17. What Happens Now?
“If I told you once I’ve told you like a dozen times, dude! That’s where we’ve always kept—”
Grid cut himself short, and Bluebird startled at the sound of three patient, plodding knocks on the door. Was that his mentor?
“Grid! Are you in there?” bleated a much less patient voice, one distinctly higher pitched than his mentor’s. It was Bon?
The earth pony glanced at the door, but otherwise didn’t angle his body away from the cadet, nor drop his agitated glare. He sucked in a breath, then spoke up:
“Yeah, what of it?”
“Something’s developed in the case,” a deeper voice replied. Pesco and Bon? “May we come in?”
Bluebird could only shift uncomfortably in his seat on the bed. He had no more clue than Grid why his mentor was here.
The earth pony cracked his neck and rose from his desk chair. “Sure.”
He cut a line to the entrance, flipped the lock, and opened the door to greet the two visitors. “Bon, Pesco. What’s up?” he said. He stepped aside and gestured to the cadet. “Me and Little Guns were just having a little chat.”
Bon’s eyes darted between Grid and his closet, while his mentor followed Grid’s cue and looked at the cadet.
“Is that so?” Pesco inquired.
“Oh, yeah, ahah. I was just, you know, doing like I said, coming back to Grid’s room to search it. Just got sidetracked by a little conversation is all!”
“Search my what…?” Grid murmured.
“Have you—” Bon leaned forward too quickly and bumped his antlers on the doorframe. He realigned himself, and then continued, barely above a whisper: “Have you… checked the closet yet?”
“Nope, was just about to get on that!” Bluebird sprang up from the bed onto his fours and trotted over to the closet door. “Best place to start, if maybe a little too obvious, eh?”
His mentor mumbled an agreement, his gaze focused nowhere in particular, a bored look about him. He ambled over to join his cadet. “Let’s see what all we find.”
“I guess this is what we’re doing now?” Grid said.
As he slid open the mirrored doors of the closet, Bluebird turned back to offer a reassuring smile to the young earth pony. “Don’t worry about it, Grid. This is just a precaution we’re taking, with everyone at the villa. I guess we’re looking for a bunch of coats and granola bars, or maybe a super secret book? Ahah.”
He gave a playful nudge to his mentor, who was already crouched down and rummaging through the bottom of a chest of drawers. Meanwhile, the young master hovered over his shoulder, surveilling his work intently.
“Um, Bon?” Bluebird started. “I’m thinking Grid might feel a little more comfortable if you left it to us to—”
Bon gasped and drew a step backward. Pesco, for his part, had ceased his rummaging, and now stared into the drawer with a frown on his face.
“Found it quickly, now didn’t we,” he remarked.
He brought himself to a stand, but not before lifting in his foreleg his peculiar finding from within the drawer: a jagged, spider-shaped piece of folded sheet metal with a long rope attached at one end to its center. The rope coiled to the floor as he presented his discovery to everyone in the room.
“The buck is that thing,” Grid said bitterly.
“Um, it looks like a grappling hook?” Bluebird said.
He looked to his mentor for confirmation, who returned a sage nod before tossing the thing aside onto the bed. “That’s its appearance all right.”
Something else caught Pesco’s eye within the drawer.
“Hm, but wait, there’s more,” he said. “Convenient.”
For his next trick, he reached back down into the drawer, then held up and dangled for the audience the next absurdity: A thick iron prybar. Despite its extensive wear, this one was recognizable as an actual tool, and not something jury-rigged together from scrap metal. It soon joined its place on the bed next to the grappling hook.
“That’s… that’s bizarre, to be sure, but what’s it doing here?” Bluebird asked.
Genuinely, innocently confused, Bluebird bounced his gaze between his mentor and the accused. The former yielded no information with his stoic glare, while the latter… Bluebird understood from the M’s on his forehead and the pursed lips that Grid was on the verge of saying something he might regret if asked the wrong question.
It was Bon who broke the silence to voice his theory: “My sister told me that the evidence in her room, it pointed toward the changeling having broken in through her window. Grid, or whomever we’re speaking to… are these the tools you used to accomplish that?”
It was the wrong question.
