Cowcolts and Changelings

by Grazy Polomare

The Great Appleloosan Train Robbery

Morning was a rather quiet affair with tea and biscuits, if you didn't mind the constant munching of a certain changeling. With a private car, the two changelings could wander about without their forms, since the train staff didn't seem to mind giving passage to the former invaders. Morpheus was dipping crumpet after crumpet until...well...there weren't that many crumpets to dip anymore. As for Reflect, he didn't even touch his plate. Instead his eyes kept glancing every so often at the rather arid landscape before him.

Braeburn took notice of this and chuckled, "Why Ah' thought you two were use to desert and sun."

"I suppose," Morpheus mused, "but well...I just can't believe we're going back."

Braeburn was right to assume they had seen this before.

In fact, it was the striking similarity that made both changelings shudder. The same sand-stone cliffs and formations dotted the barren landscape, where lone tumbleweeds rolled past. Here and there, cactus plants took hold, their stubborn nature being the only thread keeping them alive. And beyond that, large, orange mountains that seemed to cause a tear in the yellow sky.

As the train ride continued, Reflect remained as stoic as ever, with Braeburn occasionally tugging at his vest as if he was nervous. Morpheus didn't blame the stallion, for he too felt a nagging sensation in the back of his cranium. It was probably best to start a subject to lighten the mood.

"I don't get it," Morpheus said, grabbing Reflect's untouched plate before pouring all the biscuits in his cup, "I was under the impression that, with all things considered, you were already on peace arrangements with the changelings."

Braeburn gave a half-hearted chuckle, sipping his own cup before getting up and checking the brown door that separated passenger cars. After double-checking the lock he went back to the table. "Well Morphy, Forge has tried, but well...he and Sheriff Silverstar don't see eye to eye."

"Wah d' u' men?" Morpheus asked, his mouth stuffed with the mused remains of the partie's eclairs. Braeburn had to hand it to the changeling for having an appetite that rivaled his cousin's and then some. Morpheus was an absolute slob, his plate literally buried under crumbs and soggy napkins. It was a good thing he had arranged for the cook to bring all their meals inside.

"Well," Braeburn rubbed his neck, " Ah' suppose it's because of Forge's reputation and all. Bein' a changeling and a bounty hunter ain't really the best way to establish negotiations after all.."

"What's wrong with that?" Reflect spoke up, causing Braeburn to jolt in his seat.

None the less, he proceeded to elaborate. "Well...we here at Appleloosa have a low tolerance for troublemakers. Bounty hunters, outlaws, snake oil merchants, and well...former enemies of Equestria."

Reflect's eyes narrowed at the veiled insult. The changeling got up and crawled into his upper bunk, where he shielded himself with the cotton blanket. Morpheus knew Reflect for his short temper, but he also knew that sometimes the best way to encourage Reflect was not to tell him he was going to be met with animosity the moment he stepped down the train.

Braeburn gloomily stared at his cup, his hoof playing with the saucer. Morpheus had to admit he didn't look as jolly without a hat, but as Braeburn said it, a hat didn't have any use in a train.

More red and orange boulders passed by as the train continued down the desert. The world of Equestria, now that Morpheus had time to observe, did seem to have a large reach. Instead of rolling green hills and colorful towns, he saw the same monotonus desert that had plagued him for the majority of his hatchling years. Earlier, the train conductor had described Ponyville as at the center of a large valley that stretched up to the mountains. This natural barrier protected Equestria's borders from the harsh elements beyond. But with expansion on the rise, Equestria had been trying to go beyond it's natural wall and, as a result, had run into some undesirable obstacles.

"Ah' got it!" Braeburn exclaimed, "let's all try to get to know each other!"

Reflect didn't respond, the bundle of blankets just as motionless as it was before. Turning to Morpheus, Braeburn seemed to plead with him. Deciding that the stallion did deserve at least a bit of education on changeling structure, Morpheus sighed and nodded in agreement.

The stallion grinned, "That's the spirit Morphy! Now why don't ya' tell us about yer' job?"

"I work as the Commander of our Queen's own royal guard!" Morpheus had stated this in such an affluent accent that Braeburn had to stifle a giggle.

"Please continue!"

"Continue?" Morpheus rubbed his head, "I don't-"

"Well surely ya' ought to have more to say then just a fancy job title!"

It was true that Morpheus had much more to say then a fancy job title. He had loads and loads of information to say. However, some of it would be rated for a much older audience, so he chose his topics carefully.

"Well, I guess I could talk about the changelings in my command!"

"Sure!" Braeburn nodded his head, eager to hear more.

"Well, Who's on first shift, Someone's on second shift, and Don't Know is on third."

Braeburn's grin dissolved into confusion, "Uh, hold on a sec, ya' don't know who has which shift?"

Now it was Morpheus' turn to cast a perplexed look, "Of course I do you fool! Who's on first!"

Braeburn didn't look convinced, his eyes darting from the window back to Morpheus, as if the answer was outside. "Are you sure Morphy? I don't mean to be rude and all but it looks like ya' don't know who's on any shift."

"I do know!" Morpheus stood up, his eyes glaring, " Someone's on second and Who's on first!"

Braeburn gave an irritated scowl. Perhaps there was a reason this Queen had been so eager to toss the changeling out. He didn't even know his own toop's names! Meanwhile, Morpheus was having difficulty understanding how this stubborn stallion didn't know the changelings Who, Someone, and Don't Know Scat, although perhaps he should have used his full name instead.

"Listen," Morpheus explained, "Who has first shift! The first shift, not the second shift, cause that belongs to Someone, and as for third, Don't Know Scat has it."

"Don't know scat?" Braeburn stood, his voice rising, "Well ya' sure don't sound sure!"

"I am sure it's Don't Know Scat!"

"Ya' don't know scat!"

"NO! The changeling Don't Know Scat!"

Reflect suddenly rose from the covers, looking incredulously at both of them. "Who said I don't know scat? "

Morpheus gave a startled look at his companion, "When did Who ever say that about you?" Morpheus would have to talk to Who later about his behavior if he was disrespecting generals now.

