> Changeling With You
>  by alCROWholic
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: Enter Stage Right
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A spotlight settled on centre stage. 

There stood a tall creature, jagged teeth and tattered fabric – and a pair of horns that reached ever closer to the sky in a twisted dance. A gasp came from the audience. The string of a violin announced the opening of the next and final act.

“With these claws of mine of bone and steel sharpened. I will do that which no other dares. A crime most foul, to take the life of another.”

A mare galloped onto stage, theatrically panting for air. “Don’t! Asmodeus, don’t! There is no need! No need at all!” She pleaded.

Asmodeus’s boney snout pointed at her, a looming menace that stood thrice higher than her. “Was it not your own desire to see his end? I may well bloody my own hands, lest yours be bloodied in my place.”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to be become a killer Asmodeus.”

“Yet I am excluded all the same – for what good does such a reputation serve? If I am to be the monster, at least allow me to fulfil that purpose for our sake.”

A stallion trotted onto stage, a dramatic sting from the band below the front of the stage signalling the incoming conflict. “Do not act as if I am ignorant you foolish being.”

The mare backed away, “Mayor!”

“The lies I weave, the words I speak, they are for the craven and the desperate. The words do not matter, but rather their belief in them.” The mayor wore a deep purple suit and red tie, his mane slicked back. The very image of the corrupt politician. “There is no fight in me. Kill me if you please.”

Asmodeus stared at the Mayor, his empty eye sockets piercing through his veil or arrogance. “You fear me, for words cannot protect you from the slighted. Forgive me Anabelle.”

“No, don’t!”

Asmodeus held out his hand as a beam of black light shot towards the Mayor’s chest. He wailed and cried, before collapsing onto the stage with a bang. And just like that, it was over. The mare dashed over to his body and shifted him in an attempt to wake him. “No, how did this happen?”

The tall creature hobbled over to the tearful mare and shook his head. “Words will become reality, for I have nothing left.”

“What will you do now?”

“I will leave this town. There is no victory, the poison that he lay is too strong to cure. Goodbye Anabelle.”

Without another word being said. The lights fade and the curtains are drawn as the audience applauds the performance. Franz took off his costume’s helmet and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. The rest of the cast hurried onto the stage and assembled around him. Curtain (aptly named) pulling open the red drapes again so they could take their bow.

Franz always hated this part.

It was no secret that he was the primary curiosity behind the play’s popularity. A human – the extraordinarily rare race of creature that only came around one or twice every couple of decades. It made Franz feel like a sideshow attraction and not a stage actor, which is what he really was. (It was a good thing that Manehattan had a bustling theatre industry.) The crowd applauded once more as Franz and the ponies bowed. Franz could feel all of their wide eyes looking at him, the sweat that he’d wiped away a moment ago returning quickly.

Curtain Puller (his name - not his job,) drew them to a close. Franz took a deep breath. A stampede of hooves could be heard from the seating area as the ponies started to rouse themselves and leave. The actors and crew patted and hugged each other for another show well done.

“I’m sweating like a pig,” he complained, rushing to take the costume off. The lights didn’t help matters. He had to stand under them for nearly two hours after all.

His co-star Poppy looked up to him, “I didn’t know pigs could sweat!”

Franz shook his head, “It’s just a figure of speech.”

“Hey, hey!” Shouted an obnoxious voice from behind a piece of the set. “Great show, great show!” It was the theatre manager – Red Rope. His crimson mane was matted down with a natural grease that was not flattering to the eye. His end of show rundown was worse than any amount of stage fright. Red Rope had never acted in his life, yet he acted like an authority on the quality of the work every single time. Sneering and quipping, his parents should have named him Nit Picker.

The cast gathered around for the daily verbal lashing. “I think we’re getting better. I don’t have many notes at all for this one.” He held up his damn notepad and flipped through the pages. “Franz, pal, buddy, can we change the delivery on some of those last lines?”

“How do you mean?” Franz asked, waving his hands.

“I mean like, uh, it’s too theatrical. I want some sorrow you know?”

Franz was close to slapping the man for changing his mind again. Every week Red Rope has asked him to modify the delivery of the final scene. At one point he said it wasn’t dramatic enough, but now he wanted it to be more sorrowful.

“Alright, I know it’s really late. So I’ll just bring some of these up next practice. Make sure you clean up after yourselves, another group is using this place tomorrow!”

Franz turned to Poppy, who had taken off her costume. “Let me take that, I’m putting mine back too.” He took the small dress into his left hand and walked away.

“Thank you, Franz!”

Franz passed the other members of the troupe. They were chatting away happily and putting away various props and background pieces. He and Poppy were the only ones with the big costumes, the mayor’s actor - Super Trouper (no relation to the song nor the brand of spotlight which doesn’t exist in Equestria; much to Franz’s bewilderment,) had brought the suit in himself.

The back closet was a dusty bumhole in an otherwise nice and well-kept theatre building. Franz could feel the pony asbestos entering his lungs every time he opened the door to grab the costumes. It was preceded by a cheap, thin wooden door with a loose handle. Franz pushed through and walked in, feeling around for the light switch on his right side.

Yellow light flooded the space. This was a low budget theatre, so many of the costumes were hoof made. That or you just didn’t get one. Chrome racks ran up and down the length of the room. Franz shivered slightly, that wasn’t right. This room was usually warm unless somebody opened the back window. The many dresses and animal suits waved in the breeze. Franz hoped that somebody hadn’t broken in and stolen something important.

“Hello? Is somebody there?”

The room was small, but Franz was always one to do thing the cautious way. He’d rather give them a chance to surrender or run away rather than confront them and get into a scuffle. Franz stepped in, once, twice, deeper and deeper. Every gap in between the fabric a possible hiding place. It was a horrible time to be Franz’s nerves.

The average pony wasn’t into fighting. But Franz knew that there were a lot of weird things out there that he’d never seen before. Dragons, hydras, and other mythical creatures. The odds of one of them coming into the middle of the city was slim to none. But Franz knew that his fears didn’t have to be rational.

“Hello?” he ventured again. He stopped in the centre of the long room and waited, the only sounds were coming from the busy street outside, many of the ponies who had just attended the performance were still outside of the building.

Franz frowned and walked to the clothes rack, carefully sliding the battered outfit onto a hangar. Poppy’s costume followed. Franz turned to face the open window at the far end of the room. He needed to close it before something damaged the costumes. 

Somebody was watching.

Franz walked to the window and pulled it shut – the thing had always had a bad habit of not wanting to shut correctly. Years of neglect had left parts of the theatre in a bad way. The window wasn’t much good for looking out onto the street, it was too high for a pony and too small for an adult to squeeze through.

But the creature who’d broken in wasn’t just any pony.

Franz turned on his heel to leave, but his gaze grazed a bright blue orb hiding between the large costumes kept at the back of the room. He stared at it. What was that? It was almost glowing in the low light of the room. Did somebody leave it there?

Franz closed in. If somebody from the troupe had left their belongings in there, then he’d need to give them back. This was not a storage space that he’d leave any of his things in. Franz leaned in to get a closer look – and then he held out his hand.

“Fuck!”

Franz’s entire body tensed as a black creature latched on his lower arm. Through the fabric of his shirt. Red stains emerged from the bite. But even still the little thing wouldn’t let go. Franz shook his arm in a frantic attempt to shake away his attacker. He could feel a burning sensation where the bite has happened – and it was starting to spread.

