"Mike and the Censations. Spelled with a C everybody." Travis lulled, feet up on his desk, leaning back in his chair that creaked noisily as his eyes rolled back, wiping his face off with one hand moving from his forehead to his chin.

Then he yawned and said "Diamond City Radio, I've been your host. Travis Lonely Miles. I'l letting the music run for a bit, so come give a knock on my door in a few hours if anyone hears the song repeat for the fifth time. I gotta sleep too, Diamond City, there's nothing I can do about that..."

October 27th, 2287
5:59 A.M.

"<Nate, wake up.>"

His eyes were open in an instant. Nate leaned forward and recoiled from seeing himself offering a hand up. Falling back against the oak hull, he put one hand out and pushed himself up.

"Meathead, what are you doing? Why are you me? What time is it?" He asked, looking down at his Pip-Boy. It was 6:00 in the morning. "We were suppose to meet Stockton at the Church!" He said urgently, trying to push past himself.

"Relax! I handled it. I got the parts for the ship too!" Meathead put both hands out, palms facing him.

Meathead's form was an exact duplicate of Nate himself, black hair, green eyes, prominent chin, wearing a blue vault suit and empty holster.

Nate shook his head and rubbed his eyes to adjust to the low-light below deck.

The as his senses came to him, he made to swallow, but his throat was dry.

"What? What did you do?" Nate asked.

"<Let me explain. Remember when Stockton asked if you had a Geiger counter and you said yours was in the shop?>"

"Yeah. I thought he was joking cause I showed him the pip-boy on my arm."

"<He wasn't joking.>"

Nate's head tilted forward, looking the duplicate of himself in the eye. Tittered left and right, "What?" He asked, standing up.

"Tell me what happened." Confusion plain on Nate's face, Meathead inhaled to ready himself.

"<Let me show you. What I intend to do is show you everything I saw, felt, and sensed. All you need to do is have an open mind.>"

Nate's eyes narrowed, and the apprehension was still there, he looked at his own hand being offered. The mirror reflection of himself was spot on, here was a second Nate talking to the first. He was looking at himself, basically a duplicate. A willing pet who wanted to do something for his owner.

Nate didn't know what to expect.

A shock, a jolt of electricity, a joy buzzer type of gag where his hand shook and jerked, but there wasn't.
He was expecting some sort of hell to go through to get what he wanted, and there was no suffering.

He blinked twice, and then the memories came to him as an afterthought.

His heart beat heavily in his chest, thumping louder and louder until Nate realized he needed to breathe or asphyxiate there on the spot. The only problem was sorting through all the new information.

Pulling in a deep ragged breath after nearly two minutes, Nate was swaying on his feet.

"Did that really happen?" Nate asked.

\111/

October 27th, 2287.
11:07 P.M.

Seven Hours Ago.

The Cambridge church stood with a lean to the left, its roof falling in, and the pews partially buried in debris. The front door was wide open, and Old Man Stockton was waving his right hand towards H2-22.

H2-22 looked like any other human, hair that came to his eyes, it was matted with sweat, and appeared greasy from not showering recently. He wore a white shirt, a green and white cross stitch button up, and then a blue denim jacket over it with a blue bandanna tied around his neck.

Only, Meathead knew there was no emotion coming from the synth disguised as a man, while as Old Man Stockton was a bundle of paranoia, relief, stress, fear, and joy that another night would soon be behind him.

Nate tried to listen to the sound of H2-22's voice to see if he could tell the difference between a human and a synth's voice, but there was no way to be sure.

H2-22 said the words, "Wow, another human who's happy to meet me."

Nate's brain picked apart the words, and it was apparent that for a synth who didn't even have a cover name yet, that the accent and vocabulary gave H2-22 away.

"Remember what I told you, H2. I'll fire up the signal." Stockton warned, he was cautious, on edge. Tense and nervous that at any moment the world would end for him.

Outside the church, from a distance they could hear a gunfight, the pop, pop, pop of a pistol going off, and then the automatic fire of a gun along side it. Nate's neck was tense, and his nerves felt pinched.

"Keep H2 safe, someone will be here shortly." Stockton left after lighting the lantern, and then a black man wearing a white shirt, leather jacket and jeans arrived three minutes later.

"Who are you?" the man asked, looking Nate up and down. "I don't know you."

"Did you bring a Geiger counter?" Nate asked.

