As of yesterday, we can’t use Silver Sun money anymore. I guess that the royals contacted the griffon Emperor who made their banks freeze our bigger accounts. Of course, that doesn’t mean we’re completely out because zebra banks are still open on the northern coast, but whatever you’re planning is going to take resources we simply can’t afford to move unless we want a pissed off alicorn on our asses, doesn’t exactly matter which one. If the majority of Zebrica wasn’t a wilderness devoid of civilization it would be different, but the zebras aren’t recovering from that stunt you and that changeling wizard pulled off anytime soon.

Anyway, we’ll be resupplying today and hiring a boat that would take us around the west coast past the scorched zone. If we want to recover as much of Stern’s technology cache as possible, we need to do it before the Northern Coalition government creeps back in and we’re going to need some zebrapower. I’m hearing that there are survivors who have crawled out of wherever they avoided Suitie’s control and they are banding together in the less ruined cities. Try not to lead them to us in even more frazzled state than they’re already going to be. They pretty much survived a genocide.

The good part is that Lyam made triplicates of all processes and translations of Silversmith manuals so we’re all busy studying and we should be able to quickly set up the solar generators as well as the small assembler. With raw materials we’re bringing we’ll have a base up and running within a week including the automated farms. Speaking of which, I heard news that ponies got their hooves on some as well and are starting to manufacture them. Is that your doing or did king Beard finally tell the dwarves to go dig themselves and shared the tech himself?

So, lead the scattered survivors to us and we’ll start rebuilding Cloak Town and sending zebras to do the digging. Hopefully the news won’t spread too quickly but with the tech we have we should be able to deal with some minor fleet from the north, although they have enough trouble of their own with the refugees.

To be honest, I’ve always wanted to give being a ruthless warlord a shot. You know, to lounge around in some palace while ordering my hot, muscular zebra slaves to do my bidding.

Just kidding. I’d get bored in a week anyway.

D.S.

Few “wilder” prisoners bare their teeth at Thirteen during the trio’s way to the stairs leading to the lower floors.

“I’ve never had a changeling before,” comments one.

“Wanna hug?” Three spreads his forelegs from Thirteen’s back with a smile, giving the prisoners a pause.

“I didn’t mean you-”

“Get out before the guards arrive or go back to your cells!” the minotaur growls at the ponies with a furious glance backwards.

Unwilling to pick a fight with two changelings and a minotaur, they stop ogling Thirteen and head away through the hall towards the courtyard as the word of mouth about an escape route spreads.

From the few minutes of rushing through the prison, Thirteen has concluded few things. One, most prisoners can’t have been told more about the plan other than that there would be a chance to get out, which means they’ve been running around the prison, taking out wardens instead of flocking towards the shattered courtyard wall. Two, some wardens must have barricaded themselves in the guard room by the main entrance and are waiting for reinforcements thinking they’re keeping the prisoners inside. And three, there’s zero chance that the unicorns who promised to help Three are waiting for them, which means that getting out will be a pain in case the wardens get help soon enough and try to stop them.

“We should pick up the pace,” says Thirteen, running past the minotaur and giving him a smirk, “Just keep looking scary and no one should stand in our way,” the minotaur scowls at her, “Yeah, exactly like that.”

Their easy progress, though, shows her assumption is correct as groups of prisoners always take a long look at the huge minotaur and return to their business, whether it is kicking a warden or trying to loot the place before they inevitably have to escape.

Eventually, they reach the guard room under the only stairs leading to the underground part of the prison where a jumpy pony first gives them a terrified glance before stuttering out:

“Y- You’re with t- the griffon, r- right?”

“You are?” the minotaur stares him down, cracking his neck menacingly.

“I’m- I’m a warden,” he pokes his chest with possibly suicidal courage. Luckily for him, the presence of the two changelings stops the minotaur from simply punching him out, “The griffon said I should keep the door locked but that in case you came I should open. It was just few minutes ago, but then I heard… I heard screaming and screeching.”