“Get off me you bastard!” The creature made a strange clicking noise. Franz didn’t want to shake too hard for fear of ripping off his arm in the process. They might be small, but the average pony was quite heavy. Instead he forced his other hand against its muzzle and pushed with all his strength. His arm was stabbed by a thousand imaginary needles as his nerves pulsed in pain.

He threw the pony across the floor and gripped his bleeding arm. “Get out of here you crazy bastard! Out!”

The creature scrambled under Franz’s spread legs and pulled the window back open with it’s magic. They squeezed through, flashing his balls on the way out. Franz stood in stunned silence for a moment, did a homeless pony just break in and bite him? What kind of pony has entirely blue eyes anyway?

Poppy’s head peered through the still open door, “Franz, why are you shouting?” She gasped when she saw the state of his arm. “Oh Celestia! What happened?”

Franz shook his head and shut the window again. He made sure to lock it this time. “I don’t know, some crazy pony just broke in and bit me.”

Poppy seemed off put by the idea. “Bit you? A pony’s teeth aren’t sharp enough to do that…”

Franz walked past Poppy and walked over to the first aid kit that was kept backstage. “I’m going to have to see a doctor.” He pulled it open and wrapped his injured arm with a bandage. “I guess even Equestria has people like that.” From Franz’s perspective the place was a paradise. Crime, homelessness, anti-social behaviour, they were practically non-existent. From the moment that a pony was born they were hammered over the head with the virtues of friendship and understanding.

Franz had gotten into the line of thinking that there was nobody out to cause trouble. He should have known better; he was living in the biggest city in the country. And not everyone had the benefit of Equestria’s friendship focused education system and culture. He sat down on a much too small chair and leant back, he felt ill. Like a sudden flu had come over him.

Poppy frowned, “Hm, I think you should see one sooner rather than later, you look ill.”

Franz chuckled, “You’ve never seen an ill human.” He was stubborn, he wasn’t going to admit how bad he felt. Franz listened to the sounds of the other theatre actors packing away for several minutes without moving. It was odd to him that Poppy wasn’t saying anything. She was a nosy mare. Franz’s head didn’t feel like it was going to fall off anymore, so he tilted it back down. Poppy was still there. He’d expected her to have left already.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m going to go sleep it off. And then I’ll go see a doctor tomorrow. Don’t think he will help.” Franz waved his arm in an attempt to shoo her away.

“Okay, if you say so.”

The mare trotted away, glancing back as she rounded the corner. She had work to finish. What was the worst that could happen? Franz held up his arm and pulled up the edge of the bandage. The skin around the bite was blackened, like a sudden onset of frostbite.

“Oh.”
> Chapter 1: Manehattan in the Morning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Goooood morning Manehattan! It’s another fantastic day in the electric city!”

Franz did not share in the optimism. He was dead on his feet with a pounding headache and a high body temperature. Darkened veins ran up and down from where the bite had happened the previous day. The skin around it was black and stiff, like a burnt piece of wood. Franz’s immediate concern was to get himself over to his pony doctor and be insulted for several minutes by his patronizing questions.

Franz stood, half bent over since the apartment was pony sized, and walked over to his wardrobe. Sitting around and complaining wasn’t going to make it any better. He pulled out a shirt and trousers and quickly got dressed. The short sleeves exposed the bite mark on his arm – feeling self-conscious, Franz grabbed a bandage from the bathroom and wrapped it around his arm like a cheap mummy costume. That wouldn’t hold, Franz thought to himself, but it’d do for the walk to the doctor’s office.

The radio continued to blare a series of peppy pony songs for peppy ponies who weren’t infected by a homeless person hiding in a coat rack. The radio was one of the things that Franz hadn’t expected to see when he moved to Manehattan. Places outside of the city seemed like the wild west with no electricity to speak of. One of the things that confused Franz was that to some people in the country a radio was something completely alien. Back on Earth it revolutionized music, entertainment and news.

Manehattan was halfway to being a modern place to live. There were electric streetlights and radios and even rumblings of a cable car system being built by the Mayor. It was as close to home as Franz was going to get – the huge theatre district didn’t hurt as well. Franz opened the front door and walked out into the hallway outside of his home. The polished tile floors made sure that you knew when people were coming and going.

“Oh, good morning Franz,” an old voice called from his left side. Two doors down lived an old mare named Sunny Meadow. She was actually related to Poppy, a great-aunt. She looked the part, all wrinkles and greying fur.

“Good morning.”

She adjusted her thick framed glasses and squinted, “You don’t look so swell, did something happen?”

He tried to wave it off, “Just a bit of drama at work, not the usual kind of drama.”

“Oh yes, you’re working full time there now, aren’t you? Poppy was so excited to tell everypony about it.” Franz disagreed with Red Rope on matters of art, but he was a shrewd businessman. Franz used to have a part time job. Until Red Rope shamelessly took advantage of his in-person novelty to draw bigger crowds that paid more. Soon “volunteering” was a thing of the past. All of the major players got paid for their time and each successful show.

“Yes, last night’s show was a full house. Red is talking about fixing the place up with the extra money we’re making. Have you been down to see the show yet?” Franz leaned back against the wall to try and keep his balance.

Sunny shook her head, “Oh no, no, I’m not much for all that violence stuff!”

“It’s not real violence. There’s a unicorn hiding in the back who’s using a light spell.” Franz thought back to the meetings where they conceptualized the story of the play. His meek suggestion of physical violence drawing blank stares from every pony in the room. The fear of violence wasn’t a generational thing. Everything in Equestria was so friendship focused that even a simple plotline about two enemies was a tough sell.

Franz got the last laugh; it was raking in the bits.

“I’d better get going. I have an appointment at the doctor’s.”

“Ah, well don’t let me keep you.”

Franz walked to the stairs and began his descend to the ground floor. Some of the taller buildings in Manehattan were beginning to experiment with elevators, but his building was too old for that. The streets were as busy as usual, with taxi carriages and ponies coming back and forth down the main road. A few of them stopped to look at Franz before moving on.

Franz was already feeling terrible. He hooked a left and started the long walk to the doctor’s office.







“So what seems to be the problem?” Doctor Stethoscope asked.  Franz stared a hole through the posters that plastered every surface and wall. Keep your teeth clean, how to spot hay fever, what to do when you’re expecting. The white walls and low drone of the electronics in the room did little to dull his headache.

“I uh, I was bitten the other day.”

“Bitten? By a bug?”

“No, it was a full-grown pony.”

The doctor shook his head, “I’d know if our teeth were sharp enough to pierce skin!”

“Well whatever it was left a nasty mark, it looks infected to me.” Franz pulled away his temporary bandage and showed the row of marks to the doctor. 

He sucked in a breath, “Okay, that looks like it hurts.”

“It doesn’t actually, but I’ve been feeling ill since.”

The doctor pulled out a thermometer, “Let’s take your temperature first.” Franz held open his mouth as he clumsily placed it on his tongue. “Hm, it does seem that you’re suffering from an elevated temperature. Are you sure that you aren’t in heat?”

“I’m a stallion, humans don’t even have heat!”

“Details, details.” The doctor swung on his chair and levitated over a quill, scribbling down his observations on a piece of paper. “It’s certainly consistent with what we’d expect from an infection.” He glanced over at the injury and shuddered. “Are you sure that it doesn’t hurt?”

“Not now.”

“And is it bleeding?”

“No, it has scabbed over.”

“Good, so no stitches. It looks pretty serious - so I’m going to give you a large course of medicine. You need to take two of these every day, once in the morning and once in the evening. Hopefully it should clear those symptoms up.” The doctor pulled two wooden boxes out of his desk. “I’d like to take a blood test for you, but I’m afraid that our technician is out of town so we can’t get results for a few days.”

