A small, pale child walked behind a tall, bearded man. The kid was meager, but still walked with his head high and back straight. His white t-shirt was worn, dotted with tiny holes that could easily grow out to a noticeable size. His child-sized jeans were loose around his waist, held only by a rather large leather belt.

The man he followed was tall and thick. The man was well-defined with muscles all over his body, with hardly any fat layering over it. Of course, it was difficult to see that through the jeans and leather coat that draped down past his waist. The sturdy, square face of his father was there, even if the child could not see it.

The two walked away from the large, two-story building that the child resented. Not for its intents or purposes, but instead, for some of the other children its purposes are for. To the child, some of the other children were vermin. Some of them made fun of his accent all the time; Others, of his lack of 'colorful' clothing, his short, militarized haircut, or even his 'barf green' backpack.

It was earthy green. But that hardly mattered to him.

“So Kes,” the older man began, with a deep Russian voice that could make an American soldier's spine shiver, “did you fight today?” He asked, going directly for the answer he wants to hear.

“No.” Kestral replied, his voice sounding like a mix between Russian and Midland American, “I got away today.”

“No? What happened?” The man led on.

“I saw Charlie in the front door, so I ran out. Then I went to the playground and went in the back.”

“I saw that!” The man said it with excitement, as if it were good news. “You are a little track star. And you climb fence like pro!” The man sometimes spoke with what most Americans described as 'broken' English, though being his son, Kestral could understand perfectly well.

“Thanks. I just wish he would stop trying to hurt me.”

The man looked back at Kestral with a twinkle in his eye. “You know, you could make him do that. Just beat him up like you practice in taekwondo.”

“Father. You know why I don't want to.” Kestral sounded as if he was trying to scold his dad, but it only came off as annoyed.

“Yes...I suppose I do. Giving people a chance to learn before you 'correct' them is...a noble goal, I guess. But do not be mistaken that it is the only reason he hasn't learn yet.” The firm voice told Kestral that his father was quite set on his words being the truth, and he dared not question his father on such a thing. He only wished that his father would understand that they were not quite eye-to-eye on the matter.

“Yes, father. I just don't want to be in trouble with the school like he is.”

“Please! People these days are pansies. If you want to get something done, you must do it yourself. If you want to prevent an attack, then you must prove you are as strong as the attacker! How do you think the Cold War was won, hmm? I was not old enough to be in it, but I truly learned from my history. And your uncle-”

Kestral stopped listening as his father went on. He just watched as the two passed drab building after building, with no real order. Some were small apartments, with a playground built next to them. Others were businesses that thrived when right next to residential areas. A strip mall was in the beginning of its construction, and none knew if it was a curse or a blessing.

They walked into one of the editions, and to the apartment building placed next to its entrance.

“So what do you think?” His father asked.

“Huh?”

“The beers, I mean. Not the hunting.”

Kestral was a bit confused, but connected the dots rather quickly. “Oh. No, I don't want that.” He found it odd that his father would actively push Kestral to drink, in spite of the laws in America.

“You know, when I was in Ufa, beer was considered a 'soft drink'. It is safe to drink, son.”

The two entered the apartment and went directly for the elevator. A smile from the front desk told them that nothing was wrong, so they continued. “I know,” Kestral replied in a whisper, “but I just don't like the taste. And it burns my throat.” They entered and used the key for the top floor.

“Oh, I know. But once you get used to the weak American alcohol here, you can drink the real alcohol. Like vodka. Straight from bottle.” Kestral nearly gagged at the thought. If his father could do it, though, he probably could as well. “Besides. Once you get used to it, the burning goes away. Mostly.”

The two sat in silence for a while, counting the pings of the elevator that told them how many floors up they were. Soon enough they were at the top, with 'pent' being typed out on the screen in the corner of the elevator. As the two walked out, Kestral's father gave him a sad look.

“Son, I want to ask. Do you know why I tell you all these things, and stories, and try to teach you?”

He nodded. “Because you want me to be smart, and to do things right.”

His father gave a sad smile, then shook his head gently. “No, son. I teach you these things because you are my family. You are all I am.” He looked away, refusing to show the soft look that took over the once stern face. “Friends are there to protect you for a time. Family protects you forever. When I am dead and gone, I want to rest, knowing I gave you everything I could have to help you in life.”

Kestral thought about how harsh his father was sometimes, and began to understand why the man was that way. He hugged his father from the side tight.

“Thanks, dad.” Was all he could give.

Kestral could feel his arms and legs shifting quickly, and his vision go black. Right before he slipped back into consciousness, he heard a feminine voice call out to no one in particular.

“Well this is pretty tame for a nightmare.”

Mayor Mare tapped her hoof incessantly. Her stomach growled, loud enough to fill the midday silence of her office. She stood in the doorway, waiting for Longsword to come back with news on the next 'situation' of that week, and more importantly, to come back with some lunch.

A second growl went perfectly in sync with the squeak on the door, revealing the officer himself, with two paper bags in his telekinetic grasp. While she her mouth watered at the sight and smell of a grilled tomato and cheese sandwich, the stern look he had told Mare that he was anything but happy.