“Oh no!” Three sits upright on Thirteen's back, “We have to-”

The minotaur just grabs one of the steel latches barring the door from opening and draws it back. The metal grinding against metal drowns out Three’s message and is quickly followed by the second bar being moved aside and the door opening.

“I can’t stand that catbird, but I did promise to help,” grunts the minotaur.

“Heh,” Thirteen smirks, “I completely understand, but once you meet miss Gem, you won’t regret it.”

“She did say that mister Magpie’s a bit of a grump but that she wouldn’t want anyone else by her side more in case of trouble,” Three nods.

As the door clicks behind the group, the minotaur hammers his fist against it.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I’m supposed to keep this locked,” replies the warden’s desperate voice, “I don’t know what’s locked down there, but I heard stories. Get your friend out as quickly and quietly as you can before anything else notices you. I’ll open the door for you, I swear!”

“You’d better...” growls the minotaur.

“I can’t sense miss Gem,” mutters Thirteen.

“That’s the heavy-duty suppressor she’s fitted with. It makes sensing her or talking to her a pain,” explains Three, “Anyway, we’re supposed to meet her by the interrogation room, so let’s not waste time.”

He jumps off of Thirteen’s back and furrows his brows, turning his head from side to side, his eyes casting two blue cones of light in addition to the pink glimmer of the runes around his fetlocks and neck.

“Lead the way,” the minotaur nods ahead, narrowing his eyes to see in the darkness.

Three heads down the tunnel, the noise of their three sets of hooves echoing through the otherwise silent underground. And yet… it’s as if someone keeps whispering at the edge of their hearing as soon as they relax even a little.

As they reach the end of the tunnel and a sharp turn to the left, Three stops.

“Do you hear anything?” whispers the minotaur.

Three slowly shakes his head.

“This place looks different.”

“Caves look different when there’s no light,” the minotaur shrugs.

“I’m a changeling,” Three looks up at him, making the minotaur shield his face from the glowing eyes, “I can see just fine. The place is different. There should be a T-section here, not a tunnel to the right,” Three closes his eyes, plunging the tunnel into almost complete darkness.

“What are you doing?” whispers Thirteen who is absolutely certain that she’s just heard a crunch and a groan from somewhere. Maybe even… chewing?

With a long breath, Three jumps against the wall to the left and disappears. Unfortunately for Thirteen, so does his hive link.

“What?!” the minotaur raises his fists and presses his back against the nearest wall for cover, “Is that some kind of magic?”

“I don’t know!” Thirteen starts pressing her hooves against various spots on the solid wall Three’s just gone through, “Three! Three!”

Above her head, the minotaur slams his fist against it as well to no avail. Reviewing the last few seconds in her mind, Thirteen closes her eyes, and takes a resolute step against the wall.

“Ow!” she presses her forelegs against her bruised nose after bouncing off of the solid stone.

“I know that our shamans can sometimes make things seem real unless you know for certain they aren’t,” the minotaur helps Thirteen back on her legs, “This might be some emergency spell in case everything goes wrong.”

“Good thinking,” Thirteen nods, “And since I can’t sense Three anymore, I doubt waiting here is going to get us anywhere.”

“Do we return and hold the fort then?”

“No. We can’t leave Three or Magpie wander this place alone, especially with who’s supposed to be here. I’m guessing here, but I doubt an emergency spell can be super complex, last too long, or create illusions of paths that aren’t really there. I think this is just a temporary measure meant to buy time by hiding paths until help arrives,” she smiles at the minotaur giving her a blank stare, “One of the changelings back home is reeeally good at the theory of magic. I can’t cast any spells, but I remember some tidbits from him trying to jam something into my hollow head.”

Thirteen takes a deep breath, scouring her hive memory for a certain goo recipe. A moment later, she goops out several fingernail-sized balls which she presents to the minotaur.

