Darkness. It was always dark when the exercises began. Two months in the Hive, and I’d regained so much strength. It was nice to feel actual muscle in my arms and legs again, nice to look down at myself and see something of strength and stability, and not something that brought up memories of Holocaust documentaries: you know the ones. Best part was, it wasn’t the only thing the changelings had granted me.

Something rustled to my left. I drew the massive club I’d fashioned. Nothing special, just a stick from one of the scraggly, dying trees out on the surface which I’d carved down. Not the best weapon, but suitable for my purposes.

That sound came again: the beating of wings through the still air. Something deep inside of me that I’d only recently discovered grinned. I raised my club, and as the wings approached, I gave it a swing, feeling some satisfaction from the heft of a body slamming against the end of my club.

I heard a grunt, a curse uttered in the changelings’ strange, chittering language, and then a couple more wing beats came at me from my sides. I ducked, allowing my attackers to slam into each other mid-air, then I wrapped my powerful arms around them and wrestled them to the ground.

“Enough!” A regal voice boomed from above, and suddenly the cavern’s lights cast the room into a light-green glow. I smiled. Another exercise down, another victory chalked up for me. Chrysalis strode into view from some platform set high up in the wall, gazing down at us, or more specifically, at me. My opponents were a little too unconscious to do much gazing back.

The Queen grinned that razor-filled smile down at me. “Another well-managed fight and a well-earned victory. Well done, my pet.”

That was the only downside to my new life in the Hive. Though I didn’t mention it, some small part of me simmered and burned every time she referred to me as her pet, but I kept it hidden well. Repressing emotions was just one of the many talents I picked up thanks to my ‘reception’ in Equestria.

I sank to one knee and bowed. “Thank you, my Queen.”

She flittered down from her perch and landed next to me. “Speaking of,” she said. “I don’t suppose you had some idea of how to augment your abilities, would you? Something perhaps from your world?”

I looked away, frowning for a second. I was about to point out that I was never a warrior back on my world, but then a few things came back to me. I’m not sure if it was the mind-enhancing mushrooms I knew the Queen had been sneaking into my food (she thought I haven’t noticed), but the chemical formula for a certain little game-changing substance came to mind, as well as a few History Channel specials on the function of muskets and flintlocks.

“Actually, my Queen,” I whispered, a grin matching hers spreading across my face. “Now that you mention it…”

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Canterlot. My God, I thought I’d never see this city again. It’s been five years since that day. Five years since the last truly happy day of my life. Five years since I walked out of this city with the belief that, for once, everything was going to be absolutely wonderful.

I was so stupid.

Back then, seeing a cloud of changelings descend upon Canterlot might have forced me into action. I might have gone to ground, maybe tried helping escort some ponies to safety amongst the marauding bands of changeling soldiers roving the streets, and the flashes of green energy that signified another pony bound in changeling goop, and the flaming parapets. I wouldn’t be able to do much, but I’d do something for these little shits. Now, my heart leaps with joy at the sight. Finally, after five long, miserable years, justice is being served. Finally, the monument to hypocrisy that is Equestria is being burnt to the ground, and I get to help it along.

I spy a mare galloping along the streets below, a young colt perched on her back, clenching her mane. I grimace. This is the one part I’m not gonna enjoy. Sure, these ponies would probably be chucking rocks at my head if the situation was just a bit different, but still, it’s not like that’s their fault. I blame the system that created this hypocritical line of thinking, I’m not gonna blame them for the way they were raised.

I better get involved before those two hurt themselves. I’ve seen the show, and I know how ponies react in perilous situations. Odds are, mommy pony would run right off a cliff if she was allowed to go on, or she might try to fight her way out of a changeling cordon, which could end badly for everybody. That foal doesn’t deserve to see mommy get beat up for acting on her instincts.

I clamber down from my perch off Canterlot Castle, using an ivy-covered trellis as a ladder. I land in the gardens and make sure my musket is still secure on my back. No need for it here, even if it’s just filled with stun rounds. Again, baby pony doesn’t need to watch mommy go down, screaming in pain with a few slivers of rubber in her flank, funny as that would probably be.

I step out into the street with a couple handfuls of what I call “Gak Grenades.” That goo the changelings have, as it turns out, can be formed into potent hand grenades pretty easily. A hard outer shell filled with super-compressed changeling goo. Just twist off the top, give it a toss, and you can glue somepony down as easily as any changeling soldier. I aim for mama pony’s legs as she gallops right on by. She doesn’t even give me a second look in her panic. One toss, and she makes a sudden pause, her front hooves scrambling desperately as if she just doesn’t want to accept she’s caught, her hind legs now secured to the road in a hardened pile of green goop.