"What do you mean who?" Reflect admonished, "I mean what you just said!"

"About Don't Know Scat?"

"YES!" Reflect fell back into his bed, as if he had just finished teaching one letter to a squirrel. Honestly, he wondered why Morpheus had idiot moments like this.

"Well I was talking about the guards: Someone, Who, Don't Know Scat-"

"Which guard doesn't know scat?" Braeburn rubbed his hoof, as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle with too many pieces, "Ah' mean, don't ya' think it's mean if you say someone who don't know scat?"

"Not really," Morpheus shrugged indifferently. "I mean there may be some grammar error in there, but I don't feel bad about it."

Braeburn was taken aback, falling onto his chair once more in astonishment at the changeling's apparently cruel demeanor. Morpheus had no respect for those in his command, which made Braeburn wonder how he got the job in the first place.

"Well," Morpheus thought for a second, "I guess Someone does slack off, although with Who is pretty much a given."

"Really," Braeburn asked, "who?"

"Yeah," Morpheus sat down, gulping another cup of tea before reaching for the kettle, "Of course Who would slack off."

"But who?"

"Well..." Morpheus took another gulp of tea, "Who would."

"That's what Ah'm asking, which one of yer changelings would slack off!"

"There is Someone," Morpheus replied irritably, "definitely Someone."

"NO!" Braeburn facehoofed himself, "Which one of your guards would slack off?"

"Someone and Who!" Morpheus answered in an exasperated tone, wondering why this was so difficult for Braeburn to understand. It was clear as daylight that Someone always slacked off on duty, and it usually was with Who, but Zero was one of the few changelings who took it seriously.

"How 'bout this," Braeburn put his hoof down, eyeing Morpheus and speaking very slowly, "which guard wouldn't slack off?"

Morpheus was now regretting ever talking about his life. Clearly, the life of a changeling was too complex for the equine synapses to comprehend. He would give a seminar in Appleloosa, and perhaps find a more refined audience to lecture to.

"That's easy, Zero."

"Really now," Braeburn narrowed his eyes in disbelief, "so no changeling takes the job seriously?"

"No, I have Zero taking the job seriously."

"So no one?"

"No," Morpheus sighed, "zero."

"So I'm right, it's no one!"

"No, it's Zero!"

"No one is Zero!"

"Zero isn't no one!"

"Really," Braeburn replied sarcastically, "well tell me, what is zero related to then?"

Morpheus thought about this for a second. Zero's closest brother was surprisingly Don't Know Scat. Those two always did stuff together, and were a perfect target for his pranks. He shrugged, "I'd say Don't Know Scat."

Braeburn slammed his head on the table, giving up on the changeling before him. As if on cue, a yellow colt opened the door with a cart filled with fresh daisy sandwiches, which he laid carefully on the parlor table while clearing the small side table they had used for breakfast. Taking up his book, and two daisy sandwiches, he crawled into his lower bunk, avoiding the scowl plastered on Reflect's face.

"I honestly don't know what I did wrong back there. Morpheus complained in the hive chat, taking a bite out of one the sandwiches.

"You were playing retard Morphy! Braeburn just wanted to know who was under your command and you kept giving him the-"

"I said it was Who, Don't Know Scat, and Someone!"

"That's not-"

"You don't know those three?"

A bright-green snake's head slithered down to gaze at the changeling, as if he had just got the punch line to one of the most inane jokes in the history of Equestria. "You're kidding? We have a changeling called Who, Don't Know Scat, and Someone?"

"We ran out of names," Morpheus munched vigorously on the cooked greens, forcing it down his throat, "So yeah, our Queen named three changelings Someone, Don't Know Scat, and Who."

"Why didn't you say that?" the snake hissed.

"Cause I thought he was playing stupid with me! You know, when you ask what's 13x7 and someone says 28!"

The snake rolled its eyes and slowly curved back out of sight. Morpheus shrugged and began to leaf through the pages of his Daring Do novel,

Daring Do and the Mystery of the McHoofin Motherload

. Coincidently, or not, the setting was in the southwest, where Daring Do had teamed up with a rag-tag group of settlers to obtain stolen treasure from a gold rush long ago. It wasn't the best novel, but it was definitely something to do rather then explain his job again to Braeburn, who was still passed out on the table.

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The western sun beat down on Daring's back, causing her to sweat a tiny puddle that evaporated in the scorching sands of the desert. The dunes seemed endless, and it seemed she would plop dead at any moment to wither away. However, as if by magic, the tiny hamlet of wooden shacks materialized out of the arid landscape, causing Daring Do to gasp.

The tiny village seemed to be ill-suited for these extreme conditions, the shelters composed of rickety wooden doors and houses that had sand both in and out. The ponies themselves didn't seem to fare any better, their faces haggard and wrinkled, with bags under their eyes for working long hours in the mines. However, Daring continued to trudge onward, ignoring her parched throat. Even the winds themselves were rough, the sand particles piercing her fur as a lone tumbleweed rolled past, onward towards wherever fate had intended.

"Fate has intended me to be here for some reason, Daring thought absently, I mean why would the Steel Co. write for me and not Detective Colt Yelps? Ahead of her, standing on the porch, was a grey stallion with a shaggy, long beard and piercing green eyes. The beard itself appeared brown, although she couldn't tell for sure due to the amount of stains that had never been properly washed off. The pony didn't seemed to care, and held out his hoof expectantly.

Taking it, Daring felt the grime and grease slide on her own dusty hoof. "Uh-a pleasure to meet you-"

"Tinsel," the stallion answered, revealing a toothy smile, "the name's Tinsel, as ya' can see by this here cutie mark."

He turned around so that Daring could get a full look at the mark, where a light brown stain covered the bright colored, floral decor that would have been his cutie mark. She looked back at Tinsel to see if he had noticed her look of disgust. However, Tinsel, was occupied, his eyes staring at Daring's flank.