“I’m not all shiny like Three so you might need these,” she whispers, “Here, breathe on one. They’re basically heat-triggered chemical glow sticks. Well, glow balls.”

The minotaur puts the small ball to his mouth and slowly breathes out. As the ball lights up, he smirks. One of these can barely make him see past the palm of his hand, but with the six that Thirteen made… somehow, he should be able to light up a small part of the hallway if needed.

“In case of trouble, can you light up like the little guy?” asks the minotaur, “I won’t be able to see anything if I run out of these.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Thirteen shakes her head, “Just give me few minutes and I’ll be able to make more. We should move, though, because I’m not sure we have more than few minutes.”

“Alright. Whisper anything you see or hear, even if you just think you saw something,” growls the minotaur, “That way we won’t split up.”

Three freezes and holds his breath when he hears a gurgle from a corridor ahead and to the left which he doesn’t recall ever being there before. The groan is followed by the noise of something tearing, more gurgling and grunting, all underlined by non-stop chewing. Contrary to the belief of most who don’t know Three well, he is used all that sneaking and stuff, occasionally being able to surprise even miss One with a tactical hug from the back, so as soon as he realized what happened when the wall closed behind him, he shapeshifted his hooves into soft sneaking pads and headed off to where they’re supposed to meet miss Gem.

“...help...” he can finally make out a word from the gurgling, and that is something from which Three would never run away.

First, he flicks his tail to turn the flashlight mode of his eyes off, leaving them still two pools of teal but without the cones of light. He doesn’t know why his body works the way it works, but he knows it does. Next, his head peeks out from behind the corner, eerie red glow coming from the tunnel reflecting off of his eyes.

An earthpony is crouched over twitching and gurgling mess that at some point used to be a warden judging by the glowing badge lying a short distance further into the tunnel and the tattered remains of a grey warden uniform mixing with blood and chunks of flesh. How can the warden still be alive despite such enormous blood loss is beyond Three, but he’s no medic. Crimson mist seemingly coming from the blood smears and splatters left behind by warden either previously moving or being moved billows and rolls around, bathing the tunnel in the red glow which reveals the earthpony’s coat color to be a streaked mix of red and brown. He looks famished, his ribs clearly outlined and his brown mane on the verge of falling out. His coat is criss-crossed with scars. However, despite the starved visage, when he brings his muzzle full of sharp teeth down to rip out another chunk of the warden’s barrel, his glowing yellow eyes feel full of life and power.

“...let me… die...” wheezes the warden.

“Eventually...” the earthpony breathes out.

For a moment, he loses all feeling in his legs from the horrifying scene before scrunching his face and charging straight forward.

“Meanieeeeee!”

The living chitin bullet that is Three bounces off of a thin barrier made of floating blood with little to no effect on both the earthpony as well as Three who unrolls and jumps back on all fours.

The earthpony only chuckles when Three runs over to him this time without a problem and tries to push him away from the warden to no avail. Three starts slapping the earthpony’s chest, but while he looks like a twig that came to life, he feels immovable.

“Stop that! Let the pony go! Wardens are really nice in this place and they don’t deserve you being mean to them.”

The earthpony clearly knows by now that Three isn’t much of a threat and simply ignores him, ripping another chunk out of the warden whose eyes roll backwards.

“Oh no, you’re not done singing for me yet,” the red mist swirls and drains into the warden, making him couch and croak. Every cough makes more blood splatter around as his lungs visible through the ribs almost picked clean of all flesh twist.

“STOOOOOOOOOOP!” yells Three with yet another attempt at a shove which only makes him himself move backwards, “Hrmph! You can’t beat the power of HUGS!”

“Show me, crunchy,” laughs the earthpony, “Heal him for me or whatnot, make him fight for his life again… and again and again and again.”

Three grits his teeth, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and gives the warden the softest hug that brings warmth even despite the open wounds that would kill anyone else.

“...please no,” croaks the warden, “...I can’t...”