The man snapped his fingers and pointed his pointer finger at him and cracked a smile. "Good call. Mine's in the shop. What's your name?" He realized that it was a call sign. A coded message that spies and agents used to identify other members of the same faction.

Nate found it out by accident when Old Man Stockton asked him the marketplace, and they didn't realize it until then.

Stockton, H2-22, and the newcomer all thought Nate was with them.

Disguised as Nate, Meathead kept his mouth shut like he should've in that situation and nodded his head.

"The Handler." Nate replied.

"High Rise. Did you just join?" He asked, Nate dodged the question by pointing at H2-22, and turning his head to him.

"Life story later, what are we doing with him?" Nate asked.

High Rise followed Nate's direction and focused on H2-22. "Hey, you. Are you alright?"

H2-22 spoke in a soft voice, like he lost his voice and it was difficult for him to talk loud. "A little rattled, but I've never been better. The other man said I shouldn't talk to much."

High Rise stood up straighter, "He told you right, H2. We'll get you a new name, a new face, but we'll get to that." Turning back to Nate, and eyeing Justice the 10 gauge shotgun in his hands, he said, "Listen, there's more than a few raiders behind me. Can I count on you for some help?"

Nate nodded once, but he wanted to say something else. The whole memory sharing process was disjointed, he remembered the experience, but didn't remember hearing the words come out of his own mouth.

High Rise followed up with, "We need to get H2 to Ticonderoga Plaza. My home. A lot of synths fresh off the boat crash there until we can smuggle them out of the Commonwealth."

It took all of Nate's mental capacity to realize that he wasn't the one who acted this way, it was Meathead. He was only remembering a memory.

High Rise was genuine, human, the emotions coming off of him were reserved towards Nate, but gradually more accepting for how curt and down to business he was being towards the situation.

Nate's hand shot out and grabbed High Rise by the collar. "Are you insane? Do you know what you just said out loud!? Do you know how many people could've heard?! Lead on, if the Institute doesn't already have an army of synths camped right outside the door, listening to our every word! Next time, use code words!" Nate shouted hoarsely, trying to keep his voice from rising, but quiet at the same time.

\111/

October 27th 2287
12:15 A.M.

High Rise lead the way to Ticonderoga Plaza, leading south through Cambridge past Monsignor Plaza, where raiders were ready to shoot at High Rise, but then they jerked their guns upwards when they saw Nate walking behind him, brandishing a shotgun that gleamed in the moonlight.

"Hold up." High Rise said slowing down, fearful of the raiders that spotted them. "Nope. Keep moving." Nate pressed the barrel of the shotgun into the small of High Rise's back and forced him to keep walking "They'll shoot you if you stop." Nate ordered. "Shut up and keep moving." Nate said loudly, readying a .44 magnum revolver with his other left hand. An aura of authority rolled off Nate, High Rise was filled with fear from how deadly Nate sounded, and it was present in his face. The raiders saw this fear, not because of them, but from the man behind him.

These raiders knew who Nate was, he was the crazy vault dweller who took out a whole squad of super mutants and collapsed a seven story building down on top of them. Their fingers were nowhere near the trigger, resting on the guard instead. They didn't want that type of attention.

The cold round bit of metal pressing into High Rise's back made him stand up straight and quickly walk faster to get away from the gun barrel.

They walked past Monsignor Plaza while the raiders inside looking out called to each other. "Do we risk it?" Plenty of them shook their heads no. Whatever the Vault Dweller was doing, let him go, it wasn't worth it.

The road Monsignor Plaza went south, where there was a raised drawbridge leading south into Boston, where they took a right heading west, crossing another bridge past apartment buildings and restaurants to Ticonderoga Plaza.

"Damn...We're here. You scared the shit out of me. I never seen raiders not try to shoot at me. Who are you again?"

"The Handler. As in, I'll handle it."

"Shit. We'll if you ever need bullets, grub, a power nap, take the elevator up to the top of Ticon. The house is yours. Right now, I need to take care of H2." The man who had been quiet the entire time, bringing up the rear looked up at the building, and then inside to the lantern left burning on the receptionist desk.

"High Rise. Next time your out in the field, don't open your mouth. Loose lips sink ships, and you said plenty at the church. You're lucky I'm on your side, because you didn't even start with the call sign either." Nate warned, "It's a good way to get yourself shot, or worse, everyone here exposed." Nate left without hearing High Rise's reply, only him ushering H2-22 into the safehouse.

\111/

"How are you doing this? What am I seeing?" Nate asked Meathead, pointing to his left temple.

