up peacefully. Right? And I’ll plead your case that you haven’t hurt anybody or done anything wrong. Because you haven’t! … Right?”
Every muscle in Grid’s foreleg was visible as he gripped the side of his chair. A broken sort of smile cracked his cheeks. He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or to shout.
“Um, dude,” he spoke up, “Bluebird, Cadet, Peter Pan… you’ve lost your marbles. You’ve gone completely nutso.”
Regardless of anything, Bluebird couldn’t disagree. He really felt that way.
“I’m not the changeling. And what, are you trying to help him escape now? Seriously? What ever happened to that promise of justice, huh?”
Bluebird wasn’t breaking that promise. If his mind was gone, his conscience was intact.
“If you don’t have anything else to say, Little Guns, then I think this is the part where I, like, ask you to get out?”
Bluebird sighed. “All right. Just one last question, though, if you’ll hear it out. I should’ve asked it first, since it really is the one that’s most in need of an answer, ahah.”
Grid cocked his head.
“Why did you lie about the protein powder?”
The light in Bon’s room had been off, but a hunch had me knocking anyway. And indeed, after a few seconds of covers rustling and hoofsteps from inside, the door opened. The ghost of underage drinking stood to greet me.
“Why, good afternoon, Detective.” He made the effort to part his unkempt mane and push a smile. “What brings you around?”
“There’s been a development in the case, Bon.” I flashed him my badge in case he needed any reassurance of my identity. “And I believe your talents may put you in the unique position to help convert it into a breakthrough.”
“Oh?” Some color returned to the deer’s face. Whether this was because of the news or because of my bald-faced flattery, one couldn’t quite say. “Mais absolument, I shall do my best if it’s for the sake of the case! ‘Twas time for me to rise from my siesta, anyway. You’ll have to give me a moment to make myself presentable, however.”
“That won’t be necessary. This will only take the antlers on your head and a minute of your time,” I said. “Let’s conduct this inside your room.”
Bon followed my cue and stepped back to allow me inside. I entered and closed the door behind me, shutting out all the light from the corridor. In the dim glow of a nearby desk lamp I could make out a great number of the young master’s playthings strewn about the room.
Bon reached for the light switch.
“Leave it dark,” I instructed. “In a moment, I’ll have you turn off the lamp as well.”
A quizzical look. “Hm, very well.” He lowered his hoof from the switch.
I opened up my trench coat, retrieved the note from the changeling, and flipped it over to show him the crossed-out text. “This is a message we’ve received from the changeling. As you can see, they had some second thoughts about what they wanted to say.” In a low tone, I continued, “I would very much like to find out what that was.”
“From the changeling, you say!” He arched an eyebrow. “How do you figure that, Detective? You didn’t have another run-in with them, did you?”
“Not quite.”
“Hm?”
I didn’t care to explain.
I put the note on a nearby table for the time being, and gestured for Bon to take a look. He slotted in next to me and leaned over the table. He squinted at the scribble in the near darkness before quickly giving up. “If you want to read what’s written, I hardly think having the lights off is going to help!”
“You’re right, of course. But bear with me: I had in mind the light will come from your antlers.” I explained, “You see, ink from a quill will stain parchment differently depending on how it’s applied. For example, the angle and pressure involved while crossing out text is very distinct from that of ordinary writing. This can result in minute differences in how much ink is deposited, and how deeply. These differences may not be visible under ordinary lighting conditions. But, under exotic lighting conditions that the redactor never accounted for… suffice to say, they very much can be.”
“Oh, that sounds ingenious!” Bon admired.
“Not really. It’s the same concept behind blacklight spells bankers use for inspecting watermarks on promissory notes, or that the police use for finding trace evidence at crime scenes,” I said. “My specialty isn’t forensics, but over the course of years, I’ve picked up some tips and tricks around the water cooler.”
“Nonetheless, that’s still more expertise than the changeling has at their disposal, I should think.” He looked back at the scribble before, asking eagerly, “Now, how exactly might I be of assistance? What sort of light do you want?”
“I have no specific instructions. Just vary the intensity and the wavelength of the light from your antlers all across the visible spectrum—and perhaps the nonvisible spectra, as well, if you’re capable of it.”
“But of course!” The young buck all but squealed in delight. “And here I thought my infrared spell would forever remain a party trick…”
“I’ve been told UV is a better bet,” I critiqued. “But yes, you have the right idea.”