“I know,” whispers Three into his ear, “I know.”

“Huh?” the earthpony steps back when he sees the warden’s mouth creep into a smile. He realizes that his crazy power is failing now that Three’s here, “Oh no, you’re not taking my toys away from me!”

A blade-like tentacle made of blood sprouts out of the pool and hacks down against Three’s back, leaving a deep scratch but not drawing any blood from the changeling. Three nuzzles the warden’s nose, after which the pony finally takes his last breath with a content smile on his muzzle.

Three stands up, looks down on his chest, and tries ineffectively to wipe the blood off.

“Ewww...”

“I guess it’s your turn to replace him then, crunchy,” the earthpony shrugs, his sawtoothed grin widening.

Along with those words, tentacles sprout from every bloodied surface around, all shooting towards Three.

Changeling fact number one - changeling drones aren’t exactly agile or built to be aware of their surroundings like warriors or infiltrators. On the other hole, most changeling drones haven’t been alive for nearly three hundred years while playing tag with the second best warrior in the world on at least weekly basis.

Three avoids the grasp of all of them, which of course doesn’t mean he lands on all fours or that he doesn’t get smacked around. Like an air hockey puck, he slides on the bloody floor and bounces off of the walls. Changeling fact number two - what drones lack in speed and strength, they get in durability.

Unfortunately for Three, his legs suddenly cross against his will. It feels as if something invisible is pressing against them, and while he is stronger, it’s slowing him down as the earthpony strides towards him.

The blood all over. It’s not telekinesis controlling the blood, it’s some kind of magic based on blood directly! I remember Seven did say ponies like that exist and are beyond scary.

Umm, that means I think I’m in trouble…

“ANYONE HERE? MISS GEM, THIRTEEN?” he lets out a mental scream, “HEEEEEELP!” he adds a real world one just in case which seems to please the earthpony.

“Oh yes… you will sing for me too...”

Blood tendrils bring Three up, spread-eagle, to the eye level of the pony. His chitin starts feeling extremely itchy and as he looks down, he can see it flaking off along with the blood.

With a chuckle, the pony scoops more blood off of the floor, and smears it over the freshly flaked off part of Three’s carapace. The itching grows stronger as another layer peels off.

“I’ll scoop you out like a-”

“Three!”

Just as the drone realizes he can sense Thirteen again, a roar of pure rage shakes the hallway and makes the tendrils holding Three revert back into harmless albeit sticky liquid. Three half scoots and half slides backwards, curling up when a massive leg jumps over him. Thirteen grabs him next, scooping him under herself.

“Gotta wipe the blood off, Thirteen!” he relays, “He can do nasty blood stuff!”

“I don’t- I don’t have anything ready.”

“Please please please please, at least something sticky and spongy! All I can do is mint sweets and I don’t think that baddie likes candy.”

“I don’t- I- I can’t-”

“We must get the blood off of me and now that you touched me off of you too!”

“I don’t know any-”

Thirteen is just standing there, trembling and staring wide-eyed at the tunnel of blood, drawing blanks on every idea, every recipe, everything. She’s sure she’s not breathing either.

The minotaur reaches the earthpony before the effect of his surprise roar wears off and floors the equine with one punch and a crunch. He raises his leg to stomp on the enemy as the pool of blood shifts like a carpet under him. He falls backwards, rising back up along with the pony.

He punches again but this time his fist is caught by a tendril growing out from the wall, going even in strength. He punches with his other hand which gets caught with a second tendril, this time from a splatter on the ceiling.

The earthpony grins again, showing all his teeth-

When he can’t gain purchase on the slick floor for a proper push, the minotaur uses the strength of the tendrils holding his hands stead to kick up and hears a satisfying snap from the earthpony’s neck.

The pony’s head is twisted backwards in an unnatural angle. However, the tendrils are still steady.