"Changelings have a complicated system of predator-prey relationship. We keep our prey alive for months, drawing off emotional energy from them, we encase them in cocoons and bluntly, we draw life energy from them."

Meathead waited for Nate to interject or comment, but when he didn't, Meathead continued talking.

"<We evolved our way of thinking, it was easier to have a changeling slip into the role of someone for a few days, weeks, a month, up to a year, before switching the person and changeling's place again. Then we would return the memories. Changelings realized that after times longer than a year, the people around them noticed the change. They noticed how after such a long time, that they indeed were acting differently than they remembered, so we switched them back and imprinted the memories back to the prey.>"

"<For a prey that's been captured for a few months, it's easy to chalk up their bizarre behavior for a short period of time, people always have their ups and downs, and reintegration isn't as difficult for someone that's been gone less than a year. Their memories aren't as muddled.>"

<I gave you your memory of a single evening, but I've never purposefully gave memories back to a conscious human.>"

"What sort of life forms are on your planet, or where ever you come from?" Nate asked.

"<Too many sentient ones to keep track of...our entire race didn't even come into existence until one thousand years ago...twelve hundred...thirteen hundred years ago now, and the Queen of this new race was still scraping off the mucus membrane of its shell when it thought to itself that they were the true image of perfection.>"

"The perfect race? Isn't that a little..."

"<Yes! Nate. Very Vain! It took me living along side humans, and watching and reading your history and looking at all the past representations of what people thought was the pinnacle of perfection at the time throughout a culture that's lived longer than the Changelings for me to realize that perfection is flawed and changeling's can always look perfect. We are vain. So vain, that we realize our vanity, and can only limit ourselves in our actions through self-control. The Queen that was first born, was vain. She thought she was perfect, because she could look like anyone, anything, any person, any body. She could look like the Vetruvian man, with a perfect face and perfect body, so what was there to stop her from embodying every depiction of perfection at her own free will?>"

"Nothing."

"<Exactly. Nothing stopped changelings for a long time. And we thought we were perfect, for a long time. We thought we were the pinnacle of the world. Even though we were starving, because we didn't need to eat physical food to survive, we needed emotional sustenance, we needed to infiltrate other races and, in our eyes, lower ourselves to the other species on our planet, and fit in with their culture.>"

"So what changed? How did changeling's evolve?"

"<A fucking bleeding heart liberal changeling was born, that's what happened! Not once did this idiot ever have to face the fear of death until he was already the world's bitch! He was a grub! A worm! A fucking baby who should've had his skull dashed against the rocks when he was born! He caused a civil war in changeling society because he was saying things, without any effort behind them. Others picked up his words and carried them. They carried him, they made him leader of a sect of changelings who came out above ground and physically changed to appear more appeasing to the masses who couldn't bear to look at our real forms!>"

Meathead cast off the visage of Nate, back into his black chitin equine form. Long forelegs that looked like they were driftwood being eaten by seaworms, his black jaw mandibles clicking together. Meathead opened his mouth wider, and Nate saw the two sets of jaws, the exterior set, and then an interior set, which partially shocked Nate because this was the first time he saw the inside of Meathead's mouth. He saw Meathead's green tongue and how this other changeling upset things.

"<Those dumb fucks all got what was coming to them, war with everyone who'se ever been wronged by a changeling. Any race on our planet, changeling's have at one point or another, fucked with their culture. We've kidnapped people, Nate. And here comes this bleeding heart who says we should stop and live side by side.>"

Meathead slammed his hoof down onto the ground, "<Of course we should've stopped! No shit! But do you think it's wise to bring up all the tragedies and crimes we've committed during peace talks?! No! The dumb piece of shit king deserved to be skewered because that's exactly what he did! He was a terrible leader who kept on going on and on about changeling tactics, and the ways changeling's would abduct ponies, or gryphons, or minotaurs, dragons, or goddamn Alicorns! Do you think it is wise to lay out all that in front of other races when they first emerged? He wanted to defang us, at the insistence of others! He wanted to take away the only way we could physically defend ourselves in a fight, because he was at such a lofty place, he never once needed to use them! It's like you humans with guns, there's another dozen races on our planet that are all sentient, and can you imagine how utterly enraged and vicious and exploitative they became after they heard this sect of Changelings couldn't defend themselves? Because now everyone could pick out these new changelings.>"