And so we began our little darkroom experiment. I held the paper up in front of his brow and angled it this way and that as he smoothly adjusted the glow of his antlers, like a radio operator scanning for frequencies amidst the static. I had to admit I was impressed when he began varying the light from each of his two antlers independently in an effort to increase the search space.
Somewhere around the UV-and-red combination of light, the paper underwent a change. I got my hopes up, but then realized too late what was happening: Both the scribble and the texture of the paper itself transpared, and the markings on the other side became visible.
“Huh, what’s that written on the other—”
He began to twist the paper around with his telekinesis. I jerked it away from him.
“It’s not important,” I growled.
It wasn’t.
The glow from Bon’s antlers faltered for as he took a step backwards. Despite my outburst, he stared at me with at least as much contrition in his eyes as confusion.
“I apologize.” I didn’t know what more to say. After a pause, I simply held the paper back up, scribble-side forward. “If you’d please continue.”
Hesitating at first, Bon acquiesced with a nod. The analysis continued, although the young buck’s enthusiasm never returned. He anxiously looked at me at least as often as he looked at the paper, which did not yield its secrets after a full minute of effort.
“Say, Detective?”
“Yes?”
“If I can’t make this work like you want,” he said, “might I suggest seeking Zorn’s assistance? He has plenty of scientific equipment that could, I'm sure, outshine even yours truly.”
“Hmm,” I grumbled, “I agree, that’s a good idea…”
In point of fact, Zorn was the first one I had gone to after discovering the note. He had refused to help me, once he had glimpsed what was not important.
“… but let’s keep at this for a little while longer, please.” I tried some more flattery: “I truly think you’re the best deer for the job.”
“Very well,” he replied, sighing a little.
The examination continued. “A little while longer” began to overstay its welcome as another minute passed, and then two. By this point, Bon was no longer smoothly sailing across the light spectrum with his antlers, but instead flickering through a multitude of color combinations that had simply been skipped over in the initial search.
All the while, I watched the paper unflinchingly. My eyes burned even more than their usual, but I resisted the urge to blink—and I was glad I did, because that was precisely when I saw it. “Hold it!”
Bon stabilized his current lights of orange and magenta, and peered in for a closer look himself. The scribble was faint, but so too were the words underneath. Cautiously, ever so precisely, he modulated his glow… and like magic, like science, the secret message was brought to light:
Searched Grid’s closet yet??
Pesco not mentioning what's on the note feels narratively clunky, especially since he's mentally expounded on his theories before. He's deliberately thinking a certain way to hold back information from an audience he doesn't know exists.
That fiercely fervent denial raises some questions for Pesco. And the last question for Grid yet lingers. This could get even more uncomfortable for everyone involved.
The note is obviously from the hunter. I would wager his goal is to get Scolus exposed, then kill him, feed on everybody else and wipe their minds of the incident, then grab some snow gear and skedaddle.
And oh what a lie it was!
This roleplaying thing isn't going very well, is it?
I do see what you're trying to do here, Bluebird. Still not sure it's going to work out the way you want or expect it to...but we'll see.
You know, that is a very good point. To a changeling, would it really matter where the love was coming from, so long as it still got love?
...I suppose it could be thinking how it wouldn't be able to return that love very well, and how that might sour the relationship in the long run, rob itself of that love source...
...but then it'd be stuck keeping all of its potential love sources at arm's length to ensure such circumstances never come up, where it wouldn't be getting it's max potential, and that seems like it wouldn't pan out forever either...
I see we're forgoing the whole roleplay charade now, Bluebird.
Good, because that clearly wasn't working out very well anyway.
Yeeeaaaaah, sorry Bluebird, but I kinda have to agree too, you're starting to sound a little Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs there, if you catch my drift.
Yeah, why didn't you just lead with that?
...also, really? Not going to give us the answer until next chapter (if that?)
Yes it is. I'm guessing it's just not the clue you wanted to find, Pesco, but that's on you. Set aside your biases and do your job right, the way you know you need to.
...also, TELL US WHAT'S WRITTEN ON THE DANG NOTE ALREADY!
Gee, wonder why. Zorn obviously already suspects things are not as they seem concerning this changeling, and I suspect whatever's written on that note that you don't want to acknowledge only confirms it.
...huh.
Okay, first of all, I STILL want to know what the other note says, because unlike Pesco here, I am convinced that it IS important to all of this somehow (especially as that was the message they wanted conveyed, but scratched out this bit here as if getting second thoughts).