“The tools I used to what!?” He snapped a hoof at the metal spider. “I’ve never seen that thing before in my life! What even is that?”
“It’s like the detective and the cadet said, Grid,” Bon explained, with an unusual calmness, “it’s a grappling hook. And well, it would seem we’re not the only ones who saw you with it. There’s been an anonymous tip.”
“An anonymous tip?” Bluebird asked.
“Not so anonymous,” Pesco said. “Long story short, I received a communication from the changeling. Tattling on Grid was their message—or at least, their original message.”
“Can somebody explain, like, a single hay-fed thing that’s going on?” Grid demanded.
The cadet was thinking the same thing. Bon ignored Grid’s booming voice and cut back to Pesco:
“Now what precisely is that long story, Detective?” he pried. “You’ve told me it’s from the changeling several times now, but frankly, the only evidence I’ve seen indicates something quite to the contrary.”
“It’s not important,” Pesco stonewalled. He turned to Bluebird and twitched the corner of his lips in Bon’s direction. The cadet knew to recognize this as a call for backup in the conversation, but he had to admit… it sure sounded important.
A petulant spark flared in Bon’s eyes—Bluebird wasn’t given the time to think his mentor’s order over, anyway.
A flash of light blinded the room as Bon made a play with his telekinesis to yoink something from within the detective’s trench coat. A ream of blank paper spilled out onto the floor from inside the coat, and in the chaos Bon pranced into the far corner of the bedroom.
“D-dude!”
Bluebird’s reflexes had him tackling the young thieving master to the ground before he could think twice about it. The next thing he knew, he was listening to the whimpers and groans of the flattened deer beneath him as they both lay staring at the pilfered evidence.
It was… a note?
WHAT HAPPENS IF I COME ALONG PEACEFULLY?
Bluebird felt he understood why Bon had acted the way he did, now. He couldn’t say the same for his mentor.
He dismounted the young buck and helped him to his four hooves. Bon stumbled and swayed as he stood, still reeling from the takedown onto the bedroom’s hardwood paneling. His attention was divided between the contents of the note and Grid as his gaze swam back and forth between the two. His brow tightened as he tried to fight back a wince.
“What was that all about, dude?” Grid took an uncertain, confronting/comforting step forward. Pesco remained riveted in place, critically unamused.
Bluebird wasn’t feeling very amused, either. “Pesco,” he began softly, “is this… what it looks like?”
“Depends,” Pesco said. “I don’t know what it looks like to you.”
With a hopeful tremor: “Well, it looks like the best-case scenario, doesn’t it? Our work is done here, as soon as the changeling turns himself in?”
“Yes, it would be,” he said. “But, he hasn’t. So, it isn’t.”
“Ahah, well he’s offering to, isn’t he? He’s only asking because he doesn’t know what will happen if he does! I guess he just wants to be sure we’ll take it easy on him?”
“So we read the same thing: The changeling’s compliance is contingent on a plea deal.” Pesco shook his head. “Bluebird, that’s called negotiation. You know as well as I do that process is best handled at the station behind reinforced glass, only after the arrest is made. Besides, we have no authority to cut deals even if we wanted to.”
The cadet knew better than to contradict his mentor at length in front of potential suspects, but he didn’t care. “Come on, don’t you think this is a bit of a unique circumstance? We’ve never had to deal with something like this.”
“Exactly. So tell me, what in good faith can you promise the changeling if they give themself up? Remember, we’ve never dealt with something like this. Or do you intend to lie to them, just to reel them in? Honestly, Bluebird, that’s just cruel.”
What had gotten into him? It was like his mentor had been replaced by a changeling.
They each took a moment to cool down. For as heated as the conversation was making Bluebird, for as passionately as he believed in doing the right thing, he could sense his mentor was struggling with emotions that were just as strong. Bluebird had only a hint of what they were.
Pesco knelt to collect the blank papers strewn about his hooves. “‘Come along peacefully’ is distorting the facts, anyway. Are you forgetting about when the changeling attacked you?”
Neither of them had cooled down very much. “No, of course not. But that was just self-defense! Just a little roughhousing, ahah! My wing’s already feeling better.”