Elicting an irritated blush, she pulled back, "Excuse me-"

"Yer' Cutie Mark!" Tinsel exclaimed, moving forward to have a better look, "Why, a compass? Fer' a professor at Manehattan Ah' would think-"

"Of something pertaining to some scholarly achievement?" Daring finished, chiding herself for assuming the stallion's intentions."Well I suppose you'd be right in that it certainly is odd, but I would argue that it does fit my occupation of choice."

Tinsel was waiting for Daring to continue, clearly more curious about his new visitor then the reason he had brought her here in the first place. "Well...I won't go into details on how I got it, but the compass is a symbol of our exploration of both the physical realm and the mental realm...so to speak. My cutie mark shows me both as an intellectual in the pursuit of knowledge, but an avid explorer who will journey anywhere to find answers. However, it appears we aren't embarking in the pursuit of long lost temples, but rather the pursuit of one's own wealth."

"Well," Tinsel sighed, "Yeah, ya' could say that. Ah' know the ol' Steel Company called ya' to help us, but well, the truth is most of these folks are moving out. They're tired of the mine, and well...really the only thing that was keeping us going was that-"

"Colonel McHoofin's Motherload?"

"Yeah," Tinsel cried out, "that's the one! That old chest of gold we found!"

"Well," Daring Do mused, "normally this would be a matter for the Sheriff no?"

Tinsel seemed to suddenly be attracted to the ground, no longer making eye-contact with the mare. "The Sheriff Blue Horn? The Steel Co. tried and well...he's exhausted all assets. He was going to meet us here, but...Ah' don't see 'im. Ah' reckon he must have run into some business. But don't worry, Ah' heard ya' were the type to know a lot about this kind of treasure."

Daring once again felt foolish for coming here, "I don't know what you've heard but-"

"Here," he shoved a piece of parchment, "Ah' reckon there is somethin' to be made out of this 'ere clue. It said that we ought to seek the sanctuary that bears that image drawn there."

"Clue?" Daring unraveled the crumpled piece of paper, examining the contents. The paper was mostly blank, save for a single line of barely legible hoof-written words and...a very familar symbol.

"Sweet Celestia!" The symbol held the familar royal crest of the two sisters, light and day, to signify Celestia's plea for balance despite her own sister's banishment. Below the royal crest were two golden spears intertwined with one another, with a golden laurel snaking around them in an X.

"What?" Tinsel turned to look at the paper.

Daring Do shook herself out of her momentary daze."How much do you know about Equestrian military?"

Tinsel rubbed an oily hoof over his mane, "Not much, Ah' know Celestia's Guard and then we have the Sheriff Ah' guess."

"Have you ever heard of the Equestrian Cavalry Force?"

Tinsel shook his head wearily, "Ah' can't say Ah' remember too clearly about that particular branch. Usually, Ah' just hear about the Royal Guard and such."

"Well," Daring explained, "this symbol belongs to the Equestrian Cavalry Force, a group of Royal Guards that assisted in conquering the West as they say. When the pegasi were fighting the griffins, these fellas were fightin the buffalo, coyotes, quarry eels, jackalopes, dragons, and well...outlaws even. They were lead by an officer known as Colonel McHoofin, a famous earth pony whose picture is commonly seen on train cars today."

"Really now," Tinsel rubbed his hoof, "Why is that?"

"McHoofin was known for stationing guards on several trains when the railroad was built. It was a safety measure to prevent train robberies, but as time went on, the need for protection became more and more obsolete. However, some trains still keep a portait of McHoofin as a sort of thank you for his focus on the railroad industry. As it turns out, however, McHoofin was protecting much more then that."

"The gold!" Tinsel exclaimed.

"Exactly" Daring smiled, congratulating her temporary pupil, "at the time, very few banks wanted to establish themselves in the west, fearing robbery. So, most ponies in the west had to store their gold in one of two places: their own mattress or a bank in Canterlot."

"Ah'm guessing the mattress wasn't the most ideal of options." Tinsel commented.

Daring nodded, "Indeed, with outlaws like Calamity Mane and Fizzy the Kid, the gold that was found had to be safe-guarded. Unlike Appleloosa, who had settled purely for agricultural purposes, settlements like Dodge Junction were built around the gold mines before they moved to farming. The vast array of gems and precious metal were abundant, and as one settler put it, a sea of opportunity. But the sea was treacherous, and as such, Celestia enforced military protection."

Tinsel "But how does this connect back to the gold that McHoofin was stashing?"

"Well," Daring continued, "in order for settlers to get the gold to the Canterlot bank, they needed to give 1/3 of their loot to McHoofin, who would then ensure the safety of the treasure all the way back to the capital."

Tinsel scowled,"Why that greedy-"

"Don't be so quick to judge, Tinsel," Daring warned, "many settlers saw this as a small price to pay to ensure their treasure's safety with Celestia's finest. And Colonel McHoofin didn't spend it all lavishing on himself. Using the gold, he began to build forts and outposts. He replaced his unit's armor, which acted as natural ovens in the sun, for broad-rimmed hats and neckties that were colored blue and gold after the Royal Guard. In fact, this symbol here was designed by McHoofin' himself!"

Tinsel still looked impressed. "So that means whoever hid the chest-"

"A sanctuary where the this symbol would have been common," Daring interjected, a small lightbulb popping in her head, "That's it! The abandoned fort must be where the gold is!"

Tinsel gave another toothy grin, "Well I'll be Miss Do, ya' sure know yer' history!"

Daring only rolled her eyes, "Of course I know my history! It's my job you know."

The two shared in a quick laugh when suddenly, the rumble of hooves caused both to stop. Standing in front of the square, was a blue-colored stallion with a bushy pearl white moustache and hat, his brown eyes scanning the area like it was filled with vermin.

Tinsel seemed to stiffen at the sight before whispering to Daring, "That's Sheriff Blue Horn, miss Daring."

