Follow the Worms

by argomiam

4 – Lights, Cameras…

April 6th, 1023

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Spectral Line gathered by the window, clutching the blinds with her hooves. She’d never seen anything like it – not since she moved here, anyway. She was supposed to get away from it all. She was supposed to be able to work in peace here.

But now the sounds echoed through the walls. It reverberated through the very building. Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

It was just like the changelings all over again. Somehow worse.

She peered out her thin pane of glass, the only outside view within her study.

There must have been a thousand. At least.

The noise was only getting louder as it grew closer, and the source of the noise finally revealed itself as it drew near, into the small stretch of street she could view from her first-floor window.

There were banners, flags for… something. She had heard of things like this happening around Bales, but her neighbourhood was out of the way. When she’d first moved in, she was told it was a very quiet area, that there was no trouble.

That wasn’t what she was seeing outside.

Rows of ponies, eight in each line, passed through the street. Changeling police stood to the side, and now it was clear what for. She saw a few of her neighbours out there, some curious about the commotion, others jeering loudly. She could swear she heard Book Smart across the street, a usually timid and scholarly unicorn whom she’d worked with a fair bit, yelling for them to ‘rot in Tartarus’.

But obviously, the marching ponies did not care for any jeers. They marched right through, more and more black-clad ponies appearing as the columns slowly spread across her street.

She’d heard of the group before. As a mare of science, she wasn’t too up-to-date with the political scene – not that there had been much of one since the occupation, more just an attitude of ‘you get what you’re given’ that the changelings enforced wherever they went. This group had come up in a few newspapers she read, and every time they had been referred to as madponies, just another miserable band of the angry. They weren’t the first like it, and she highly doubted they would be the last.

So why were they here, in such numbers?

She rushed over to turn off all the lights she had left on in her house, before finally returning to the window, noticing just how fast they seemed to be progressing. Her hooves clung uncomfortably to the blinds, morbid curiosity battling with a sense of self-preservation in her mind for whether or not she’d continue to watch.

These were reprehensible ponies – that was one thing she knew about them. She saw windows opening across the street, neighbours leaning out the window to check out the noise. Nervously, she opened her own window as well, listening in to the booming voice out in the distance that was rallying them.

“We’ll be meeting up at around twelve o’clock, where it’s quite possible that we may encounter some resistance by the way that we go!”

A figure in a car, holding onto a loudspeaker, was shouting in the midst of the columns. They were dressed differently from the rest, seemingly more important. Another stallion sat aside from them, in similar attire but notably less dressed than his apparent superior. Both of them had to be little more than early thirties earth ponies. It was jarring to see such strange imagery by a pony’s own will.

A small crowd of unicorns had formed across the pavements that changeling police officers eyed suspiciously, seemingly waiting for something to happen. They were joined by more ponies – her own neighbours – that held onto their door frames in abject concern.

She closed her window, sighing heavily. She wasn’t going to let them stomp across her neighbourhood without showing her inhospitality.

She made her way to her door, opening it slightly – just enough to stand outside of, but little enough that she could slip back inside. She could almost taste the tension in the air. As the first of these rows of ponies marched on, she could see the eyes some of them were giving her. Violent, hateful looks. A few of her neighbours had already disappeared inside, drawing their curtains.

She was startled by a sudden commotion to her left. A unicorn was shouting. She closed her door behind her, slowly trotting out onto the street to get a better look for what was going on.

“GO HOME! WE HAVE NO LOVE FOR FASCISTS HERE!” They screamed at the march, to no effect other than some turned heads. A changeling officer had walked over, pushing them away from the march and standing in between.

“Spectral!” A voice shouted. She turned, seeing her next-door neighbour approaching with a look of horror on her face, sifting through the small crowd.

“What’s going on?” She asked, hurrying over to meet her.

“Spectral, dear, what are you doing?! Get back inside!” Easy Bake shooed her along, and she instinctively backed up.

“What’s going on? Isn’t this just a regular march? Aren’t these just collaborators?” She asked, trying to get at least some answers out of this whole situation.