Franz was concerned, “You don’t have anybody to handle blood testing?”

The doctor clenched his jaw, “It’s a new field, there are only a few experts in the whole country. Thankfully the need rarely comes up. She should be back in three days, so I’ll schedule a follow up for you.”

“I’m going to be pretty busy for the rest of the week.”

The doctor scribbled down another note, “I can see you in the evening if you’d prefer?” The note hovered over in his magic grip, Franz grabbed it out of the air. Doctors were much more flexible in Equestria since the healthcare system wasn’t chronically underfunded and booked from top to bottom. Franz stood from the chair and rolled his eyes. He got the impression that this “medicine,” a primitive form of anti-biotic made using some kind of magic plant, would do little to help.

“Thank you, Doctor, I’ll come by again if it gets any worse.” The Doctor rewrapped the bandage (properly this time.) Before he left, he stopped by the reception desk to pay for the service. The mare at the desk gave him a pleasant smile and told him to come again. Franz hoped he wouldn’t have to.







Franz had immediately taken one of his pills and crashed on a bench in the central park. He didn’t have anything else lined up for the day so relaxing outside seemed like a good call. He watched as many ponies passed by, playing and talking. He wondered what Poppy was doing on a day like this. Franz had always wanted to make more of an effort to spend time with his friends outside of work, but he was too nervous to ask.

One pony in particular caught his attention. An earth stallion with a bright yellow-lime coat and deep green hair. He was wearing some kind of Hawaiian shirt and was fumbling with a paper map. Franz could immediately tell that he was lost. The bystander effect was in force as none of the other ponies stopped to help him.

Why not? Franz thought to himself. He stood from the bench and approached the befuddled stallion with a smile. “Do you need some help?”

“Some kelp? I’d much rather get some directions!” The stallion glanced up from the map and his entire body froze in position like a statue. “W-w-what in Equestria!”

“I’m offering you help.”

“Oh! Ha, that was uh… a joke, yeah.”

Franz knew that he’d just misheard him, he had a strong accent after all. Trying to evade the social catastrophe that was rapidly approaching was more than most ponies would try to do though. So he gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“They sure make you fellas big round here, don’t they?”

Franz knelt down on one knee to get on his level and appear less threatening. “I’m not from around here, do you need some help?”

“That’d be fantastic! I’m Shady Palm, nothing much shady about me though – you can see me from a mile away!” He laughed at his own gag. 

“Franz.”

He pawed at the map again with a frown, “I’m looking for the waterfront, but I can’t seem to get myself oriented! So much for Manehattan hospitality.”

“Yes, they’re pretty rude.” Franz pulled the map over and looked at the various red markings that had been made by some kind of pen or quill. Shady has clearly been on around tour around the whole city, to the theatre district, the statue, and even the old quarter. He wondered how he’d found his way around all those places without help, only now to get lost when trying to find the ocean.

Franz pointed at where they were in the park. “We’re here, facing here. If you keep walking straight this way, you’ll eventually hit the water. And then you can go up and down to wherever you want.” He noticed that the black veins had crawled from under the bandage and towards his fingers. He pulled his hand away before Shady could notice it.

“That’s excellent, thank you buddy!” Shady patted Franz on the back and put the map away into one of his many shirt pockets. “You know, I heard of you from a friend! You’re one of those… humens, aren’t ya?”

“Yes.” Franz’s arrival in Equestria was big news. Not world ending, this had apparently happened a few times before, but enough for him to be something of a celebrity for the kind of pony that kept up with newspapers.

Shady placed a hoof under his chin, “Is it true that you’re nocturnal?”

“Only if I want to be.”

He pointed his hoof in the direction of an invisible pony, “Ha! I just won a bet.”

Franz stood at his full height and looked around the park, “Come see my show, we’re at the Red Theatre every weekday evening.” The hustle never ended even when he was off work. 

Shady nodded, “I can do that much. I’ll check it out sometime.” He turned around but swivelled again to where he started. “Which way was it again?” Franz pointed to the exit of the park, “Oh right, thank you again!” The neon pony set off with a skip in his step.

Franz watched him go, “Good deed for the day…” Hopefully karma would smile upon him and cure his illness. Franz wandered around the park for an hour before his stomach started making the sound that it usually made when he was hungry. Shady Palm’s mention of the waterfront had planted a seed in Franz’s mind, there were a lot of great restaurants out there.

So a walk down to the waterfront seemed like a swell idea.

Franz weaved through the busy streets of the city, eyeing each restaurant that he passed. Franz wasn’t sure what he felt like eating. There were a few restaurants that served meat-eating clientele, but they were almost entirely seafood. Franz was never that into it. They were also the places that got rowdy around lunch time when the daily rush started.

As he passed an alleyway he heard a loud clattering. He stopped and looked. Franz knew better to dive into a shady alleyway. Even if it was in a place as safe and friendly as Equestria. He already had one injury to deal with and didn’t need another. But when the sound turned from rummaging to a wail of agony, his caution went out of the window. What was another good deed anyway?

Slowly, ever so slowly, he walked into the darkness. His feet brushed against discarded garbage that people hadn’t thrown away properly or had spilled out of the dumpsters that lined both sides. At the far end was a lone door. Whoever was here was hiding somewhere. The only place they could be was behind one of the dumpsters.

Franz’s head was constantly pivoting left and right, checking every nook and cranny in search of the mysterious voice. He was starting to doubt his decision to come into the alley in the first place, but he was too far in now. The voices of the ponies on the street grew ever quieter.

CRASH.

Franz’s veins ran cold as the scattering of paws meeting concrete emerged from a tipped over bin. It was a stray cat. “Little bastard.” Franz held his chest as he tried to calm his newly elevated heartbeat. The fear was all in his mind, he’d scared himself.

CRACK.

Franz didn’t know what was happening, or why the floor was approaching so rapidly without his consent.







“Jesus, fuck!” Franz wheezed. He was on some kind of hard floor, the place where he’d gotten knocked out a second earlier? No, there was no sound anywhere. He must be somewhere away from the street. “Who the fuck…” His head throbbed. Somebody had hit him, and he felt every bit of it. It was dark. Too dark to see his own hands. He felt around – the floor was tiled. He was indoors.

He pushed up onto his knees and took a moment to regain his balance. They’d really done a number on him. Franz was frustrated. He seemed to stumble from misfortune to misfortune, so much for being rewarded for his community service. “Karma’s a bitch.”

Franz knew he was a bit abrasive sometimes. But most ponies never complained about it, if anything some of the people in Manehattan were even meaner than he was! Yet he seemed to find trouble like he had a cutie mark for it.

“How do I get out?” Franz asked himself. He held out his arms and shuffled forwards in search of a wall; a wall that never seemed to arrive. Wherever he was - it was big. “Hello? Is anybody there?” he shouted.

A blue eye opened. Franz froze up again. He recognized that eye.

No, not just the one. Hundreds of them, all staring directly at him. The dull glow illuminating the outlines of the numerous bodies that covered every surface. In the centre came one more, a pair of green, catlike slits that stared into his soul. He shuddered.

“Oh, it seems that our guest is awake,” a voice purred with malcontent.

“Who the hell are you? Where am I? Did you punch me?”

“You ask too many questions.”

The lights flickered on. The first thing that Franz noticed was that the eyes were attached to a few dozen identical clones. Black chitin and insect-like wings. A low buzz coming from some of them. The warehouse they were in had been converted into some kind of makeshift home, with green pods placed where space permitted. Storage containers opened and looted, before being turned into temporary rooms with chairs and other pleasantries. Windows cut out from the metal and wood. It was like a tiny city, all contained within one building.