As if he had overheard the comment, the sheriff turned to glare at Daring, "Well I'll be if it isn't-"

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"-Dinner!" Braeburn shouted, his enthusiasm apparently returning as the gold colt brought in a steaming tray of hay fries. Morpheus put his book down, his snout taking in the aroma of fresh food. Rushing up to the table, he noticed that Reflect and Braeburn were already seated, discussing something about how the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Sure enough, outside was dark and stormy, the occasional flash of thunder indicating that the rain was coming. Surprisingly, every now and then, occasional storms would brew in the west, but not as frequently as Ponyville. It was a wonder to Morpheus to see exactly why of all days a storm decided to show up now.

"So," Braeburn began, "Reflect here said ya' actually have four changelings called Someone, Don't Know Scat, Zero, and Who?"

Morpheus gulped a mug of juice before answering, "Yep! The hive can do that to some changelings. We just get use to it or call them by their numbers."

"Ah' see," Braeburn grinned, "Sorry about thinkin' ya' were playin' with me!"

Morpheus continued to eat, but gave a nod at Braeburn who turned to Reflect. "So Reflect, Ah' saw you and Morphy there enjoyin' them books we gave y'all."

Reflect turned a dark red, which caused Morpheus to almost choke on his fries in laughter. Reflect had been known for calling Morpheus a queer for liking strange books like Daring Do, but the fact he had been caught reading a tale on western legends gave Morphy an edge the next time his friend felt like griping.

"Indeed," Morpheus swallowed, "I must say, it's interesting so far what's happened. Although I always though the novel was a little over-hyped by the community."

"Over-hyped?" Braeburn asked bewildered, "Don't ya' know that was based on a true story?"

Morpheus spewed the drink he was currently enjoying, "What!?"

Braeburn rolled his eyes at the changeling's manners, "Yeah, the whole part on Colonel McHoofin was real! A legend he was! In fact, Ah' think we have a picture of him right over there!"

Sure enough, the ornate picture frame at the end of the train car showed a very imposing face of an earth pony. His snout was squared, with a longer bottom jaw and a grey moustache to accompany it. His grey mane was tied back with a blue bow as his imposing blue eyes stared off into the distance at a target they could not see. As for his attire, he was well-dressed, his shirt covered with gold medals.

"Wow," Morpheus stared in awe, "he must have been pretty wealthy to have a painting made for every train car."

"He kinda looks like your alternate form Morphy," Reflect commented thoughtfully.

Upon closer examination, Morpheus did see some familar traits between his flutterpony form and the colonel in question. "I suppose, but I don't think I could bury long lost treasure. I'd have spent it!"

Braeburn gave a slight chuckle, "And that there is where the truth ends Morphy. Ya' see, McHoofin's Motherload really is just a myth. In reality, the colonel did spend it all on himself or his soldiers. When Celestia pulled them out of the west, McHoof just retired to a quiet life in the woods, givin' away all his valuables to a museum or somethin'."

"But that's not what other ponies say," Reflect challenged, raising his book in the air, "they say that during the gold rush, a settler came across an ancient temple ruin in the mountains. He took the artifact and tried to give it to McHoofin. A mask they say it was, composed of solid gold. Well, you can call me a queer but if that doesn't sound weird there's more. The mask never made it to Canterlot. Apparently it got lost in transit as they say. McHoofin' apologized and gave some bits for the settler's trouble, but to this day, some theorize that the Colonel kept it for himself. Or that he saw the mask's potential for evil and hid it!"

"That's poppycock," Morpheus waved his hoof, "Anyone with half a brain would have taken it to their leader first. To make sure it was dangerous before hiding it in the middle of the desert."

"Well," Reflect argued, "McHoofin had a habit they say, of detecting things that were of high magical concentration. Kind of like that weird Pinkie Cake's pinkie sense or something like that. Anyhow, they said he had detected items like the Alicorn Amulet and other notorious trinkets. So, if he thought somethin' was up with that mask, he would have definitely tried to hide it."

Braeburn felt himself getting tugged into the conversation, eager to hear more. He too knew about McHoofin's ability to detect magical properties, but he had never heard of a mysterious gold mask before.

"Why not destroy it?" Morpheus asked, stuffing more fries into his mouth, "I mean, why would he bother trying to hide it? At that point, I'd have it destroyed."

"Ya' can't just destroy somethin' like that," Braeburn interjected, "if McHoofin's gut was right, Ah' reckon he knew that it was too dangerous to destroy. He'd have had it hidden away, where no pony would ever find it again."

Morpheus was silent, munching on his fries in defeat. Reflect, a smile plastered on his face, continued to sip at his juice. As for Braeburn he felt compelled to continue the subject that had grabbed his curiosity.

"Well," Braeburn sputtered, "what else did they say about that mask?"

Reflect picked up the black, leather bound copy, "Well...it says here that the mask may have been a remnant of some ancient zebra kingdom..."

"Zebra kingdom?" Morpheus chuckled, "here in the San Palomino Desert? I mean, I can understand our kingdom in the Badlands, but the San Palomino Desert? No way is there a kingdom there sir!"

Reflect shrugged, "That's what my sources told me."

"Well," Braeburn interjected, before any changeling could continue their debate, "Ah' think dinner here is done! Why don't we all rest up now?"

Both Morpheus and Shift turned their heads quizzically, "Bedtime?"

Braeburn seemed to blush, his cheeks turning a bright red. "Well, ummmm, yeah! Don't yer' queen have some kind of bedtime?"

"Yeah," Morpheus agreed, "but still, I mean, we're technically on a vacation, forced or not."

"But y'all need yer' strength?" Braeburn offered, his eyes practically pleading with them.

"I was thinking of exploring a bit," Morpheus suggested, pointing towards the door, "No harm in that right?"

Braeburn and Reflect both gave bewildered stares, before Braeburn finally spoke up. "But the whole cart is filled with them fancy ponies from Canterlot."

"Canterlot?" Reflect mused, "Why would anypony be interested in Appleloosa?"