“That one hurt even me...” the pony’s head snaps backwards, crunch after crunch of vertebrae fixing themselves accompanying the words, “Now it’s my turn, and all that muscle, flesh, and sooo much raw strength made me do hungry.”

“RUN-”

Half of the minotaur’s body instantly ripped in two like a wishbone lands in front of Thirteen and Three.

“No...” Thirteen stumbles backwards, shaking her head in horror, “No no no no no...”

Three, on the other hole, shuffles towards the remains, pokes it, nuzzles it, and nuzzles it again.

“Mister minotaur…?” he pokes its non-open side again, “I… I… I...” at loss for words, Three hugs the thick, musclebound arm, “Mister strong…?”

The rapidly cooling arm finally makes reality crash upon Three.

He could have run. He didn’t have to help. We could have just waited to be released but I wanted to get out no matter what.

It’s my fault.

I did this.

Three keels over backwards on his backside, staring at the earthpony chewing on the minotaur’s intestine-

“Booooooooooooooooooooss!”

-and starts wailing uncontrollably.

Fuck, a blood mage! Maybe I should have expected that from a maximum security prison.

Still, it’s a pony prison.

Magpie runs into the tunnel now well lit by a mix of red and green light, charges past catatonic Thirteen and wailing Three, and prays to anything listening that the blood mage is too busy licking half of the slaughtered minotaur to notice him in time.

He gets in range and is about to ram the stun rod straight into the earthpony’s eye as a tendril of blood from the minotaur sliced open and suspended in the air by one leg like a pig on a hook shoots out and stops his right foreleg.

He lets the stun baton go, pushes against the tendril with his foreleg, catches the baton with the left one just as the earthpony looks down, giving him a perfect opportunity to simply stab upwards and push the slider on the handle up to maximum.

The tendril holding Magpie’s right foreleg evaporates instantly along with a screech of agony from the blood mage. The griffon doesn’t stop pushing, ramming the baton through the back of the earthpony’s eye socket and into his skull.

Skilled blood mages are incredibly difficult to hurt with physical damage but electricity works wonders, although it does that against most creatures.

Unlike with the creature of black smoke before, Magpie doesn’t pull the stun rod out until it stops on its own with a final puff of smoke that adds burning circuitry to scorched flesh.

Even when burned out, the baton is still a blunt weapon albeit a weak one, and Magpie flicks the blood off of it while returning to the two changelings.

“Get going!” he shoves Three who just slides a little back on the blood everywhere.

“B- But mister minotaur-”

“There’s two of him now, and not in a good way-” Magpie freezes when he hears bones creak from behind.

The blood mage’s body twitches.

“How I wish I had a real mace to pulverize that bastard,” he slaps Three without holding back which makes the drone look up at him with wet face, “MOVE OR I’M FUCKING KICKING YOU ALL THE WAY TO GEM!”

“This is all my fault-” mutter Three.

“Not now!” Magpie scowls, grabs Three by the scruff of his neck, and lobs him away from the twitching earthpony. Passing by Thirteen, he he gives her a sharp tug at her ear, “Move or die here.”

“This is all because I couldn’t goop out a stupid sponge-” mutters Thirteen in shock.

“I’m not listening to this shit in stereo!” Magpie backhands Thirteen so hard she stumbles and spits out blood, then he grabs her by the neck and looks her straight in the eyes, “Once we’ve caught up with Gem, you’re both her problem. Until then, move!” he jabs the base of her horn with his talon.

Thirteen can only nod and follow the griffon as he passes Three and says:

“Get up before he gets up,” Magpie points backwards. Three’s completely out of it, though, staring at nothing as his mouth moves in some silent litany.

As he growls, Thirteen stutters out:

“W- Wait!” she scoops Three onto her back, looks at Magpie and then down on the floor, “Don’t hit him anymore, please...”

“Then get going. There’s some magic here making the place shift, but I think this makes it behave,” he taps the glowing badge on a piece of torn warden uniform around his chest.