He could hear the sound of rushing water. The docks. They were at the docks.

In the middle of the audience was one pony who stood tall above the others, her individualism represented by characterful eyes and flowing green hair. “You are an interesting little thing, you smell like one of mine, yet you look like a shaved ape.”

She approached and circled around Franz. Her separated tongue flicked at the air like a snake. “I am Queen Chrysalis, and these are my brood.” Franz didn’t know what kind of queen lived in a dockside warehouse, but he wasn’t about to piss her off by asking. One of the blue-eyed ponies hopped down from a crate and limped over.

“He smells like Buzz, Buzz where?”

“Who is Buzz?”

Chrysalis rolled her eyes, “Buzz is one of us. He has gone missing.” The other creatures hiss and whisper amongst themselves. It seems that it’s a hot topic.

“So you brought me here… because I smell like him?”

“Yes, smell like Buzz, Buzz where?”

“I already told you, I don’t know where he is…” Franz thought about it for a moment. He smells like him. “…Unless, he might have bitten me yesterday.”

“He bit you?” Chrysalis asked. “That fool. Where was he hiding?” She seemed incredibly desperate to know.

“Where I work. He’s long gone now. Scrambled out of the window and ran away.”

“I knew he’d cause trouble,” Chrysalis raised her voice, “That buffoon will be the end of us all.”

Franz was angry, “Who was making that noise in the alley? Did you do that to lure me in?”

The small creature shook his head and held out a small wooden block with wooden pegs coming out of the top, “Ponies booby trap their alley, I step on.”

“That is just a toy.”

Chrysalis interrupted, “Yes, yes, all very good. Now if you’ll excuse us. You three! Go find him!” She pointed her hoof at a group of them, who saluted and flew out of an open hole in the roof. 

“Uh, so… is that it?”

The Queen stared Franz in the eyes. “Do you know who I am?”

“No, not really.”

She thought on it for a moment. “Don’t tell a soul what you saw here creature. Lest you incur my wrath!”

Franz stood and dusted himself off. “Alright. I’ll keep an eye out for your… friend. I guess.”

“If you please.” Franz couldn’t help but notice the rows of sharp teeth that filled her maw.

“Good talk, thanks.” Franz shuffled past the Queen and power walked to the door – shutting it behind him. As soon as he left the noise started anew, with the leader barking out even more orders. “What is wrong with this city?” His stomach rumbled. Worst of all, he was still hungry.
> Chapter 2: Commissioned Without Reason
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Franz had experienced an unbelievable few days.

While nothing would ever approach the mania of his initial arrival in Equestria – getting bitten by a runaway bug, only to run into a family of them hiding in a waterside warehouse was on another level of weird. As weird as things could be in a world with talking animals and magic. Franz had rightfully worried about the blunt force impact that he received, but for Franz the subject of changelings had never crossed his mind in the way that it did the average pony.

Because Franz didn’t know what a changeling was.

And since he didn’t know – the mare’s threat to keep them a secret was effective. Franz didn’t want to pull himself into any trouble for no good reason. In actuality the sooner he could forget about it the better. What was preventing that was the continuing charge of the infection up his arm. The herbal remedy that the doctor had given him two days ago had done nothing to slow its progress. Franz’s bandage was slowly growing in area every day.

The headache had gone, at least. Franz was counting the little miracles. But being in the presence of Red Rope for an extended period of time was liable to bring it right back again. Super Trouper swung on his little pony chair as the team meeting assembled for the morning session.

“You don’t look too hot Franz,” he preened his hair like a vulture. The challenges of styling your mane with blunt instruments was evident. Trouper usually poured a gallon of hair product over himself to wrestle it into submission.

“Some fucking crazy man bit me, I have rabies or something.”

“Uh-huh.”

Red Rope trotted into the meeting room and sat at the head of the table, behind him was a board covered in charts and statistics. The room quietened down. “Good morning fillies and stallions. Let’s get this meeting done with quick.” There’s a murmur of agreement from the cast. Red pointed to a chart that showed attendance numbers.

“You see this? This is the good stuff! Numbers are up! Prices are up! We’re picking up a lot of speed. I ain’t gonna’ pretend that it isn’t because of our tall friend here – but we’re aiming to build a company that isn’t just a gimmick.” Nods and agreements echoed through the room.

Poppy butted in, “But Franz isn’t just a gimmick…”

“I know Poppy, but what if Franz isn’t here? I want those numbers to be real. Every show has a selling point, we need some more of them that aren’t Franz. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“We can’t afford a big expensive set, or costumes, we’re cutting it close just paying you for being here. So I want some ideas, some great ideas that’ll get all those snobs talking!” Red tapped the table with his hoof for emphasis. Franz screamed internally. These were the worst kind of meetings. Many of the ponies at the theatre didn’t exactly have the idea generation skills to deliver a world beating concept.

Franz’s mind was once again cast back to the shock that they bore when he suggested that a character die in one of their pieces. Most plays in Equestria ended with everybody happy, and if they didn’t it was usually because they were historical re-enactments. Poppy leaned in again, “I think our current play is really good…”

“Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Trouper added. “What do you think Franz?”

Franz blew air through his nose and relaxed into his seat. “It’s okay.”

“Okay? Buddy you came up with it!”

“Well, I’m not always happy with my own work.”

“I don’t like the murder…” Poppy mused. “Maybe next time we should do a play without it.”

Franz shrugged, “If you want, I just wanted a classical tragedy.”

Red Rope swung on his chair, “A classical what?”

“A tragedy, a story with a sad ending.”

Poppy covered her muzzle, “Why would you want that?”

Franz sighed, “People like to feel all kinds of emotions. Sometimes people want to feel sad too.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You don’t need to get it, it just works.”

Red waved off the topic, “He’s right, it does work. Sales are through the roof, and we’re getting rave reviews in all the papers.” Franz had seen some of them himself. It was flattering to see other people praising his work openly. Although many of them criticized the ending, and the murder. It was even more of a taboo than he expected. Franz was by no means a writer himself. Any other professional could do better with the same subject material.

“Might I suggest that we hire a proper writer,” he floated. “I am no expert; I can only provide so much shock value.”

Red Rope nodded, “Shock value… never heard of it.”

“It’s where you put something that will cause trouble on purpose.”

“That sounds amazing! And I guess we can hire a writer too… anypony know a good one? Because I don’t.” Rope scanned the meeting room but was only met with blank stares, “Am I going to have to put out an ad?”

“I know somebody,” Franz stated, “I don’t know if they’ll be available though.”

“You really can do everything can’t you? Give him a holler for me and get back.”







The rest of the meeting was mostly uneventful, but Franz had placed a foot firmly into his own mouth yet again. There was nothing wrong with keeping quiet once in a while – Franz ought to learn. He chided himself as he strode down the roads of the city. His arm hurt, he was tired, and now Red Rope was giving him more work to do.

Script (the pony, not the style of theatrical writing) was not going to be happy to see him. And yet Franz found himself stood in front of his home slash office, preparing to knock down his door. Franz knocked thrice. The only response was the groan of a tired stallion.

“Script? Are you still asleep?” Franz was paranoid about waking up the other residents. He heard him shuffling around inside of his small apartment. Papers crunching underfoot as he tried to get his bearings. “Script, I have a job for you.”