"Not Appleloosa," Braeburn elaborated, "but the whole area of Equestria. They think it's goin' be some kind of adventure. Ya' know...vacation." The stallion gave a dismal, pained expression at his choice of words. Here he was, tryin' to convince two changelings to visit his new town. And in the other cart, was a group of Canterlot folk on vacation under the idea that they would be seeing some wild west exclusive.

Morpheus, on the other hoof, felt a tiny firefly light up once more in his head, before he waved it off, grumbling about bugs in the train cart. "Great Scat! This will be perfect!"

Getting up the changeling vanished in a flash of green flame, replaced by a familar white stallion with a blue mane and monocle. "I don't know about you gentlecolts," Morpheus replied in a perfect Trottingham accent, "but I'm going to go and mingle a bit now."

"Wait a second," Reflect darted forth, blocking his friend's exit, "what do you think you're doing? We can't just go strolling into a car of ponies we don't even know!"

"Which is why," Morpheus smiled, "I took on a form of this famous aristocrat...what was his name...aahhhhhhh Fancy Pants!"

Reflect narrowed his eyes, "You're kidding me right? Do you want us to get thrown off this train?"

Morpheus rolled his eyes, "Well do you want stay in a boring car all day or actually do a little exploring?"

Reflect pondered on this thought, before sighing, his own body being taken up in a flash of green flame, which was replaced with the same stallion he had taken from Canterlot. "I hope you know what you're doing..."

"Relax," Morpheus patted his hoof, before looking over Reflect with a disgusted stare, "I think you should be somepony...I don't know...a little more flattering?"

Reflect scowled, his form once again vanishing in a column of green flame. When the flame subsided, both Morpheus and Braeburn were frozen, their jaws agape.

"Well," Reflect muttered, "I do know a thing or two about Fancy Pants."

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In the adjoining cart, Jet Set and Upper Crust were looking over their cold hay fries with a dismissive stare. Being husband and wife, Jet Set's light grey coat and dark grey mane was in complete contrast to his wife's yellow coat and blue mane.

"I must say darling," Jet Set stated, setting aside the plate, "this food is absolutely vulgar."

"Most definitely darling," Crust agreed, setting aside her own plate and raising her hoof to the conductor. "Excuse me monsieur, but do you have any cuisine more favorable to...well...Canterlot standards."

All Aboard gave the two reprimanding glare beneath his spectacles before answering in his upbeat, deafening voice, "I'll go and check on the chef and see if they can cook something up."

"Most appreciated," Crust waved off, a fake smile forming on her lips, "and do come back soon when you can tell us what it is!"

The slam of the door caused both ponies resumed their emotionless stares. Jet Set decided to play with his fork, while Upper Crust went to view the window. "I must say darling, no matter how primitive these beastly heathens are, I must say the view is absolutley breathtaking."

Jet Set joined his wife to view the stars, nodding in approval, "Luna truly has the artistic talent to concoct such a celestial body as this." For a moment, the two stood there, distracted by the clear sky before they heard the familar slam of the door.

Resuming their cold demeanor, Jet Set turned around, "I do hope there is something on the MEEEEENNNNUUUUU..." He lost his words at the sight of the unicorn before him.

Standing, upright and perfect, was Fancy Pants, monocle included. Although it appeared he had no suit, his enlarged horn and perfect body stature made the couple rub their eyes in disbelief. How could it be that Fancy Pants was here, on this train, without their knowledge?

"Why-why Fancy Pants..." Jet Set stammered, rushing up to shake his hoof, "I-I had no idea you'd be on this train with-"

And that was when Jet Set saw that Fancy Pants was accompanied by a familar white mare whose bright pink mane and pristine body would make any stallion freeze in place. "Fleur dis Lee..."

The super-model unicorn appeared to bite her lip, as if she didn't know what to say before raising her hoof for Jet Set to shake, "A-a pleasure ummmm..."

"...Jet Set..." the stallion almost drooled. To meet Fleur dis Lee again was probably a pleasure few ever had. However, before he could gaze at her beauty any longer he gave a gasp of anguish. "OWWWWW!"

The grey stallion fell to his knees, clutching his hoof while giving an incredulous glare at Fleur. "Fleur...your grip."

"Oops," Fleur pulled back her hoof, checking it as if she was scanning for bacteria, "my apologies Jet Set." She then turned to view the mare standing in the background, a look of envy on her face. "And you must be..."

"Upper Crust," the mare answered grimly, "Jet Set's wife?"

"Oh yes," Fleur fanned herself rapidly, "my memory must be..."

"It's the heat," Fancy Pants interjected, "my wife has been feeling a little ill from all this weather."

Jet Set managed to get up, brushing some dust off his shirt, "Understandable. This weather is truly excruciating to the elite! Why don't you sit and join me and my wife for dinner?"

"Uhhh," Fancy Pants gazed longingly for the door, "I...uhh...we..."

"Would be delighted!" Fleur responded, overjoyed. In the back, her hind leg delivered a quick kick in her husband's shins.

"Yes!" Fancy Pants blurted, a pained expression forming on his face, "absolutely delighted!" If Jet Set and Upper Crust noticed anything, they didn't say.

"Well," Jet Set outstretched his hooves like a waiter presenting a table, "let's have a seat shall we?"

The two couples took opposite sides on the small mahogany table, Fancy Pants and Fleur on the couch near the window, while Jet Set and Upper Crust took two wooden chairs from the parlor.

"I must say," Upper Crust commented, "it is quite a surprise to me and my husband to see you two on board."

"Well," Fleur fanned herself once more, "we were quite curious about visiting the Equestria capital. What with all the news and all..."

"Oh the news," Jet Set flung a hoof in his face, as if he was blocking out some sort of blinding light below, "absolutely mortifying if you ask me!"

"Why is that?" Fancy Pants inquired.

Jet Set gave Fancy Pants an astonished look, "You haven't heard?"

"I'm afraid I've been a bit distracted with other errands." Fancy Pants admitted sheepishly.