She heard more shouting, then the rattle of papers across the floor. The unicorn from before had confronted one of the members of the march, scattering their campaign posters across the floor. She’d only watched a tiny bit of the situation unfold, but she saw an earth pony reeling their hoof back, knocking the unicorn to the floor. More of the fascists seemed to break off, kicking the unicorn whilst they were down, some of her neighbours trying to help save the poor pony from a beating. A changeling blew their whistle, running over and dragging the unicorn away. She felt her blood run cold as one of the posters blew over to her.

What could inspire such cruelty? She looked again to her neighbour, who was beginning to push her back inside. Now she had a lot more reason to follow along, inviting her neighbour in as well. Reluctantly, she had agreed, and the two stood by the window again.

Their street was a quiet one. A few shops lined the road, but for the most part, it was just the same stretch of terraced stone brick housing. It didn’t lead onto any busy roads, didn’t have a town hall, nothing. She couldn’t fathom why such a group would come down here.

“Damn thugs!” Easy spat. “Always looking for a fight! Bet they’re here since we’re all unicorns. Pathetic. It’s like every one of them forgot everything the princesses did for them.”

But she had no words. All across her window sprawled a march of hundreds of ponies, all in perfect organisation. A car was slowly trundling across their view, giving them a better view of the orchestrator of it all. A pale, weedy stallion dressed in black, cold eyes hidden behind dark glasses. He wasn’t shouting anymore, just clearly spectating his clockwork-like army. He held a few papers in his hands, and the stallion beside him passed more as they went, clearly more than he had any care for.

She noticed him drop a couple of sheets, turning and trying to grab at them before they were carried away in a showy swirl by the wind.

She could’ve sworn he looked straight at her. She could’ve sworn she really saw that hollowness in his gaze. Only for a brief moment, but it felt like eternity. She could feel his glare burn into her, like he was somehow disgusted by her, a pony he had never met.

Another fight broke out. Book Smart, a pony Spectral had only praises to sing about, had clearly antagonised their guests a little too much. A few broke out of line. It looked more like they were jumping on him than any fight – at least in a brawl he’d have a chance. Just like before, the same thing ”justice” was dealt by the police’s hand again. Another changeling broke it up, and dragged away the unicorn. More spectators had involved themselves, throwing hooves, rocks, or whatever at the people responsible. It was horrific. It just kept snowballing.

“Oh! Oh, what have they done to him?!” She could see her neighbour briefly from her window. The fight lasted no more than thirty seconds – enough delay from the officer for it to be fairly severe. They were beaten, bruised and blood ran down their nose, their left eye shut tight in pain. From her brief glimpse between marching ponies, she could see a leg twisted unnaturally, a clear product of those heavy boots they stomped around in. Frightened ponies still lined the sides of the street, watching it all unfold before their eyes.

But by the end of these columns, she saw a strange sight. Whilst those at the front had been carrying drums and banners, these at the back seemed to be enforcers of sorts. They carried weapons – real weapons. They had better uniforms, they had sterner looks on their faces. They were only a little bit further than Spectral’s door before suddenly they just… broke from the march.

There were about twenty of them. Each followed the most senior of the group, pushing past any in the crowds that had accumulated, into a shop. Chips of painted wood flew into the street as they forced their entry, and they all seemed to pile into what she had only known as her local grocer’s.

She didn’t see the rest. She just heard the crowds. The two of them cowered behind the blinds, absolutely terrified for what was about to come. There was maybe five minutes of quiet, the marching more distant now. It wasn’t long before the shouting picked up. Then screaming.

It felt like it had all gone mad again.

Spectral finally mustered the courage to look through the blinds, seeing ponies galloping full speed away from the scene. She wasn’t sure what was going on. She opened the window. She smelled smoke.

It was on fire. It was actually on fire. They’d set it on fire.

She spotted a unicorn dashing away, in a mad sprint away from the grocers. They looked horrified. Sheer terror was written all over their face. But nopony helped. They carried a satchel with them, clearly stuffed full in a hurry.

She didn’t get much more time to consider who they were.

CRACK.

I think I heard a shot. I think I heard a shot.

The unicorn’s legs buckled. They fell face-first onto the cold macadam street.

Spectral didn’t see the shooter. She knew the changelings had guns, but it could’ve just as easily been one of these fascists. She didn’t care.