“Give me a minute for Celestia’s sake!” The nasal stallion yelled. “Where is this… ah! There you are.” The door clicked as he unlocked it with his key. The door opened to reveal a young stallion with white fur, a messy black mane and yellow eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Franz knew that Script would become impatient quickly. Unless he invited you into his apartment, you were on borrowed time. “Red Rope wants a new play for our company, and he doesn’t know where to look.”

He leant up against the doorframe, “What’s the budget?” Franz gazed past the pony and into his apartment. The floor was carpeted with discarded pieces of paper and half-finished concepts. There was a small kitchenette, a desk with a typewriter, and a bed. Another door led into the only other room, the bathroom.

“Brave of you to assume that it has one.” Franz stroked his chin; he was starting to grow into a beard. 

Script glanced at the black mark on his arm. He grumbled, “What? So I don’t even get paid?”

“No, you get paid. You just don’t get to splash it on expensive costumes and sets.”

“Ugh, this sounds like a terrible job!”

Franz shrugged, “Do you know somebody who would want to do it?”

“Is this what they call networking…”

“Script.”

“Fine, I do - as it happens - know somepony who would like to get a shot at the big time. She’s a mare who came to the writing workshop a few weeks ago.” Script pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled down an address and name. Franz took it from him.

“Sally… Scribble?”

“Yeah, but she just prefers scribble.”

“And she lives down by the docks.”

“Yes.”

Franz kicked the tip of his toe against the floor, “Not again.”

“Huh?”

“I had a bad time down there the other day.” He put the paper into his pocket next to his own apartment key.

“Tourists?”

“No, the tourist was actually rather friendly.”

Script bobbed his head back and forth, as if deciding to broach an uncomfortable subject, “Does it have anything to do with your nasty looking arm?”

Franz held it up and ran his fingers across the hardened skin, “It does. That Doctor I saw was a complete quack, no help at all.”

“That sucks. It looks… bad.”

“I know, it keeps getting bigger. I’m going to end up wrapped in bandages.”

An awkward silence settled over the pair. Franz and Script truthfully had very little in common, and Franz dreaded having to speak with him. They’d met a few times while “networking” with other theatre people – and their relationship was strictly professional. Franz didn’t hate Script, far from it. But this kind of silence was the one that made him break out into a sweat.

“Just one last word of warning, she’s a bit… eccentric. So bear with her.”

“Okay.”

With their transaction finished, Franz waved him off and descended the stairs back to the lobby. He had too much to do. He needed to organize that blood test that the Doctor offered, find somebody to work on a script for the theatre, and the other day some silly bastard had bucked a hole in the wall outside his apartment - which meant that he needed to find a plasterer too. Whoever did it had hell to pay when he found them.

Franz was lost in thought when he came to an abrupt stop. The pony who ran into him tumbled over onto his back and cowered beneath his legs, “Don’t hurt me!” It was Shady Palm again, the tourist he’d helped the day before. His floral shirt was dirty and matted with what seemed to be blood.

“It’s me Shady, what on Earth happened to you?” Franz bent over and pulled him back onto his hooves. The stallion didn’t answer at first, glancing behind him as if he was being chased.

“The pony mafia are after me!”

“The what what?”

“The pony mafia! The most notorious gang in the country!”

He certainly looked the part. He’d clearly been in some kind of scuffle. “So why are you running down the road like a madman? I don’t see anybody.”

“That’s because I got my behind outta’ there! You should have’ seen the face on this fella, he looked like a hive of bees!” The first thing that Franz wanted to do was walk away before he got dragged into something else, but he knew it was probably too late to do anything about it now. 

“And what happened between yesterday and now to cause this?”

Shady began regaling the story, complete with mimed actions. “So you see, I was down at the waterfront enjoying myself a big bowl of Manehattan’s finest, when I bump into this big fella. Wouldn’t you know it? Food everywhere! And man, his suit looked expensive. He was furious!”

“So you got into a street fight.”

“Well, yeah!”

While ponies were adverse to violence in most cases, that didn’t mean that they’d avoid fighting if you made them angry enough. Franz had seen a few dust ups himself during his time in the city. “I don’t follow, why is the mafia after you?”

“Well, he was ranting and raving in front of me about how much it cost to dry clean, so he spilled a bunch of beans about how he was a bigshot in the pony mafia. Then we got into a tussle, I would have had him if his friend didn’t join in!”

Franz’s belief could only be stretched so far before it snapped. He didn’t believe for a single moment that there was such a thing as the pony mafia, or that a random stallion would declare that he was part of it because he got food on his clothes. “I’m going to be honest; I think you made some of this up.”

Shady was visibly offended at the suggestion, “I’d never do that! They ruined my favourite shirt.” He pulled on the fabric, wringing out some water. Did he get thrown into the bay too?

“Maybe you did get into a fight, I doubt that the pony mafia are going to hunt down some random tourist just for that.”

“They’re pretty easy to spot – they’ve been all over the city for the past few days. Looking for me!”

“It’s nice to know that you have such a high opinion of yourself.”

“Thank you!”

“That was sarcasm.”

His ears drooped, “Oh.”

“I think you need to go relax somewhere and stop worrying so much. At least you didn’t get bitten by one of them.”

“I might have, my flank hurts.” Shady sat down in the middle of the road and smoothed over his mane. Franz looked up, his eyes meeting a pony wearing a white suit jacket. He looked like bad news, he had the frown, the jewellery and the slicked hair. It was like a pony Robert de Niro.

“Don’t look but I think one of them is over there.” Shady, being stupid, tried to look. Franz intervened and held his head in place. “What did I just say?”

“To not look.”

“Just ignore him. He has a suit, is this one of these mafia guys?”

“Does he look mean?”

“Yes, very.”

“That’s two strikes.”

There was a brief moment that struck fear into Franz’s heart as the gangster looked his way. After a moment something else seemed to grab his attention and he peeled off into a nearby alley. “Where’s he going?”

Shady pushed away Franz’s hands, “I rightly don’t care!”

“Stay here then.”

Franz walked past and dashed towards the alleyway. He could hear the sound of the stallion opening the lids of the dumpsters and bins. He was looking for something. “Come on out dead meat! I’ll go easy on you.”

There was no response to his vague threat of violence. Not that any rational person would jump at the chance to surrender to a mobster. “I’ll find you eventually, make it easy on yourself.”

The invisible man wasn’t in the mood for a beatdown. Franz was struck with a sudden sense of déjà vu. Wasn’t this what happened to him yesterday? If his life was a play, he was currently enduring some incredibly lazy dramatic irony. As if on cue, a trash can fell. The mobster swung around, “Hey! Get the buck back here!”

A black blur dashed past him with such speed that he was almost unsure of what happened. Franz vacated his spot before the mobster spotted him. Shady pushed through the ponies who had gathered, “Did you see that? A changeling! Like a bat out of tartarus!”

“Oh my goodness! A changeling, how horrible!”

“We need to call the guard!”

“Are they going to invade the city?”

One mare fainted. A sense of panic was rapidly spreading through the crowd.

“Shady, what is a changeling?”

“What? You don’t know what a changeling is? They only invaded Canterlot castle during the royal wedding! They’re the most wanted creatures in Equestria.” 

And he was the one person who knew where they were hiding.

“Oh, good.” 

Franz’s day just kept getting worse and worse.
> Chapter 3: Scribbling on the Walls
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Franz had requested another meeting with the Doctor. The infection had spread at an alarming rate and the herbal remedies that he had been given had done nothing as predicted. The black mass that had consumed part of his arm had now spread upwards to his shoulder, and downwards towards his wrist. The skin was splotched with untouched patches of pale pink, surrounded by lakes of ink black. Franz could not hide it beneath a simple bandage anymore. 