“C-c’mon mom, g-get up!” The foal on her back begs as she scrambles in a panicked bid for freedom. My shadow falls over them both. The foal swallows visibly and turns his little, brown eyes up to me, and they widen in fear.

Welp, fear’s a lot better than a rock to the back of the head, I’ll say that much.

“M-mama?” The colt asks, and finally the mare twists in place, her eyes going wide. In a flash, she snatches the kid up and squeezes him in behind her head, as if to hide him. I would have the mother of all deadpan looks on me right now if it wasn’t for the mask.

“Button,” mama pony whispers. “Button, run.”

“I-I’m not leaving you, mama,” he whispers from behind her head.

Oh, how touching. Of course they need to save each other from the horrible monster, right? Whatever. Either way, I stoop next to her and scoop little pony up. Guy’s pretty cute, has this little propeller hat and a messy, orange mane and everything. Mama pony starts screaming at me to let him go, and he just sits in my hands, frozen absolutely still in fear. I up the creepy factor a little bit, ignoring the shrill cries from mama pony, and stroke little Button’s hair. He falls unconscious in my grasp.

I chuckle and lay him next to mama, sticking him to her belly with another Gak Grenade. He’s so small the resulting ball of phlegm covers his entire body from the neck down, but mama pony doesn’t care, she just wraps him up and starts sobbing and crying, rocking back and forth with him in her grasp while nuzzling his exposed head.

I sigh and stand again, continuing my trek down the road. I’ve wasted enough time here. I’ve got a date to keep with six very special little ponies. Oh, we are going to have a LOT to discuss once the flag of Equestria falls. I hurry along the roads at a dead clip, lost in imagining the looks on their stupid little faces when they see what I have planned. I’m so lost in my thoughts and own anticipation for this long-overdue meeting that I almost stumble right over a squad of changeling guards making their way through the streets.

“General!” All five changelings stand and salute.

“Back to your assignments,” I hiss warningly as I stride past.

“At once, sir!” The changelings practically walk over one another, scrambling to get back to their hooves, when a thought occurs to me.

“You there!” I point to the guy in back. The entire squad pauses, turning back to me, eyes wide in fear. The guy I’m pointing to looks to his sides, then with a quivering hoof, points to himself with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“Yes, you,” I sigh, waving my hand impatiently. “The rest of you, carry on.”

The group looks at the younger stallion I pointed to with pity, and I think I hear some muttered words of condolences, then they run off. The remaining changeling quivers in his chitin. Okay, I will be the first to admit I might have gone overboard with their indoctrination back when I first became general, I’m working on my image, alright?

I lean down next to him. “Down the road, there’s a mare and her colt glued to the ground. I wantcha to take care of them, okay? Make sure they get food and water and that they’re gonna be fine until we start keeping track of ponies for the occupation, you got it?” My tone sinks. “And in case you’re wondering: yes, this does mean I’m holding you personally responsible for their well-being.”

The changeling nods in fear, nearly dropping his spear, then dashes off down the street in the direction I indicated. His wings flap as fast as they can, and I chuckle. He’s probably gonna scare the crap out of mommy and sonny pony when he gets there, but they’ll be alright. Which is good. The only ponies who should suffer during the changelings’ reign are down the street, on the bridge leading to the royal vaults. Well, them and a certain other little village with a penchant for chucking rocks at defenseless creatures, but one thing at a time.

I reach a small rise in the road, and nearly get knocked back off my feet. It is the exact same scene from the Royal Wedding: the six gathered on the bridge, the one chokepoint they were guaranteed to use on their way to the royal archives, completely surrounded by changelings as they fought wildly. Pinkie’s party cannon, the Twi-Machine gun, Fluttershy basically stumbling around and beating up changelings by acting like a stumbling block, all with one excellent little addition…

A tidal wave of chocolate milk inundates one end of the bridge, washing out an entire platoon of changelings. At the same time, an army of candy-striped flies descends from the air, led by Discord riding a chariot of cookies, dressed in Braveheart paint.

“They may take oor lands! But they’ll nevah take orr fraydom!” He bellows, working his army up into a frenzy as they slice a hole through the cloud of changelings inundating the bridge. Once upon a time, a scene like this would have made me drop to my knees and thank God I was a brony. Once upon a beautiful time.