“You can offer the perp your legal counsel if you want, for whatever you think it’s worth. I consider our partnership an equal one, so I won’t stop you.” He stood back up, and walked over to snatch the note back from Bon. “But know that the real takeaway of this note lies beneath the scratched-out message: The changeling’s original plan was to frame Grid, before they decided that begging for mercy was more likely to fool us. Frankly, this whole discovery stinks of a frame job even without the note.”
“Y-yeah!” Grid stammered. Bluebird had almost forgotten the other two in the room.
“Ooonnn the contrary,” Bon followed, in a strange tone of voice, “… I think that remains to be seen, Detective. It’s still perfectly possible Grid is the changeling, isn’t it?”
Grid blinked, and leaned a few inches back from his friend.
“Oh?” Pesco taunted. “You were so eager to defend him last night.”
“Why, why, I’m only following the facts as they present themselves!” he protested. “We found a grappling hook and prybar in his closet, Detective, does that not count for anything? And… while I cannot fathom why the changeling as Grid would have thought to leave an anonymous tip about himself, surely… surely the very bizarreness of the maneuver could be the intention! To get himself cleared!”
Bluebird clocked a smirk on his mentor’s lips. “All I mean to say,” Pesco said slowly, “is I think this whole act reduces Grid’s probability greatly.”
Bon’s face twisted in on itself, cringing as though he had just bit into a lemon. It seemed that everyone in the room remembered: Zorn had already lost this same argument last night.
“Okay, fine,” Bon pivoted, “perhaps the note was written by someone who found out about the changeling—Grid—and this matter with the tools in the closet. Somehow. And, they wanted to report it anonymously. But then, for whatever reason, they started to feel sympathetic for the changeling, and so scribbled out the original message and wrote this new one. There.”
Bon struck a pose a bit like a math professor finishing a proof on the chalkboard.
“Truly, that sounds like Girard’s operating level of shyness, if I had to speculate.”
“Bon, just think about it,” Pesco said wearily, “why would a changeling need a grappling hook to reach Blanche’s bedroom window? They have wings of their own. They have the wings of any species in Equestria, in fact. And just look at the tool’s poor construction—it’s even the same sheet metal as on the lockpick. The changeling is up to its old tricks.”
Grid finally found the timing for an outburst. “And how about the fact I’m too bucking stupid to do any of the things I’m being accused of!” He tried to rub the skin off the bridge of his muzzle. “Honestly, I feel like I’ve been losing my mind the past twenty-four hours. That thing with the kitchen makes no sense, I’m forgetting to lock my bedroom door, and now this thing with the protein powder… and apparently, there’s just straight-up ninja gear in my closet!?”
Pesco’s expression skewed at Grid’s latest remarks. His expression skewed again, and then he walked across the room to Grid’s bedroom door. The cadet at first thought his mentor was simply walking out on the entire conversation (he looked about ready to), but soon saw he was checking the very same thing the cadet had checked earlier—Grid’s door lock.
The three watched the detective at work. He opened the door and went through the same simple motions the cadet had, at first: He flicked the locking knob, observing as the deadbolt sprang in and out of its housing. He appeared content to conclude as the cadet had that this particular component was functioning properly.
Next, he shut the door. He flicked the locking knob, then pulled on the door handle. After a slight budge, the door opened—somehow, the deadbolt had failed to engage.
Further diagnostics. He had another scrutinizing look at the deadbolt, the locking knob, and the latch in turn, before turning his attention to the doorjamb, or more precisely, the hole in the strike plate into which the deadbolt was supposed to enter. He leaned over and squinted, before running his hoof over it. A small ripping sound could be heard as he did so. Finally, Pesco stood back up, walking back to the three with his hoof extended.
“Reasonably sure I learned this one while I was still a delinquent,” he said. “The changeling thinks they’re a lot smarter than they really are, and that we’re a lot dumber: It was insulting enough that they thought we wouldn’t get the picture if they’d just left the prybar, but now they think they can get away with this?”
The cadet cocked his head, feeling a little dense. But, the change of angle as he did so had the light catch it just right: Bluebird made out on the end of Pesco’s outstretched hoof a scrap of transparent tape. It appeared the mystery of the malfunctioning door lock boiled down to a simple piece of plastic blocking the bolt from engaging.