What was most disturbing was the rate at which it had accelerated. At the pace it was travelling now it could soon spread to his chest too, and Franz didn’t want to think about how stupid he’d look if it got to his face. The Doctor was unconvinced.

“I’m just saying Mr Franz, maybe this is something that happens to humans your age.”

“Doctor, I am a fully grown adult – and I can assure you that in my twenty-eight years of living, I have never seen something like this. This is more extreme than frostbite.”

“But you still have sensation in your arm.”

“Yes. That is why it is so strange; the tissue is not dead, and my nerves still function. How could such an extreme reaction not cause lasting damage?”

The Doctor sighed, “I’m not sure. You claim it’s an infection?”

“Yes. I was bitten by something recently and that is when it started.”

“Do you have any idea what it was?”

“I think it was a changeling – the one who has been running around downtown recently. He was hiding in the storeroom.”

“A changeling? I can’t say I’ve ever dealt with a changeling bite before. They’re rare, that’s why everybody is so freaked out about them. That and the attack on Canterlot.”

“Can you take my blood? Is the blood test person back?”

“Oh, of course. I did say that she was out of the city, didn’t I? I can take it now and send it over to them.” He wheeled over to a cabinet and pulled open a clear plastic drawer filled with small packages, each one containing a syringe. “You don’t have a fear of needles, do you?”

“No,” Franz replied, pulling up his sleeve. He winced as it was pushed into his vein. Franz watched as it drew back, revealing red blood tainted with black swirls. “What the hell? It’s in my blood?” The Doctor’s face told the tale – he wasn’t sure of what to do.

“I’ve never seen that before.” He held the full vial up to the sunlight pouring through the window. “They’re still separate from each other, like oil and water.”

“Are they even going to get results from that?”

“I hope so,” he shrugged, placing the tube into a plastic bag, and scribbling down Franz’s name and details. “They’re very talented – their bloodwork is second to none. If anypony is going to find out what that is, it’s her.”

“When can I expect the results? I don’t want to wait any longer.” 

“Tomorrow, I’m marking this as a priority job. Come see me again, same time – and I’ll hopefully have some more answers for you.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Franz was annoyed that it had taken this long for him to get real medical attention. Pony doctors were incredibly stubborn and refused to listen to his advanced human knowledge about how medicine worked. Once a year ago he visited and asked for something to help with a cold that he’d caught, and it was only by the time that the symptoms had subsided that they saw fit to give him something that worked

He stormed out of the clinic, not even waving back to the pony manning the reception. He needed to still go see Sally Scribble about the new play. Thankfully, it was a cool day. Cool enough to chill his head before he got to her home by the docks. He’d intended to do so yesterday, but a troupe of royal guards practically bowled him over and demanded that everypony in the area give an eyewitness statement about the rogue changeling.

Buzz, was it? The tall one had mentioned him. Maybe he’d come down with a sudden mania and started running around the city, biting people and the like. Franz wondered if it had something to do with the invasion that Palm had talked about. There were too many recent events that he wasn’t in on. Franz was not in the mood to think.

Which was bad because he needed to convince Sally to join their company. A writer looking for their first job would be eager to work with a successful company like theirs, but if Script thought she had a screw loose, he could imagine her being difficult. The Address was a small three story detached building, the kind that lined the streets of the residential areas. To find them on the waterfront was tricky. The plots were in high demand and usually reserved for industrial development.

Franz buzzed himself through into the lobby and inspected the names of the ponies living inside. Scribble was on the second floor. Franz ducked down and walked up the pony sized stairs. He hated buildings like this. It’d been a pain to find a place to live that could fit his fat head and long legs.

Knock, knock, knock. 

The shuffling of discarded paper, Franz was struck with a strong feeling of déjà vu. “Who is it?” A voice asked from behind the wooden door.

“My name is Franz, Script referred me to you.”

The clunk of a lock being released. The door opened to reveal a bedraggled mare with curly purple hair and light-yellow fur. “Did he? I thought that he was joking.”

“It’s more like he pawned me off to you, he’s too busy to help a friend. But if he recommended you, you must be good-” 

The words died in Franz’s mouth as he glimpsed upwards and into her apartment. If Scripts apartment was messy, Sally’s apartment was the stuff of a cleaner’s nightmares. There was simply no surface that was not covered in paper sheets. On them, thousands of words of varying neatness scrawled in every orientation and language.

There were sheets on the walls, loosely connected together with string. Sheets hanging from the ceiling of metal clips. Sheets on the tables and dining surfaces, stained with food waste and spilled liquids. The windows were covered, the doors were covered. And to Franz’s discerning eye – it appeared that much of this was multiple layers deep. An entire forest had been slaughtered and hung up in a form of ritualistic murder. This was the home of a madwoman, a conspiracy theorist, or somebody who really, really hated the environment.

“Good god woman! What is all of this paper?”

Sally looked as if nothing was amiss, and that Franz’s question was the strangest thing here. “What do you mean? That’s my work!” she grinned with barely restrained pride.

“And… you can find what you’re working on in all of this?”

“No.” Her smile never faltered. “I usually just start over!”

“Uh-huh.”

“This is my masterpiece, my greatest work!”

“A masterpiece is usually the peak of your life’s work Sally, have you ever brought a play to stage before?”

“No, but when it’s done – it’ll be a good one. I may as well retire on the spot!”

Franz was already foreseeing the incoming disaster that this would eventually become. “Sally. We’re looking for a spec script. We have ten actors and a limited budget. It should be at least an hour and ten minutes long.”

“You’re offering me the job?”

“I trust Script’s judgement on who can write and who cannot. He is much smarter about it than I am. But! You need to finish it before you show it.”

Sally saluted, “Finish it!”

“So what do you need to do?”

“Ten actors, over an hour, no deadline!”

Franz could feel his blood pressure rising already, “No, no. There is a deadline, it needs to be done this month so we can start rehearsing.”

“Got it!” She smiled.

“Do you?”

“Yep!”

“So when is the deadline?”

Sally hummed and stroked her chin. The pause that followed physically hurt Franz, down to his very soul. His bones rattled and bile rose in his throat. His eyes itched as his skin heated up. “This month.” He finished, “It’s this month Sally. I can give you a few days leeway, but if you want to be a playwright you need to be motivated and organized.”

“Okay.” The mare nodded, but then frowned. “Are you okay? You look strange, not that I know what a… whatever you are, looks like normally.”

Franz was aware that the sudden fever that had come over him was not caused by simple frustration. “No, I’m not okay. But I am out here doing my chores anyway.” He pushed off from the doorway and stood, wobbling slightly as his sense of balance was knocked for a loop. “I’m going to go home and sleep it off. One more time-“

“This month, ten actors, over an hour, I got it!”

Eventually.

“Good, bring it down to the playhouse when it is finished. Do you know the one?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, show them what you can do.”

“Roger!” Sally saluted again as Franz stumbled back down the corridor. 

What the hell was going wrong with him now? He didn’t have the strength in his legs to move at any speed. He shuffled along the sidewalk, his muscles refusing to respond. On the streets, he had to stop every so often to avoid tumbling over some poor pony and crushing them. He could feel something watching him.

This was close to the warehouse where those bugs were hiding. 

An impulsive thought battered at the gate’s on Franz’s mind. If he’d been bitten by one of them – maybe they’d know something about the disease he’d caught. The problem being their willingness to divulge information to a complete stranger. It was better than what that fucking doctor could tell him… So he decided to go there again.