"Well," Upper Crust divulged, leaning closer, "if you didn't hear, Chrysalis and her whole bunch of ruffians are on the loose!"

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"What's up boss?" the cook turned to grin at All Aboard as he stepped in, "those neigh-sayers want me to make a lemon puree?"

All Aboard didn't look amused, simply shutting the door and pulling off his navy blue cap. "Those Canterlot snobs can go jump off this train for all I care."

"Really?" the cook looked bemused, "and here I thought you were from Canterlot?"

"Fillydelphia," All Aboard smiled broadly, "best foalhood years of my life were in that place. You know, we're probably going to have to do another check on the back. Last two carts are apparently filled with investments from Canterlot's you-know-who!"

The cook tilted his head, "Who?"

Facehoofing himself, All Aboard asked himself why he even bothered with these foals in the first place. The Canterlot Bank was trusting them with another transfer to the south. It was the only way towns like Appleloosa still thrived. However, he should have figured they wouldn't trust the engineer or the cook with that kind of knowledge. As the train whistled by, he began to wonder why he became a conductor in the first place. If only he stayed in Fillydelphia and became part of that air balloon show...

Outside, as the train continued against the storm, a hooded figure watched from the cliffs. The cloak covered the stranger's face entirely, but for some odd reason, their eyes were still visible, gleaming yellow as the train came closer.

Right on time.

With a quick wave of its hooves, there was a low rumble, and suddenly, one by one, shadows emerged from the rocky crevices. They all bore torches and flour sacks that were crudely drawn with holes in them.

"That the train?" a gruff voice asked apprehensively.

"Quite," the stranger's voice seemed to echo across the plains, both gentle and yet cold at the same time, "we must hurry unless we wish to be late."

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It took a whole lot of self-control to keep both changelings at bay. Morpheus and Reflect, no matter how much they wished to beat the snout out of these two, would hold their horns less they get bucked off the train.

"We'll just keep playing our parts," Morpheus assured his friend on the hive chat, "they haven't suspected us yet have they?"

"No," Reflect acknowledged, "but I swear Morpheus this is the last..."

"Come on," Morpheus grinned, much to Reflects fury, "You make a lovely super model Reflect."

"Buck you," 'Fleur' smiled affectionately, "I don't know how long I can play this stupid git!"

Morpheus had to stifle a giggle, "Oh please, you're doing a great job as it is."

"So..." Jet Set began, curious as to why the couple had been stone solid for almost a minute. If he hadn't known any better, he'd have assumed they were changelings. But then he realized, as Fancy Pants smiled into his wife's eyes, and she returned the favor with an equal amount of passion, that they were simply distracted with each other.

I wish I had that in my life, Jet Set sighed, My wife barely has time to greet me in the morning before she is off with her friends. As Jet Set day dreamed, his wife only began to glower.

I know that look, she scowled, Oh I know that look. Suddenly, she felt a tear form at the crest of her eye. Why had love chosen these two and decided to forsaken them? Her husband always came back from work, gobbled up a daisy sandwich from the fridge, and slept like a hog on cider in their bed. He never had the time to appreciate all the little things she tried to do for him. But here, even in the middle of such gossip, Fancy Pants and his wife had time to share in a romantic smile, telepathically understanding the words they so dearly wanted to proclaim to each other.

"SNOT BRAIN!" Reflect bellowed in the hive chat, his eyes still casting off that faraway look.

"YOU'RE MOTHER WAS A HOLE-COVERED CRETIN!" Morpheus spat back in a ridiculous accent. Both changelings were, of course, using hive chat, disguising their scowls with smiles and giggles.

She's your mother too!"Reflect scolded.

"Umm," Jet Set tried to smile, "Fancy Pants?"

"Huh?" Fancy Pants turned his gaze to the couple, who both seemed to have jealous look on their faces. How did that happen? Morpheus would never understand Canterlot, despite how much he liked wearing a monocle. Well, at least Canterlot had monocles and moustaches, but after that their lives were pretty bland. In fact, he was quite sure that as far as life went, Canterlot was no different from his own hive. Everyone strived to follow the leader, frequently changing their preferences to suite his or her needs. In fact, the more and more he thought about it, the more and more he felt that Canterlot ought to be composed of changelings!

"We were discussing the changeling business in Canterlot?"

"What!," 'Fancy Pants' felt his heart leap into his chest, thinking for just a moment that perhaps Canterlot was composed of changelings. However, he immediatley dismissed that theory and nodded. "Oh yes, we were indeed discussing the...errr...changeling matter."

"You have anything to well..." Upper Crust began anxiously, "...say?"

"Neigh," Fancy Pants shrugged casually, "I don't think they're much of a bother at all."

"REALLY?" the couples gasped, "but surely, after the attack on our capitol! Or the-"

Fancy Pants raised his hoof for silence, his smile wide. "Listen my friends," he began, "me and my wife here don't see any problem with a few new neighbors in the town. In fact..."

He paused, knowing exactly what he wanted to say and at the same time regretting it. Could he really be this hypocritical? Even if he managed to deceive this couple, would he have deceived himself?

"Go on..." the couple was now hanging on to every word.

Fancy Pants took in a deep breathe, bracing himself for his next words, "In fact, I believe that there is a changeling performing in Canterlot whose skill in the violin would be worthy of the Princesses themselves."

"Really?" Jet Set asked, astonished, "who would this changeling be?"

"I believe the name is Transparence," 'Fleur' answered, winking at 'Fancy Pants', "Transparence is her name."

For a second, the couple said nothing. Looking at each other, they began, for the first time since they married, to read what was on their minds. They hadn't been to a grand performance in quite some time, being thrusted into the Canterlot crowd for so long. But...perhaps...a show would do them some good. After all, wasn't it time they start to embrace the contract they made in marriage?

"I think we might just give it a go," Jet Set smiled at his wife, "honey?"

He's never used 'honey' before his wife thought excitedly, perhaps we should go! She nodded her head eagerly, returning the smile. "I think that's just wonderful!"