Second, this sounds like...I don't know if I want to call it a set-up, per se, but it does sound like someone behind the scenes is trying to force things to go in a particular direction...or at least had contemplated it before bailing on that idea...
You know, I take it back--there might really be a second changeling here somewhere after all. But then where? Because at this point I can say with absolute confidence that there can only be ONE changeling posing as one of these kids at most, so the second must be hiding somewhere else nearby.
Despite the obvious set up, no I still don't think Grid's the changeling, at least not with much confidence. Something about that doesn't add up to me. Could he be involved with the changeling in some manner? Possibly. But I really don't think Grid's the changeling. There's a real chance I could end up eating those words here very soon, but I'm sticking with that stance.
Further...what if Grid here is being set-up and framed for it, even if briefly, just so to distract everybody else while our 'ling makes whatever move they've been plotting?
Also, why do I feel like Bluebird's going to regret not going on to search the boiler room after all?
11243347
Then why scratch it out? Why put it on paper then backtrack on it and instead commit to an entirely different message (that Pesco has still, annoyingly, not revealed to the audience watching at home ) that, presumably, doesn't try to throw anyone under the bus? Honestly, it sounds more to me like whoever wrote the note doesn't actually want to harm the changeling, or whomever may get caught in the way.
Also, another possibility to consider--what if the hunter you speak of also doesn't know who the changeling is (at least with certainty) and has also guessed wrong?
Another random thought--why does this hunter have to be a changeling too? Why can't it be some creature else...perhaps another one of the inhabitants of this mansion? I mean, it's a shot in the dark, that one, but still...
11243486
Who knows. Maybe he wanted Pesco preoccupied while he prepared something for when Scolus was revealed?
As for the hunter, it seems pretty clear from Scolus's last flashback that the hive wants him to pay for setting ponies free.
11243500
Assuming the hive hadn't already done that punishing to their satisfaction--after all, we don't know what happened between the time Scolus was caught and here and now. Things may not have went down there as we would want to assume. At the very least, I feel inclined to hold off on assuming too much about the hive's involvement or motivations in all of this (this could be an independent player, acting without orders or authority, after all).
That said, I am more certain now that there's a second nefarious player of some sort in all of this, because that note really does sound like it was an attempt to sell out someone...but I'm not so certain it IS another changeling who's filling in that role. It occurs to me it could be a pony (or other creature) as well, someone anti-changeling enough to want and oust a changeling in hiding, even if they are benevolent and of no harm to anyone. (If I'm right, then maybe Grid's that pony...it would seem to fit his character, given how much he's shown the want to beat the stuffing out of our guilty changeling).
But yeah, looking back, this ALL kinda reeks of a set up, an attempt to try and force a changeling in hiding to be revealed...which might explain why said changeling tried to break into Zorn's room at all. It wasn't a nefarious hunter at all, but the target itself, the changeling in hiding, trying to protect its cover through desperation.
We shall see. We do seem to be setting up for some big reveals on the matter here very soon.
11243300
True, but we also know that Pesco does have the tendency towards tunnel-vision, to become so focused on a possible outcome he wants it to be, that he doesn't give due consideration to the alternatives as often as he should--this has already been demonstrated with Gloria and that darn book, so it IS in character, arguably.
But yeah, won't deny that it is also an obvious attempt to drag out the "big reveal" for as long as possible, narratively speaking. But I've seen way worst attempts at doing so than this before (including one or two of my own, way back when )
11243514
If Grid's the one who wrote the note, then why implicate himself? The note said to check his closet.
I'll concede that perhaps some other creature wrote the note, but I still think this is two changelings and one hunting for the other. As best I can remember, we don't have a timeframe for when those flashbacks happened, so there's no way to confirm anything in regards to whether or not Scolus could have already received punishment.
I will say this though: punishment or not, the hive must view Scolus as a "compromised asset" and by extension a liability.
11243523
You aren't considering that the prey may want to sell out the hunter too... But yeah, sorry, I didn't make that point as clear as I should've. Kinda can't help but regurgitate thoughts as they spring to mind for this story, so a lot of my comments kinda end up all "stream of consciousness" a bit.
True, though in that regard I can't help but think of Thorax's situation in show-canon. He'd very much count as a liability, particularly as he helped to eventually bring down Chrysalis's rule...and yet no 'ling ever seemed to raise a hoof to try and find him when he left, let alone stop him. Chrysalis even seemed to have ruled him off entirely until he turned up again at the hive to stage their little rescue.