"<It's like a dentist saying 'Okay, I fixed some of your teeth, but not all the way, so that way you have to come back in three months for a checkup so I can make more money off you!' It was like a doctor saying 'Okay, I healed your sickness, but not all the way, so now you need to come back in a few months so I can keep charging you before your healthy! It's like a sleazy mechanic who did work on your car - but not all the way - so now you need to take your car back in and get it worked on again because something else is wrong with it now! THAT DUMB MOTHER FUCKER TOLD EVERYONE WE WERE HUNTING THEM LIKE PREY, and US THE PREDATORS! It was like asking a cow to walk into a butcher store! NO fucking cow here on earth wants to know that it's bound for a slaughter house! So yes! Nate! We evolved our tactics and changed because he exposed our entire system! Gods, he had the combined wrath of every single race descending down on the new changelings because they were dumb enough to open themselves up for so much scrutiny, we were all pinned for hundreds of thousands of kidnappings, disappearances, lost children, creatures and people who up and just fucking died and no one knew where, but the King of the Changelings felt it would be a fantastic idea to admit Changelings in the past were kidnappers and theives! A big giant fuck-you blanket statement to every single one of us black shelled Changelings, because of a...believe this, magic of friendship turned all the changelings in a hive from black to a any pastel color you can think of. They apparently never got past the second chapter of Machiavelli's philosophy! They tried to be good, nice, caring, and bent over for the rest of the world, and got FUCKED for it!>"

<I looked at a lot of your history, Nate, the world's history. Humankind worried about predators for A LONG TIME! The biggest threat were wolves! And it wasn't until they caught them, and bred them to be safer, less aggressive, that they became mankind's companion! So you tell me what happens when there's only one side left after a battle? Who gets to write the history? The victor! As far as I know, I'm the only changeling left, and I will be damned if I didn't let you know this. Tell me what happened to the wolves who purposefully decided they wanted to be dogs.>"

Nate shook his head, "It all sounds like it was a damn mess before you came to Earth, but was deciding to be with me any easier?" Meathead's back legs shook and he growled. Nodding with his teeth clenched together in anger.

"<I say it's better to think this is our only chance in life, but yes, the choice was difficult. Everything lead to this. I mean, you tried your hardest to fight for your country, I did what I could for mine, and now they're both bombed out, but nobody's seem to got on the ball for rebuilding this shithole.>

"Meat, it's Boston...and it was nuked out! What do you expect? New Jersey? Come on."

"<Nate, I can be a wolf. I can be a dog, Nate, I can be you. But I'm not a dumbass who goes around telling every one that I can be both! I see history repeating itself...I see these robots...these synths...who try to look human...but aren't. They need to not identify themselves, because...I've already seen my own species get wiped out because of that!>"

"Then why tell me?" Nate asked.

"<Because, I guarantee, that one day, someone, maybe even a synth, maybe a human like Dr. Chambers will come up with a way to identify humans from synths and insist they be marked. It'll be the precursor to a holocaust, and people could unite in a cause to completely eradicate something that was created by other humans. War never changes, no matter what planet you're on.>" Meathead was anxious, he twisted his neck and until his joints popped, rolling his back legs until those joints popped too. Nate swallowed what Meathead offered him, seeing more and more how they were alike.

"<It makes me so frustrated to see humans falling for the same pitfalls over and over again, but now we're at the same point, Nate. Either let your people be who they are, and identify themselves if they want to, but don't let other's mark them. On our planet, it was the dragons who convinced the changeling who started it all to accept being marked. He was like your Americans who supported the British during the fight for independence. He wore his mark proudly and thought he was going to win. Well...>" Meathead looked up, "<Long live Queen Gynae! Long live her mother! Long live Queen Chrysalis!>" He declared.

\111/

6:47 A.M.

"So this guy High Rise thinks I said all this? He believes it was me who put a shotgun to his back? I would've told him to keep moving, and yeah, told him to shut up about blabbing that type of information. But...who the heck are these guys, anyway?"

"The only other names I've heard, same as you, since coming out of the Vault are the Minutemen, Institute, and the Railroad. The group Tony and Joe were talking about at the bar in Bunker Hill."

"That's a lot to process."

"It's heavy."

Nate nodded, rubbing the side of his head and thinking everything over.

"What happened to the King?"

Meathead turned, his chest rising and falling quickly. "<Probably alive in Equestria, but if that's the case, I'll be sure to live long enough to strangle him. It's the least he deserves.>"

\111/