"Well," Fancy Pants stood up, "we best be on our WAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!"
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SCREEEEEECCCH!

The train seemed to brake momentarily, causing both All Aboard and the cook to lurch forward, into the cabinet. Here and there, the passengers felt themselves heaved into the front of their cars, gripping onto any stable surface for support. For a second, it seemed as if the train had come to a stop, before it resumed its steady pace once more.

The cook was the first to get up, lifting a piece of crockery that had acted as his helmet. "What in the name of Celestia was that?"

All Aboard checked his pocket watch, assessing any damage done to it. When he was positive that no harm had befallen his precious possession, he turned towards the door, grabbing his cap in a vain attempt to squeeze it. "I'm going to have a word with Steam." Going towards the end of the kitchen, he trudged up to the bronze colored door of the engine room.

The engine room was just as productive as ever. The fire was still burning, sending a blazing heat wave that caused All Aboard to adjust his collar. The black, sullen coals were still in their depressing piles. In fact, everything was absolutely perfect except for one thing.

"Where's Steam?" the conductor mused before a well placed hoof lowered itself from the ceiling, poised like a cobra...before it struck his head. Within seconds, All Aboard loss consciousness as he went cross-eyed, collapsing on the floor.

Coiling down from their position on the ceiling, the hooded figure grinned as it donned an elaborate, purple fedora. "All aboard was it?" It was a terrible pun (HEY THIS STORY IS FILLED WITH TERRIBLE PUNS! DEAL WITH IT!), but one that they preferred. Pulling out a silver device from a well hidden satchel, the figure began to whistle a pleasant tune. Slowly, the coal piles collapsed as several masked, and hat-wielding, bandits crawled out.

"You know what to do," the figure flicked the little metal ball in one of the bandit's hooves. Catching it with amazing precision, he nodded. "Alrighty then, let's calm these folk down!"

The bandit tossed the device down the compartment with such accuracy it rebounded off the noggin of the cook and into the next car. Rolling ever so slowly, the crowd of distraught passengers gazed at it apprehensively, before the device gave a tiny click.

Before anypony could react, it discharged a column of smoke. In a matter of seconds, the passengers felt a wave of nausea surge over their bodies as they collapsed, snoring audibly. In a matter of seconds, the masked bandits rushed past them, snatching purses and coins as they went.

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As 'Fleur' regained her hoofing, she lent a helping hoof to her 'husband,' who took it gratefully. "What was that all about?" They had heard some muffled shouts, but before any of them could discern the noise, they abruptly stopped.

"Are you alright," Fleur was examining a wound on Fancy's cheek before the stallion waved her off.

"Tis' but a scratch!"

'Fleur' merely shrugged as she went to check on Upper Crust, who had fallen on her side. The mare allowed herself to be righted on her hooves, turning to check on her husband, who had managed to fall face first into the sofa. "Jet, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jet Set rubbed his forehead, "Those imbeciles at the train station ought to-"

The door was suddenly thrown off its hinges as the silhouette of a pony emerged from a plume of smoke. Tossing a tiny little marble, the device began to dispense smoke, which acted as a blanket. In a matter of seconds, Upper Crust felt a feeling of drowsiness as she toppled on the floor, snoring.

Acting purely on instinct, 'Fleur'-or Reflect-bucked the nebulous stranger through the entrance he had created. 'Fancy Pants' only had time to notice that there were several other shapes moving in the fog.

"What the buck is this?" Reflect exclaimed before he suddenly felt a whiff of the stuff permeate his nostrils. The familar itch that plagued all nostril-bearing organisms soon prevailed once more as Reflect felt his snout tingle. "Oh no, ah...ah..."

"What," Morpheus suddenly felt the gas tickle his snout, "Ah...ah...ah..."

"CHOOO!" and with that, both 'Fleur' and 'Fancy Pants' vanished in a column of green flame, replaced by two rather robust-no lanky-changelings.

Jet Set, who had managed to stay awake, stared in disbelief, "You're...you're..."But his eyelids grew heavy as he slowly drifted off in a deep slumber. The two changelings stared around them, seeing that the next car was filled with the snores and groans of passengers who had apparently dozed off.

"Sleep gas?" Morpheus questioned, dissipating some of the gas that had gotten too close to his mouth, "how are we not affected?"

"Let's not find out," Reflect grabbed Morpheus, just as one of the moving shapes materialized out of the misty doorway. From what Morpheus could see, the pony was wearing a grey bowler hat, its face obscured by a knapsack as it lunged a steaming pot pie(veggie of course) at them.

Pushing the door open, the two changelings swiftly shut it behind them, the pie splattering over the mahogany surface. Meanwhile, Braeburn, who had been napping during the ordeal, woke with a startle, looking at both changelings as if they had come from a stampede.

"What the hay are you-"

"SHHHH!" Morpheus hissed, "we're being robbed!" There was a muffled clatter on the roof, causing both changelings to look up. The hollow sound of hooves on metal soon began to fade. But neither changeling liked the sound. Somepony was on the roof!

Braeburn was now picking at his eye, "Robbed? Who the buck is robbing-"

BANG!

The door's hinges came loose as a burly, unicorn stallion broke through, trampling the two changelings. Before Braeburn could finish his sentence, he felt his eyes grow heavy as he dozed off once more, falling on his belly.

Leaping for cover, Reflect and Morpheus slid on the parlor table, before upturning the table for cover.

One after the other, streams of blue magic, whizzed past them, shattering glasses, china, and anything with the remote chance of being fragile. Even the glass melted when a luminous orange bolt collided with the window.

And then, just as sudden as it had occurred, the firing ceased. Here and there, whatever liquid hadn't been evaporated was now leaking over the shelf, staining the nice oak wood finish. Daring to take a peek, Reflect noticed that the back door at the end of the room was ajar, the cold, stormy sky now sending tiny droplets onto the floorboards. Getting to his legs, the changeling flew off past the door.