“Was it bad?” She asked. A simple nod was his reply, and she already knew what was about to happen. She closed her office door and nodded her head to the secretary to let her know not to disturb them. After that, she followed Longsword into his office and closed the door, leaving them alone. Mare took a seat in front of his desk -something she did not do often- and began opening the paper bag presented before her.

They both opened their items in silence, neither truly wanting to talk about how gruesome the past two nights had been. They unwrapped the paper around their sandwiches and each began their meal.

“So what are the facts?” She started, knowing that she would need to begin somewhere.

“So far,” he swallowed quickly to open his airway, “another one dead, changeling, replacing someone, and that new pod design.”

That sent her into mild confusion. “New pod design?” She inquired.

“To hold changelings and ponies alike, for different reasons. We didn't see these new ones until yesterday, and we can't figure out if their special or not.”

Mare found it quite odd that two months after the attack is when the changelings would pull off variation in their habitual creations, but she knew little about them, so it may have just been normal. “What about the cause of death? Is it the same as yesterday's?”

He shook his head sternly. “Only one so far, and it was a blade. Bug gave the killer a fight, too.”

Mare looked at the stallion expectantly. “Fight?”

“Yeah. Couple drops of blood -well, red blood- were on the floor, but they didn't lead anywhere, so either he disappeared on the spot, or he was prepared to deal with wounds. Either way points more towards a professional at this.” He gave Mare a stern look, as if it just went from bad to worse.

“Or whoever it was simply covered it, knowing it would give away their route.”

“Not likely.” He retorted. “Most amateurs don't care where the blood is going, just that it's leaving them. And he just left the exit path wide open with the charred door on one of the houses.”

“Are you kidding me?” She choked her words down to a whisper. “We have a killer on the loose and he doesn't even know how to use a doorknob?”

“It was locked, actually. Since it was burned open we can almost assume that he has a unicorn accomplice.”

“Almost?” Her eyebrow shot up.

“Well,” he shifted a little in his seat, “there's the chance that it was burned by a torch, or something of the nature, but it would have more than likely spread, so we're going with unicorn accomplice.”

“How do we knew it's not just a unicorn? It would explain how he can get away quickly.”

“Because our only witness testifies that she never saw a unicorn.”

Mare sat with her mouth agape. “Witness? What did she see?”

Longsword tried to relax his shoulders, as if what his words held were nothing more that fanciful thinking. “She thinks that... she saw a human.”

Mare's heart raced a little, before settling back down. She half smiled at the officer. “A human? Really?”

He didn't laugh or snicker like she thought he would. He simply kept his face straight. “It's all I have to go on. To make it worse, two days ago a mare named 'Roseluck' claimed she was nearly assaulted by a human.”

That made Mare's heart deflate. If things didn't settle soon, it would end up like the Zecora incident, but with less hiding and more swordplay. It didn't help that she would have to make an announcement to the town about the attacks. And the thieving for that matter. Of course, if this so called 'human' was skulking in the shadows so much, he may not have been openly violent, and was just reserved about certain creatures.

“Also,” Longsword continued, “I found these.” He magicked couple pieces of metal onto his desk, allowing Mare a look. She stared in dismay at the copper-colored fragments before her. “I went through the CDO bin to find anything, and I found a similar object,” he pulled out the third piece and placed it next to the others, “but couldn't find the file. Care to tell me if there's a story to it?”

“It's, uh... Fluttershy found it in her food two days ago. She claims one of her animals may have put it in there.”

“A possible story. But these two,” he motioned to the metallic pieces, “appeared to have entered the bodies of the changelings at high velocity. High enough to go all the way through theirs skulls.”

If what he said was true it would mean a potential threat to the Elements of Harmony. “Aren't those from the attack the guards investigated last night!? Why wasn't I informed of it this morning?”

He waved his hoof. “I was going back and seeing if I missed anything. All damn morning. You're lucky I remembered today was my turn to get lunch.” He offered a wink to try to lighten the mood, but it helped little.

Mare sat and pondered what she should do. It was confusing, to say the least, how the attacker was willing to kill off changelings like they were soulless animals, but wouldn't kill a pony to protect himself. “What do you propose we do about this?” She asked, open to ideas.

“Well,” he took a deep breath, “The first thing is to put this up on the bulletin board. I'd say put fifty bits for information that is of use, and make the town aware of thieving and nefarious activity. I would wait until the weekend to make an announcement for this. The human thing isn't even worth mentioning until we have some kind of proof, so I’m going to go get a... an acquaintance to help me with that part. You know how ponies panic with their moderate xenophobia.”

“Are you sure we should wait to tell the town? They won't be happy if they found out we stalled on this.”

“Ponies aren't immediately in danger, since the attacker seems to go for changelings, and doesn't care to 'dispose of' witnesses. The only ones in danger are the ones that will just jump to a new home in a different body, whenever they feel threatened, so I don't feel there is much point to just warning the changelings ahead of time.”

She nodded, and stood up. “Okay, I’ll let the staff know that we're holding a town meeting on Saturday. But if there is even a single pony hurt by this thief, I will call the meeting immediately.” She saw him give a curt nod as she opened the door and walked out.

She was going to need a lot of posters to go around town.