Granted, this is show canon, not canon for this particular fic, so don't know how much of this would carry over...but it's a possibility still worth keeping in mind, just in case.
11243523
In any case, one thing is for certain--the fact the writer of our note started to sell out, but then had second thoughts and scratched it out anyway, would seem to imply that whoever it was, they still have a conscious of their own, lines they are unwilling to cross to get what they want.
It's really looking like my prediction about grid iron is accurate. How exciting!
11243486
Shushush, he was trying the good cop approach first...
It's just a shame Grid isn't keen on roleplaying. He can't stay in character. Maybe he's too busy staying in the character of Grid in the first place?
But nah, after all is said and done, I'm not sure where this leaves me, in terms of suspecting Grid/Girard/others. It is intimidating, how it grows more and more likely that there may be more than one changeling involved, which increases the complexity of a solution many times over. I still stand by #OneLingToRuleThemAll, but I am wavering in my faith.
You don't trust Pesco's judgment?
He's like Blanche. He controls the stream of information so that others don't come to the wrong conclusions. He's very considerate like that.
11243609
He also spent several chapters trying to find a book that ultimately proved to be a non-event, so yeah, I don't necessarily trust his judgement in full, at least on this one thing. Besides, it's clear that what he calls the "not important" part of the note presents a picture he's very unwilling to even consider, which is the very last thing you want to do as an investigator. As the saying goes, "when you've eliminated the impossible, then whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth," and I fear Pesco isn't doing that as well as he should.
If it helps, Bluebird's had his moments of doing this as well, so it goes both ways.
11243620
I agree, I'm positive that he's being irrational about it.
With that said, what all do you think could be written on the note that's got Pesco so hung up? The best guess I have is that it's the changeling proclaiming its innocence, pleading to be let go... in which case, Pesco getting riled up about a rescinded message, especially one that would try to frame someone else, isn't actually that irrational. Still a jerkish move, though. I guess Pesco is the kind of teacher who would grade the crossed-out answer on your exam instead of the circled one?
11243674
I, too, believe it says something along the lines of establishing the changeling is innocent, or at least means no ill-intent. Seeing Pesco has, from the start, been a strong proponent of the idea that the changeling is here for ill-intent, and has a bit of pride to himself to the point I could see him being unwilling to admit he called it wrong, so it'd be in his character to be in denial about it.
Of course, arguing that this is just what the changeling wants us to think isn't an unfounded argument in of itself, at least from Pesco's perspective. We can assume differently, because we've gleaned data (particularly from the account of the supposed changeling himself) that would suggest otherwise, but Pesco doesn't know that yet.
Still, him refusing to consider it at all, even fleetingly, is unwise of him. But I expect he'll have to come around and acknowledge its existence eventually, particularly once Bluebird finds out (because he will).
11243300 How do we KNOW he doesn't know we exist? MAYBE HE'S AN ULTRA-CHERNGELERNG and has Pinkie-like 4th-wall abilities! HE'S BEEN LYING TO US ALL!!!
Clever author, hiding some information from the reader that the detective knows, and giving us information that the detective is ignorant of. It's a good way to make the reader come to different conclusions than the detective, or to have us come at the mystery from a different perspective.
I called it: We wouldn't get the changeling out in this chapter despite its very tempting title.
Still, while I should be excited that my suspicions of Grid being the changeling seem to be right, I have to stop here and wonder, because now all the attention is being cast on Grid by both detectives, not to mention Gloria pinning Grid down in the last chapter (though for no reason).
And now, I think Bluebird is messing things up. The protein question really should've been asked first, but now that Grid's been riled up from the failed roleplaying session, he might as well make up an answer under duress just to make Bluebird go away, changeling or not.
Of course, my reasons for Grid being the suspect haven't really changed: anything past the surface level (and his deal with Bon) has not been revealed at all while everyone else has said their piece (which Gloria has cemented for herself last chapter), much of the attention up to now has been on the other suspects, Grid's activities are different from the others as they're the most physical of them all, and a pony would perhaps be one of the easiest to blend into (save for the wings).
But what stumps is why the note's been crossed out. Again, could be the changeling feeling guilt about himself and, at the spur of the moment, wanted to reveal himself, then had second thoughts, which is alright. But it could also be someone else who's flying around, and there's no one else but Girard to do that... though him overhearing some of that vitriolic conversation would be a treat, and not in a good way.