"Wait," Morpheus cried out,"where the buck are you headin' for?"

Reflect turned, his hoof pointed at the door, "Giving them a dose of their own medicine!"

"Are you insane!" Morpheus frantically gestured with his hooves, "we need to-"

Reflect gave an audible gasp of annoyance and took off, vanishing in the rain. His comrade stared around him, surrounded by a sleeping stallion, a demolished door, millions of pieces of glass that had been pulverized, and an overturned metal pitcher that had housed the peanut butter for dessert. But his book was still there and his bed was...well...still messy.

Morpheus silently cursed himself for allowing his comrade to jettison off on some inane mare-hunt. Reflect may be the intelligence general, but he was just about as skillful a fighter as a filly learning kung-hoof.

"Idiot," he facehoof himself, "why didn't I try to stop him." Looking around, he shrugged as he went to grab a muffin. "How bad do these things TAAAAASSSSSSSTTTTEEE!

A pair of blue hooves grabbed the changeling and threw him into the bed. Despite his rather soft landing, Morpheus rubbed his-still injured wings, groaning. Facing his opponent, he noticed it was a sky blue unicorn mare, whose top hat looked rather amusing. Narrowing his eyes, the changeling hissed, "Right then, I'll get you for that."

Releasing a thunderous-well rather weak- war cry, he lunged at his masked assailant. Easily side-stepping out of his way, the unicorn landed a well placed hoof on his wings, causing the changeling to crash into the overturned parlor table. Stumbling to his hooves, he barred his fangs, "Right then, come on! You-you chicken!"

(Once again, Scootaloo had the oddest sensation she was being used again as an insult)

The bandit seemed to grin before delivering a well-placed kick in Morpheus' shins. The changeling only gave a slight moan, before the unicorn finished with an uppercut to his snout, which sent the changeling directly through the parlor table, splitting the wood in two. Slowly, he rose up, limping on his hoof, while still holding a relatively decent boxing posture. One of his eyes was black and bloated, and he had multiple scratches, but he was still grinning, a loose tooth now wiggling in his mouth.

"Come on now, it's gonna take a lot more then that to get rid of Commander Morph-"

Clang! The mare had snatched the metal pitcher, smacking it on her opponents noggin. Soon, stars began to orbit around Morpheus' head as he swayed here and there, his hooves still trying to maintain some sort of stance. "Right, that would do it."

And with that, the changeling fell backwards, toppling over the table before he landed with a dull thud. Sighing at herself, the mare darted out the window.
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The torrent of rain was blinding as Reflect plowed through, watching his step as he slowly, but surely made his way down the cart. He could hear the distorted sound of gears being twisted, and figured they were after the storage compartments stored on the back. Trying to pick up speed, he saw a green flash before a dark shadow tripped him, causing him to land squarely on his snout.

The wet, slippery surface was a death trap as he slowly slid down, his wings buzzing back to right himself. For a moment, he thought the figure had made a move to help him. But whatever he thought was immediately dismissed when the hooded criminal fired another bolt of green energy at him.

"SCAT!" The changeling barely dodged the bolt as it sailed down the train and to Celestia knows where. Turning back, he raised his hooves in a boxing position, "YOU WANT SOME OF THIS?"

"Actually," the figure chuckled, "I think I've gotten enough from you...changeling." And with that, the bandit turned around, a misleading sign as Reflect ran forward, seizing the chance. But as soon as he got within a hoof of the nefarious villain, it raised its hind hooves, delivering a swift kick into Reflect's abdomen. His eyes went wide and he felt as if he was going to upchuck his guts as he sailed backwards, away from his quarry.

As he flew, the bandit mockingly waved back. "Enjoy your trip!"

At the same time, Morpheus had managed to wake up, and seeing that his own opponent had vanished, peered through the back door. "REFLECT! WHERE ARE YOU? I THINK YOU SHOULD COME BACK-OOOOOAAAAFFF!" His companion's comatose body collided with the changeling head-first, sending both of them through the unhinged door.

Nodding in satisfaction that all the passengers were asleep, the cloaked pony greeted the unicorn as she arrived.

"Trouble?" The hooded pony mused.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," the mare chuckled, leaping over the car, "just another changeling."

Both outlaws turned to observe two bandits sawing off the final pieces of binding. "How goes the construction?" the figure asked hopefully.

"Almost there," one of the bandits yelled over the roaring wind, "just...needs...a...little...FORCE!" And with that, the binding came lose. Turning back to give one last smirk, the figure leapt onto the car, where twenty thousand bits were being stored.

As the train continued on, vanishing in the mist, the stranger felt a sense of elation they had never experienced before. Before, it was just the occasional merchant wagon. But now, they were moving up to trains. This would definetly send a message to the Sheriff in the morning.Wait till Appleloosa get's a load of me!

Author's Note:

As for General McHoofin, if you've watched the MMMmystery on the Friendship Express, you'll probably have an idea who
he is. (Hint-the portrait of the mysterious general)

The Equestrian Cavalry Force is not canon, but hey, who knows right? I mean, their horsemen without men?

Anyhow, I hope you spotted the little reference to Abbott and Costello in the beginning, because they were an amazing duo!

Or even the Monty Python reference!

BTW, I always like to here what you guys think! So what would make a great song for this? I put my idea at the bottom of the story, but if any of you have an idea, please, feel free to share.

Comments

[shutaro]

You might want to cut down on the parentheses. Pointing out that you're trying to be humorous doesn't help. At all.
Also, "Scootaloo is a chicken"-jokes haven't been funny since 25/2/2011.

[ScopeEva]

static.dramastyle.com/images/3/10/6652/Monty-Python-and-the-Holy-Grail__3.jpg

Dear sir! You insult my intelligence by implying I might not spot it!

Nicely done.

[RandomPerson78642]

will be brought back soon after I've finished my other changeling stories

>never finishes any of them

In all seriousness, this series of yours was quite nice.
But considering it hasn't been touched for an entire year now, it may be best to just let sleeping dogs lie.