He hobbled over the cobblestone road and up the opposite side. The warehouses were tightly packed together. It was a curious occurrence that a group of squatters could hide in one of them without being caught. This was an important trade location and they were almost always in use. The doors slid open with little resistance. His heart sped up as he walked down an artificial corridor of corrugated metal containers. 

In the centre of a circular space was the tall mare, she was sat of a throne of crates, toys, discarded furniture. Other black creatures scuttled around and made an intolerable amount of noise in the process. She didn’t seem all that concerned about Franz just walking in.

“Look at this desperate creature,” she cackled, “Have you returned to see your Queen?”

What kind of Queen sat on a throne of garbage? And what was she the queen of? Franz held out his arm, sickly and blackened. The skin peeled and rotted like a dead limb, but it still lived. “Do you know what this is?”

Her green eyes glowed with a menacing fire. “Yes. I do.”

“And what do I need to do, for you to tell me how to fix it?”

The Queen craned her neck, seaweed hair draped around her features. “Hm. Are you so desperate as to ask questions of us?”

“It was one of you who caused it when you bit me. I’m infected with something.”

She smirked, “An improvement. I find your current appearance offensive to my senses. That leg of yours would fit right in with the hive.”

Franz’s corrupted blood froze in his veins. “What?”

“Tis’ a rare sight. A creature who can be turned by a mere bite. It will crawl up your skin and through your body – transforming you into one of us!”

Franz shook his head, “Bullshit. There’s no way that’s true.”

The Queen waved her leg dismissively, “Believe what you like, fool. It will be your suffering, not mine.”

Franz stepped closer, “Do you know how to fix it?”

“Perhaps.”

“Tell me.”

The Queen pouted, “This isn’t a charity, I’m afraid. You will have to do something for me in return.”

Franz’s voice quivered with anger, “There is nothing stopping me from finding the closest royal guard and having this building put to the torch.”

“An ant like you cannot do such a thing. Your answers will be burned along with us.” The chattering of the other drones ceased as a cold chill blew through. “Do not threaten me or my kin. It will be the last mistake you ever make.”

Franz scowled but said nothing.

“I am offering you a simple deal. You find and retrieve the hatchling who bit you, and I will tell you what you wish to know.”

“Buzz?”

“Yes, ‘Buzz’ has found himself outside of our collective and risks the secrecy of our current hive. If you merely find him and bring him back here – I will grant your wish.”

Franz wasn’t dumb. He knew that something here wasn’t on the level. These folks had invaded the capital city of the country and were hiding here for a reason. But why Buzz was so important was a matter that he couldn’t confirm without meeting him first. If he could confirm what was happening with the doctor, he wouldn’t need her help anyway.

He was also slightly afraid of getting his ass beat by the few hundred changelings that were watching the argument play out. This wasn’t the place or the time to pick a fight with a gang of criminals. 

“Okay. I’ll find your friend and bring him back.”

The Queen smiled, “Of course you will. Trot along drone, the clock is ticking.”

Franz nearly spat at her as he turned to leave. Maybe one day.
> Chapter 4: Passion for the Fashion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Did you get us a script writer?” Red asked as Franz entered the building. He was waiting by the front door to ambush him. 

“Yes. She wasn’t my first choice, but she came recommended from a talented writer.”

“That sounds pretty bad.”

“You know what else is bad? Looking for a writer for a zero-budget production. Get on my back when we have some money to spend.” Franz was wearing a long-sleeved shirt to hide the state of his infected arm. It had reached his upper bicep and would soon take over his shoulder. He didn’t need to be worrying about the troupe’s next play.

“Excuse me,” a faint voice whispered from behind. Franz turned to see a pale mare with light blue hair. Franz recognized her, not just for her work in the industry, but because she’d been in the audience during the last show. It was Coco Pommel, a rising costume and fashion designer.

Red pushed Franz aside while he put on his usual smooth-talking routine, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Pommel?” The mare looked to Franz and then back down to Red.

“I was really interested in your play. And I was wondering if you had any other productions coming up that I could… get involved with,” she said with no small amount of hesitation. She winced when she said it. As if Red would reject to presumably free assistance from a well-known designer and maker. 

“That’s not a problem, not at all! In fact Miss Pommel, we’d be happy to have your involving with our play!”

“It’s just that we don’t have a budget.”

Red shot Franz a dirty glare, but Coco didn’t seem surprised. “Oh, I’m well aware that your company isn’t in the best position. I was hoping to expand my portfolio in some unique places.” Red slipped behind her and escorted ger further backstage.

“We’re all hard workers here Miss Pommel…”

“Please, just call me Coco!”

“…And we’ve made great strides in enhancing the theatre. New seats, fixing up the leaky roof…”

Franz followed them as Red showed her the seating area, “And I wonder who is responsible for that.”

Red sighed. “Thanks to our tall, dark and handsome friend here – we’ve been able to renovate this old theatre into the pride of Bridleway! If our next show is as successful as this one, we’ll finally be able to invest money back into the plays themselves.” Coco nodded along as he gave her the not-so-grand tour of the classic building. But then Poppy emerged from behind the curtain and nearly collided with her.

“Oh! Sorry!”

“No, it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s my fault.”

“You don’t need to apologize; I should have looked where I was walking.”

“But I was the one who nearly trotted into you!”

Franz shared a glance with Red as the two mares batted apologies back and forth like a game of tennis. They both broke out into a nervous laughter, followed by an awkward silence. Red stepped in, “This is Poppy, she’s one of our wonderful actresses.”

“The Coco Pommel is touring our building?” she squealed, finally noticing who she was. “I’m a huge fan of your work!”

“Oh really? It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

“The piece you made for the waterside prom. Amazing! How did you even do it?”

Coco blushed, “It was a lot of work – but it was worth it.”

“I assume you can vouch for her skills then Poppy?” Red concluded. 

“Of course! This’ll be a great opportunity to improve our costumes. This is going to be the biggest show on Bridleway.”

Coco looked to Franz, her eyes passing over his heavily bandaged arm. She saw it polite to not comment but Franz knew she wanted to ask why. He hadn’t even told Poppy yet. He was secretly hoping that he’d be able to resolve the problem before there was a need. He didn’t want to burden her with his problems.

“My costume needs repairing, badly.”

“Sure Franz, if Coco here would be so kind – I think it’ll be a good idea to show her the storeroom.”

The gang moved behind the curtains and to the cursed room where Franz had gotten the bite in the first place. The door was easily booted open with a bit of pressure, since the lock was so old that using the key was an unreliable effort. The leaky, creaky, dank storeroom that housed every costume used in the show was revealed to an incredibly unimpressed Coco.

“No wonder they’re so beat up! I can see the water damage from here.” Coco trotted into the room with a commanding presence that had been missing just a few seconds earlier. “This room is not up to standard Mr Rope. Any fabric stored in here will simply wither away.”

Franz rolled his eyes, he’d had this particular conversation with Red Rope a thousand times already, and the answer was always, always the same…

“But the money just isn’t there!”

Franz had to stop himself from mockingly following along. Red Rope was a special kind of cheapskate. Even when the show was a huge success, he’d spend a lot of the takings on advertising campaigns and celebrity endorsements. Anything that would actually improve the theatre had to be front facing. New seats, repainting the walls, redoing the reception area.

Those were all important. But the fact of the matter was that there were several other places that desperately needed a facelift of their own. Rope’s opposition to giving them some love and attention came off as more of an ideological trick than an economic one. There wouldn’t be much of a show in the future if Franz’s pants fell down halfway through the final act. Comedy wasn’t his forte.