She screamed, the only thing she could do, drawing the blinds and getting down. The window was open, but she wasn’t taking the chance. There were shouts coming from outside. It all melded together in some horrific cacophony, getting louder and louder.

She just needed it to stop.

Easy sat herself down on a sofa, sobbing quietly. Spectral only shivered, cowered in her corner. Terrified, and yet surrounded by everything she ever knew. She’d just seen a pony gunned down right outside her home. She let out a rattled breath. Right outside her home.

She could’ve known them.

“I’m… I’m so sorry about this, Spectral. Thank you for inviting me in.” She whimpered, speaking between choked sobs.

“...it’s alright, Easy.” She tried her best to muster her most understanding voice, embracing a pillow just to try to put her mind off her shaking hooves. It could’ve been her house. It could’ve been her.

Oh, that poor soul. That poor, poor soul.

“Stars…” She mumbled, sniffling. “Everything’s gone right to hell. And when you finally think things couldn’t get any worse…” She covered her face with her hooves. Spectral offered her the pillow she’d clung onto, the only kindness she was able to do at this moment.

“It’s us now! We’re the ones killing each other for them! Damn it all, damn it all… the changelings have won. The changelings have won again, Spectral...” She mumbled weakly, her pillow already wet with tears. It was crushing to see Easy like this. Her neighbour had always been a rock in the community. She always had hopes, always had a smile.

And now she was here sobbing on her sofa. Finally admitting defeat, after ten long years of resisting it with everything.

Spectral was quiet, reflecting on everything that had been. It had all gone by a long time ago now. When she was a filly, the world seemed so much brighter. The grass was greener, the tastes were sweeter then. But she’d lived almost half her life under the changelings now.

The worst of times.

Of all the times she could have been born, it was now.

Easy Bake sniffled again, drying her eyes with a handkerchief. She apologised profusely under her breath, finally finding the air to speak.

“They’ve taught us to hate each other.”

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Spectral slept poorly. Her dreams were constantly invaded by shadowy figures marching. Whether it was the changelings, these new ponies, or both, she was unsure. They talked like ponies, but burnt things down just like the Heer. She usually took solace in the fact that, maybe, somewhere out there, Luna was watching over her in her subconscious, patrolling her dreams even from so very far away. There would be no relief tonight.

This morning, she woke knowing that there was no Princess to shepherd her anymore. There were no messiahs waiting for just the moment to finally bring the better days back.

They were in utter darkness.

Nearly ten years of occupation, but it had never truly set in until now. Things weren’t getting better. Easy’s words struck deep within her, unsettling her to no end.

They’d taught us to hate each other.

Despair was the only word to describe it. Nothing would ever be the same, and it had dawned on her just as she ate her breakfast. Nothing would ever be the same. Forever onwards, they would only live in a post-war world. She, her foals – if she even wanted to have any in this bitter world – would never know Equestria. Even if it somehow returned, it would only be a post-occupation Equestria.

Her home. Wounded beyond healing.

But time was not kind to her. It did not give her time to grieve a world she lost. She went about her day like usual. She simply couldn’t afford to let something like this uproot her life, after all. But, as she left her house for her usual walk to work, she saw glass across the floor, smashed out of the panel that once held it in jagged pieces. A changeling stood by the smashed-up doorway of the burnt-out building, smoking a cigarette casually. Like nothing had even happened. She wondered if she could ask about it – what a grocer had done to deserve such a fate. The thought was resigned to the back of her mind, as she gave one sad glance to the changeling at the door. Maybe it wasn’t worth asking. Maybe they had done something bad. She could only hope for it, anyway – but hope ran dry for her these days.

She felt something against her hooves. Looking down, there was a small piece of paper swirling in the wind down the quiet street, ending up by her. It was fairly fresh. She picked the paper up and examined it. It wasn’t like the other posters they’d put up around here. It seemed to be one-of-a-kind, as far as she could tell. As her eyes trailed down the page, they opened wide.

She looked to the changeling smoking. His wings fluttered idly, his Heer cap resting on top of his head lazily.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE EQUESTRIA RULE AGAIN?

WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEND THE CHANGELING MENACE HOME AGAIN?

ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS FOLLOW THE WORMS.

Author's Note:

apologies if it’s a little messy. been very tired and i’ve got exams going on
hope you all enjoy regardless :D