Pesco continued, “That they have to resort to tricks like this proves that you were right last night, Bon, when you conjectured that the changeling can’t pick locks. But this proves just as well that you’re wrong tonight. Grid is almost certainly the victim of a frame job—and a poor one at that.”
The young deer had been staring down at his hooves for a while now. “I understand. I grant that yours may well be the more likely theory, in the end.”
Bon lifted his head, and slowly turned to face his earth pony friend. Grid’s expression still bore the marks of the slew of accusations hurled at him these last few minutes, not the least of which were from Bon himself. And yet, all that frustration evaporated once he saw the dampness in his accuser’s eyes.
“But, hypothetically, assuming the detective is mistaken, somehow,” Bon continued, his voice hitching. He trailed off.
“Yeah?” Grid said.
Bon swallowed. “If you really are the changeling, well, I should just like to say that as long as the real Grid is still out there, alive and well, then… all would be forgiven as soon as you return him. That’s all.”
“I… dude, I wish I knew what I could even—”
Bon didn’t give him the time to offer much of a response. Bon had said his piece: He turned on the spot to leave, sniffling as he went. He crossed the room, gripped the door with his telekinesis, and opened it just wide enough to slink away…
He saw fit to turn around one last time. The cadet expected him to offer one last glance or parting word either to Grid or to the Detective, but he did neither. Instead, he only gave the grappling hook on the bed a long, contemplative look.
And then, without a further word, he departed.
“I think we’re done here,” Pesco declared, with an eye to his cadet.
Were they? Now was as awkward a time as any, he figured. Bluebird sighed and gave a halfhearted “all right.”
Pesco claimed the prybar and the grappling hook as evidence, slinging the latter over his shoulder as he led the way to the door. Bluebird followed in his mentor’s wake, for lack of any better guide in this mess.
The cadet looked back over his shoulder. Grid was standing like somepony in front of a burned-down building.
“Hey, Grid?”
The earth pony (?) met his gaze.
“Just wanted to say, sorry for the misunderstanding… and, ahah, if it wasn’t a misunderstanding? Well, in that case…”
Bluebird recalled the changeling’s words, just before he was attacked (“attacked”) by the changeling.
“… no hard feelings over my wing. Okay?”
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Yeah, I had a feeling they were making Grid too obvious of a suspect last chapter. In retrospect, it would've been easy for someone to move the protein powder to a new location and sneak into grid's room if it wasn't locked. So while this doesn't completely disprove the idea that he's the changeling, it certainly reduces the probability as Pesco said. Also, neat trick with the tape in the door knob. Wonder if the author got that from the Watergate Scandal?
Let the confusion continue! Poor... everyone at this point. The stress is really getting to them all.
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Probably, but that only works on locks built into door knobs. It wouldn't work on an actual dead bolt lock.
Still insisting on that, hmm? Either he's just stubbornly sticking to his cover story despite it being shot with a critical hole...or he's telling the truth, and the protein shake normally is placed where he claims, and it was only moved to the new location after the fact by someone else (perhaps deliberately so to create this very scenario).
Or Grid's memory is just that bad, but this seems doubtful at this point.
Nah, we sorted out the matter of the book, but methinks Pesco is a bit touchy about that at the moment.
Yeeaaaah, about that...this really is feeling awfully convenient.
Too convenient.
I dunno, guys, but I'm still smelling a possible set-up here...
Ah yes, for forcing Blanche's window open earlier. Might even have flecks of her window frame's paint on it even--wouldn't that be awfully convenient too?
You know, random aside here, but it occurs to me that Grid's probably going to want to date Bon even less after this, regardless of how this goes, which would be...problematic...should Grid somehow prove innocent.
The point being here: sorry, Bon. You probably just shot yourself in the foot on that matter.
Might've been better if you had done as Bluebird suggested and backed off, let he and Pesco handle this.
And there it is.
...darn you, Pesco!
That makes this even worse! The changeling is directly asking if they can still surrender peacefully, and you are actively trying to deny it that chance, and on what grounds, even? You still don't even know what the 'ling's motives for being here even are!
Really, this is just you being...malicious...because you don't want to consider peaceful is even an option in this. And that's...wrong...on so many levels!