Welp, time to ruin everypony’s day.

Grabbing the musket off my back, I jog up to a decent position just overlooking the bridge, a small rise maybe fifty feet from the highest crest of the first chocolate milk wave. This is, of course, no coincidence. My scouts spent a very long time finding the perfect position for my musket and me. At this distance, it’s almost impossible to be accurate with a single-shot weapon, but of course I don’t have to be accurate. I just have to be distracting. Buckshot’ll handle that just fine.

I go prone and aim, my breath calming, my hands rock-steady. At least, at first. Then I catch sight of the cyan-colored mare at the other end of my muzzle, and my hands start twitching, my heart racing. Fucking bitch. This fucking bitch right here, preaching loyalty and staying true to yourself in between blasting me for funnies, better hope I don’t get my hands on her I’ll twist your fucking wings off and ram them up your tight little ass, maybe set them on fire too, give you a little taste of that sort of pain ripping through your…

My first shot sends up a smattering of dust at Rainbow Dash’s hooves. She looks around, eyes wide, but by then I’ve ducked down, loading up my next shot. The distraction is almost enough to make her miss the changeling taking a swing at her. Almost.

I rise a few feet to the right of my first position, now behind a rock outcropping. This time when I squeeze the trigger, Applejack suddenly whirls around, clenching her flanks, her mouth in a sudden “oh” of pain. Oh Applejack, those taut little muscles have bought me so much more pain than that little sting. I have three broken ribs which can attest to that. Fucking cock-sucking cunt, gave that bitch some buckshot. Bitches love buckshot. Especially evil little whores that annihilate people’s ribcage for trying to get a little meal to hold the hunger off a little longer THAT’S ALL I EVER WANTED TO DO YOU LITTLE…

I clench my fists. Unclench them. Breathe. Can’t lose it now. Too close to throw it away on a temper tantrum. My next shot is for Twilight. Of all of them, she might be my biggest target. The others might have done more to me directly, might have abused me verbally and physically, but she was the source of it all. If it wasn’t for her, I might have had a chance. If it wasn’t for her, I might still have pulled through okay, might have found some menial job to at least keep clothes on my back and a roof over my head. If…if it wasn’t for her…I…

I blink back the tears as that old fist of rage clenches in my stomach. “I could’ve been happy, you bitch,” I hiss. I hit her dead on the cutie mark, and can you blame me? Damn thing’s like a target. Don’t know why I never noticed that before.

Twilight’s legs buckle, and she limps away, finally wising up that something else is going on. Right on time, too. Pinkie turns to Twilight. Twilight nods. Pinkie grins. I grin. Yep, right on time.

“Changelings!” Twilight bellows. “I’d like to welcome you…to taste the Rainbow!”

I suppress a snicker. Really? Taste the rainbow? That’s the line she goes with while unleashing an impossibly old power born of ancient harmonious magics? Well, she was a little nerd after all, not a writer or anything like that. She’s gonna have to hire a speechwriter someday. Assuming, of course, that I ever let her make a speech again. And that someday I don’t tear her tongue out for a lark.

All at once, the six mares’ coats shimmer with magic. They all rise off their hooves, their eyes closing as the air literally sparkles around them, their manes going all super-Saiyan. I allow myself to grin again once I realize I’m still wearing a mask. They think they’ve won. They think that little feint for the Elements has drawn all the changelings right into the heart of some Rainbow-Power blast, even though everypony saw Tirek’s attack from every corner of the world and we all know the Elements are locked back up in the Tree of Harmony. They’re playing right into my hand.

I holster the musket again, striding over to the center of the bridge, taking my dear sweet time. I know how this works. Magical power-up sequences take forever, that’s a fact of any animated series. Now, it’s just a matter of pulling off my part. I reach into a hidden pocket sewn into my tunic, pulling out a stone so black it seems to absorb light from the air around it, creating a radiating dark hue in the around it. Touching it directly fills my skull with this eerie hum, making my teeth chatter.

Three months. It took changeling mages three months of study and work to come up with this object once we learned the Elements themselves were no longer in play, but that some new “Rainbow Power” had taken their place. Fortunately, much of the same magic that went into crafting the rock for the Elements was transferred right over into this rock. Now, here’s hoping it works. Everything depends on a little rock being able to focus and redirect a tidal wave of magic that, even now, is revving up into a second hum that’s filling the backs of everypony’s skull, joining the harmonic already in my head.