“I keep telling you Red, it’d be safer to keep our costumes at home than in here. I spend thirty minutes before every show drying them out,” he griped. “If we took the racks out of here – they would last much longer. The roof needs patching, the door is broken, and the window may as well not be there at all.”

And changelings could sneak in and bite you.

“Fine, we’ll move them. I’m sorry you had to see this Coco.”

Franz’s tolerance for schmoozing was hitting it’s upper limit. Even when the mare was offering free labour, he couldn’t help but suck up to her. Franz decided to make his own case, “I think you would be a big help Coco; I hope you’ll consider joining us.”

She nodded, “You have an interesting accent, where are you from?”

“Germany.”

“Germaneigh?”

Franz sighed, “Basically.”

“I didn’t know they had…”

“Humans.”

“…Humans in Germaneigh.”

“They don’t. I’m one of a kind.”

Coco frowned, “That sounds so sad.”

“Not as sad as this damned storeroom. For the sake of all that is holy, fix it up.”

“I get it Franz! We’ll try and get somepony in to fix the roof.” Franz walked past the boss and wheeled one of the racks out into the backstage area. It’d be a tight fit with everyone running around before the show, but it was preferable to letting the costumes suffer any more damage.

“Can we count on your help Coco?”

Coco nodded again, “Of course! It’ll be an interesting change from normal fashion.”

“Fantastic! I look forward to working with you!”

Poppy did a little jig to celebrate. Franz could only imagine how much of a nightmare he’d make things with a big new name on the team. “This is amazing! It’s been ages since we’ve had a proper costume designer.” If Poppy was happy, Franz was happy. So he kept his pessimistic comments to himself.





Franz had more problems than just keeping up with his work at the theatre. The Queen has offered information in exchange for finding the drone who’d bit him. They both had a gun to the other’s head. If the Queen flaked on her part of the agreement he could go running to the guards, but if he couldn’t find him – he’d never find out how to cure himself. 

And from the reactions that he’d seen to the rogue changeling from the general population, he could see it being just a little bit worse than the pandemonium that had descended when he’d arrived in Equestria.

The blood test had confirmed his worst suspicions. He’d been contaminated with changeling… gunk. The blood tester couldn’t quite specify what it was, but it was self-replicating. He told the whole tale to the doctor, who could offer him nothing but condolences and more herbal treatments. Franz had thrown them into the garbage as soon as he left, this was his problem to fix now.

But where could he even start? Manehattan was the biggest city in Equestria – the crossroads to the rest of the world beyond. A trading and industry powerhouse, where tens of thousands of ponies and other species lived together. This city was no joke, it was nowhere near as big as Manhattan on Earth, but it was still too much for one man to navigate on his own.

It was a literal hunt for a needle in a haystack.

The changeling had been getting around. The press had been gripped with changeling fever, wild speculations of the incoming invasion were mixed in between wild scare stories, and the occasional sighting of the chitin covered nuisance that he was looking for. Franz had ripped out those articles and pinned them onto the wall of his apartment like a lunatic.

He felt like a lunatic. Half covered in bandages and wandering around in a daze, he was surprised that nobody asked him if he was drunk. Franz was not having any luck. But it seemed that trouble had found him first. A suited pony with a rough look about him stood in front of him.

“Hey, are you the freak show that’s buddies with the tourist?” he spoke in a strange accent.

“The tourist?”

“Flowery shirt, stupid hat.”

“I know him, I wouldn’t call him a friend. Why?”

Before he could receive an answer, he felt a pair of hooves push against his back. He could feel the air pressure changing behind him and the flapping of wings, a Pegasus? “Come with us.” He wasn’t asking for permission, so Franz held up his hands and followed them down several alleyways. They eventually came upon a blue metal door, illuminated by a single lamp. The mobster knocked on the door three times.

It swung open revealing a staircase that led down, further, and further. Franz was surprised to find that it was a bar, with a wooden front, tables, chairs, and even a pool table. There was a smoky atmosphere in the air, but the warm light of the lamps inside made it feel a little bit more welcoming than a cell. “Over here.”

Franz was led to a pair of brown couches and forcefully sat down, “No need to push.”

The Pegasus sneered and backed away, hopping over the bar, and pulling out a shot glass. The suit sat down on the opposite couch and looked to the clock on the wall. A second later another set of hooves descended the stairs and entered the bar. The stallion was old and spindly, with a long muzzle and light brown fur. He wore an expensive black suit and a long white scarf. 

“Boss, we got the guy.”

The stallion said nothing. He hung up his scarf on a nearby coat rack and trotted over, sitting next to him. He grumbled with a deep baritone, scanning the human who sat in front of him. 

Franz said nothing – knowing that these kinds of people did things on their own time. “I don’t want to keep you here for long. I was hoping to extract some information from you.” Straight to the point, now that was a surprise. “Are you familiar with the stallion in the hat?”

Franz considered nodding along, but thought better of it, “Depends. What do you want with him?”

His eyes narrowed, “Do you know where I live? I have a nice house on the edge of the city, with a big garden. I bought it because my daughter has something of a green hoof – and enjoys the art.”

“What does this have to do with the tourist?”

“My dearest little girl was going about her normal business, when that idiot burst from the bushes, and enjoyed testing his teeth on her! I saw the whole thing myself.”

“He emerged from the bushes and attacked her?”

The boss sighed, “He clearly does not know the rules. You cross my family, and you don’t live to see tomorrow.”

Franz’s mind was cast back to what Shady Palm had told him; the pony mafia were after him. The gangster was looking for him, but instead he found the changeling. “I don’t think he was the one who did it.”

“What do you mean?” His tone implied that he was losing patience.

Franz pulled back his sleeve and revealed his bandaged arm. “A tourist didn’t do this. I talked with him; he couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“The answer is much simpler. It was a changeling.”

“Changeling? The one that has the press spun into a fury?”

“I had the luck of running into him myself. I do not wear these bandages as an expression of my passion for fashion.”

He closed his eyes and folded his arms, “A changeling? I suppose that would explain how deep the injury was. No pony teeth that I’ve ever seen could leave a cut like that…”

“As it happens, I’m looking for him myself. It’s the only way I’ll figure out what’s wrong with my arm. Has your daughter been suffering from an infection?”

The mafia boss frowned, “Thankfully not. She was merely struck with a fever for a brief spell.”

“This is a lot more than just a fever. I need to find him, and fast. If I could find Shady again, I could ask him if he bumped into the changeling. It might explain why he took on his appearance.”

“Hm.”

“I need him alive.”

“I can’t accept that.”

“I can do you one better. As soon as I get what I want, he’ll be as good as dead with what I know.”

“And what do you know, exactly?”

“Something that they don’t want me to know. Something that kept me alive when I wandered into enemy territory. They can’t kill me, and I can’t let you kill him.”

“That is a matter of who finds him first.”

Franz wanted out of this room as soon as possible. He couldn’t reveal any more to this man. He was getting tangled with a suspicious character. “At least stop chasing Shady Palm, the tourist, I’m worried that he is hiding in a dumpster somewhere.”

“If I can confirm this changeling theory of yours, I will call off my boys.” He smirked, “If you can come here with proof, I will do the same. My name is Don Donovan.”

What that his name, or his rank? The mysteries of pony names were always eluding Franz.

“Okay Don. I will see what I can do.”

“I like a reasonable stallion; you have your head screwed on straight. Heck, if you find that piece of garbage for me – I’ll pay you.”

“I’ll worry about my arm first.” Franz stood from the chair and seeing that none of them moved to stop him, headed back to the stairway. 

“Have a good one!” Don cackled. 

Franz was not having a good one.