Seriously, that just lost you a notch of respect from me in all of this (and probably others in the room as well).
You at least lost Zorn's--I can see why he flatly refused to pander to you on this now. Really, this changes things, and makes whatever had been scribbled out...largely irrelevant in the long run.
(Particularly as I'm pretty sure now poor Grid's getting framed here. I'm guessing the changeling decided he needed a fall guy as a precaution, in case it came to it, but then couldn't bring themselves to commit to it)
He was testing the waters first to make sure it would actually change the outcomes any from what would happen if he didn't.
Given your reaction to it, Pesco, I can't say I blame him. Especially as you've kinda demonstrated now that surrendering peacefully will be denied as an opportunity. I hope you realize what that means then.
You've just made this harder for literally EVERYONE, yourself included.
Oh, details, details. I know exceptions can definitely be made by officers of the law in the heat of the moment if it'll mean a peaceful stand-down with no further harm done. This is really just you reaching for straws to try and justify your own anti-changeling bias (I mean, what else can I call it at this point?)
Well, if this goes the way I think it probably will...turn a blind eye to their existence and let them continue on their merry way, causing no further harm? The royal guard can't arrest what they can't find, and at the moment, they still know nothing about this development.
I mean, that option is still on the table. I don't know how likely it is, but I guess I can't TOTALLY rule it out at the moment.
Assuming we were to entertain that idea further though...if Pesco's a changeling, he's separate from the changeling that brought them here in the first place--the fact they are both in the same building here and now would seem to be just a coincidence.
I suppose that would also have the added implication of throwing doubt on whether Scolus is the changeling intruder at the villa or actually Pesco...because yes, it could make a difference.
So we're in agreement then...except for the "fooling" part.
Honestly, I suspect the changeling is only considering turning themselves in at all more to protect his friends, the others at the villa, than to protect himself, and has become worried that if he doesn't...this could all boil over and innocent creatures he probably sees as friends could be needlessly hurt, simply because he was there. And that's a possibility he can't live with.
Also, Grid's not the changeling. Just the unfortunate patsy who nearly got framed for it.
This is good for me, though, because it means we can go back to Camp Girard!
...actually, no, that's probably not something I should be celebrating right now. Apologies Girard.
I swear, Bon, if you get them to waste that serum on Grid just because you can't take his rejection to your advances...
Also, that would further hurt your chances with him, so...don't do this unless you're SURE it's worth doing, worth shattering Grid's own trust in you, whatever of that he might still have left.
See, that's what seals the deal about Grid not being the changeling...or at least not the changeling who left the note, but the fact nobody in-story has still considered the possibility that there could be two changelings suggests to me that...there's probably only just the one. And there always was.
I mean, maybe, but we've already eliminated just about everyone else as the changeling, so...we don't have a whole lot of candidates left who could fit that role.
I mean, obviously I'm not going to dispute that point.
Also they can climb up walls like Spiderman, so they don't even have to use wings.
Now that's a valid point...that could mean the changeling had never actually wanted anything in Zorn's room at all, but rather had planned to try and frame Zorn as well. But obviously that didn't pan out, so Grid was going to be the backup plan before their conscience got to the better to them and they decided to try changing tactics entirely.
Anyway...this all definitely settles that there IS a changeling still in the building. To that, there are a couple of theories.
One is that the changeling is deliberately messing with them in a "The Monsters are Due on Maple Street" sort of manner and has been from the start, even with the wing fragment, all in an attempt to try and create division and terror within the group, getting them to fight amongst themselves...although why and to what end I cannot yet see. In that scenario, Pesco may be right to doubt the claims about it asking if it could surrender peacefully, as that would likely just be another part of its attempt to cause mind games, to get the group to all turn on each other (in which case it seems to be working). This changeling may or may not be posing as one of the villa's inhabitants, or instead hiding somewhere nearby, only popping into the scene to cause mischief, disguised as the inhabitants at random, before popping back out of sight again (boiler room, perhaps? It'd be warm and secluded, after all).