As the power charges into a great, rushing wind that circles the ponies, Discord peers over his shoulder at me. I’m probably quite the sight, one little monkey standing against the power of magic itself. It’s actually enough to make him sit up on his bug. And do a spit-take. And peer over his shades. Wow, am I really that fucked-up looking? That I can get a reaction like that from the God of Chaos himself?

“Jason!?” He gasps. Then a tsunami of magic strikes me dead-center.

I will admit: it’s a nice feeling. All that magic and power circling me, filling me. It’s like that feeling you get when you stand up too fast and get all light-headed, only it’s in my chest too, making me feel like I could just up and float away. Then the stone kicks in, runes from ages long forgotten glowing so brightly I can see the changelings around me shield my eyes, and it sucks all that magic in with a little ‘twhup’ sound.

The six ponies all drop back to the ground, gazing at me curiously. I grin as I raise the stone above my head. They’ve used their magic up for that one shot, and now that shot is mine.

“What is…” Sparkle-butt starts. I react before she can say or do anything else. With the stone over my head, I mutter a couple quick incantations that sound a bit like some bastardized Celtic, combined with whatever crazy crap the Vikings spoke. In a flash of blinding light my arm becomes a cannon, all that magic combined in the stone ripping out in a massive, wide-spread beam that forces me to my knees with the recoil. The ponies gasp in horror as the beam arcs over their heads, whipping through their manes, missing them entirely to strike Discord right in the face.

“JASON, WAI…” he starts as the beam of pure magic inundates him like a flash flood. The ponies are all so busy checking themselves over that for a few minutes, they don’t even realize what’s happening. It takes Fluttershy actually turning around and gasping for them to even notice one of their supposed “friends” is in the middle of enough magic to blot out the sun.

“Discord!” She gasps, taking wing and fluttering after him, as if she sought to dive into the middle of that beam of pure energy. Rainbow Dash holds her back, of course, being stronger and much faster. Discord’s final wails pierce the heavens, then the magic stops. The roaring in my ears and the hum of pure energy ends, and it’s like surfacing after spending too long underwater. For a moment, there’s nothing but the quiet in the wake of that hum, and finally, Discord’s stone body hits the ground. Without the magic suspending it, it’s just a statue now, and it hits with a crack so loud I think they hear it in the Crystal Empire.

Discord’s body is frozen in a gasp of horror, his arms held out in front of him, his wings tucked in, his body curled as if to absorb the shock. In his last moments, he had apparently attempted to stop the tidal wave of magic with his bare hands, like beachgoers that see tsunamis coming and hold their hands up in front of them, as if that might help at all. The end result was every bit as futile. He’s trapped in stone, and this time there isn’t a damn thing the ponies can do about it.

“Discord!” Fluttershy screeches, galloping to the statue’s side. She stomps on it with her hooves, begging and crying and pleading for the draconequus to get up again. It would be utterly tragic if she had ever cried for me like that, little whore. Caring more for her pets than she does another sentient being. In a way though, I do feel bad for the guy. He’d never pulled any of the crap Twilight and her cronies had, and he’d been the only one to recognize me my entire time here. Even Celestia had drawn a blank on seeing me. Still, he was too much of a wildcard to remain free, and his stoning had also drained the Element Bearers of their Rainbow Power. Now, they were totally helpless against the changeling hordes sent to secure them, binding wings and horns in goop to ensure maximum containment. Fluttershy is the last, dragged from her kneeling position next to Discord to have her wings wrapped in layers of the stuff.

When it’s all over, I breathe in, and breathe out. I did it. These little ponies bought nothing but pain and misery for me over three years of hell, and now, I’ve defeated them. I’m shaking so hard that I have to clench my fists to stop myself. The effect is perfect, making Fluttershy and Pinkie flinch back, expecting a blow. I beat them. I finally beat them! Do you hear me!? I beat you! I win, just this once! Me!

I raise my fist to the changelings around me. The nearest commander lands at my side with a loud buzz. “The High-General says you are to follow us back to the palace,” he announces to the ponies, the weird, layered hissing in his voice making even that small sentence sound threatening. “No sudden movements: any attempt at escape or rebellion will be punished severely.”

Sparkle-butt is the only one to meet my gaze, glaring defiantly into the darkened lenses of my mask. The others are either busy consoling their friends or shivering and trying to hide behind their manes (guess who belonged to that last group). That’s alright. They’ll learn in the coming days, they’ll all fucking learn.