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.

Next Chapter: Chapter 4: Passion for the Fashion Estimated time remaining: 11 Minutes