Another theory is largely the same as before, and the changeling accidentally did something to clue in its presence here and is trying to turn suspicion off itself by turning the blame to someone else, but not only was that not working in the manner it'd hoped (due to the shoddiness of its jury-rigged attempts), it grew a conscience and is now thinking peacefully surrendering may be the better option to it and everybody else in the long run. In this case, the changeling is posing as one of the inhabitants, and has been for long enough to have formed some degree of attachment, and it just comes down to determining who it is, as before (as usual, I'm betting on Girard).
A third, new theory is effectively what Bon had suggested--there is a changeling hiding, but somecreature here knows about it and is trying to discreetly rat it out for whatever reason. The two changelings theory fits into this if that "somecreature" is in fact a changeling trying to smoke out another from hiding, in which case I'm thinking the second changeling isn't posing as anyone specific but is hidden somewhere nearby where it's thus far gone unnoticed (again, boiler room?). But it could also be just as easily be another non-changeling creature, probably one of the villa inhabitants, in which case we'd have two suspect parties from the group to locate and identify--whoever the changeling "prey" is, and whoever the "hunter" is. This one is interesting because there could be a couple of suspects as to who this non-'ling "hunter" could be, if this is the case, and my hunches would be: Gloria--because Gloria. Blanche--because she was the one who started the hunt, and asked to see the parchment evidence from Pesco to reexamine, possibly so to ensure she can properly replicate it, to say nothing of her own WIP novel fluent on changeling info she had to have gotten from somewhere (though I should stress that Scolus's "dreams" earlier made it clear there have been survivors and escapees of changeling abduction that lived to tell their tale, so that info still getting to the general public from that avenue is totally possible). And finally, Pesco--because of his clear anti-changeling bias...but I think this one the least likely of the three.
On Pesco, he could be a changeling, but I still greatly doubt it for a variety of reasons, many of which I have already cited before, so I won't repeat myself here. But if he is a changeling, then he can't be the changeling, or else there would have been no means to instigate this whole chain of events to begin with...which is a large part of why I don't think this is the case, as that would seem to bank too much on highly chance circumstances to work, enough to not be very believable.
Of the three theories, I'm leaning most towards the second one, if just because it's tried and true and the best formed. But the third does serve as my second choice (in which case I'd probably be eyeing Gloria as the would-be "hunter").
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I was going to say, I was pretty sure that for a real-life deadbolt, it'd either just punch through the tape anyway, or be obvious it couldn't lock properly to the user.
ADDENDUM: what if this is all not for nefarious intent, OR an attempt to protect themselves per se, but rather part of a deliberate test on the changeling's part to test to see if these creatures can even handle or react appropriately to the reveal they are the changeling, to see if doing so would be worth their while, or just opening themselves up to more harm and misery?
If so, then I'd assume by now it hasn't gone entirely as originally hoped.
ALSO: on the "Girard's the changeling" angle: remember that Girard's a fan of mystery novels...which would no doubt feature the sort of "clues" being left around the villa that are now being found. Girard may in fact be drawing inspiration from such novels in planning out his actions for all of this (or at least was starting out--may not be now).
Starting to lean toward both griffons, Gloria as a more competent handler. She tried to frame Grid, Girard intercepted the note and asked about surrender.
Welp. So much for that attempt at a peaceful resolution. Though we are dealing with a case of dramatic irony regarding the changeling's true intentions. Regarding the chapter title, I truly have no idea. Looking forward to finding out.
I will place my bet on Zorn being a zebra.
The jury's still not out on Grid, but admittedly, it is getting harder to justify his being a top suspect. I initially thought that a good rebuttal would be if Scolus had injured wings, but he was able to fly out of the house as Gloria, so it's rather troubling. If Bon is the changeling, though? Well, Pesco won't have a fun time being outsmarted by a "deer" who showcased his abilities and still somehow got away. We still don't know much about what ails Grid other than the present changeling situation and some vague directions from Bon.
As it stands, I don't want to be distracted too much by the dramatically good writing, because I realize that that may be affecting my judgment. Or at least it's trying to. The parting words of Bon and Bluebird felt that way, and that intrusive "(?)"... I won't easily be swayed! Still, though, I do wonder if Grid is getting the memo from Bon...
And Zorn's words still keep ringing true, especially since it was two ponies (and a deer) versus another pony this chapter: