On a warm summer afternoon, a lone griffon in a suit sat in a booth by the window of a little cafe. He had a black coffee and a mostly untouched breakfast. Outside the window, he could hear the deep rumble of a motorcar as it passed by.

It truly was amazing- in just a mere five years, and financially backed by Don Grimfeather, the automotive industry has taken the spotlight off the train as a symbol of Prosperity and hope within the Griffonian Syndicate.

From the common model of The People’s Car all the way up to the luxurious Ben’s Motorcars, despite what the Equestrian media will tell you, it’s here to stay.

This would all be fine and well… if that griffon was here for sightseeing; He was waiting on someone for a meeting, and was starting to grow impatient.

The bell by the front door rang out, and the griffon breathed a sigh of relief. Way he saw it, the less time he spent here, the better. Internally, he felt himself a trespasser in the cave of a great, sleeping bear; and he was there for the specific goal of poking it, for the greater good.

A nervous looking griffon woman in her mid 20s quickly took her seat, followed by the waitress showing up.

“Can I start ya with anything?” she asked with a smile, totally ignorant of the weight of the conversation about to happen at that booth.

After a quick glance at the menu, “Ah, uhm… Equish muffin, with peanut butter. Black coffee, please.” She answered with a polite smile and a nod. The waitress walked away, the only hint of her tiredness being the sluggishness with which she walked.

The lady glanced around nervously.

“Hello, Mrs. G-”

“Wait.” She said abruptly. “H-how do I know you’re not… on her payroll?” Some of her employer's paranoia rubbed off on her, evidently. After getting over the initial shock, he simply chuckled softly.

“Ma’am, if I was with her? You’d have arrived first and your introduction to me would’ve been a gun behind the ear.” Nevertheless, he pulled his wallet out, and his badge did identify him as an Equestrian agent. It calmed her significantly- and besides. The lady’s worked around Leona for long enough to know how she deals with problems.

The waitress dropped off her coffee and muffin, and the two waited until she was behind the counter to begin. She leaned in and started to speak quietly, but was interrupted.

“The fuck are you doing?” he asked in a hushed voice, putting a hand to her shoulder, gently guiding her back into her seat. In a much calmer voice, he said- “Sit down and talk normally. Looks less suspicious that way.” She still looked quite nervous, as she fidgeted with the handle of the coffee mug. “Listen, I’m here to help. Once this is over, I got a couple folks’ll help you lay low until we can get you outta here.” He spoke calmly, with a reassuring smile.

Maria Galloway, the unwitting daughter of Leona’s first murder victim, took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. She knew how much danger she was putting herself in. But she also knew that the deranged lunatics who hypnotised her entire country needed to be brought to justice. Especially Diamond Tiara- Maria had… quite a bit of dirt on her.

It’s just unfortunate that much of this dirt was acquired from firsthand experience.

Indeed, Equestria wished to bring the couple to justice… is what she was told.

In reality, Twilight was feeling a little concerned. And when someone says they feel a little concerned? They’re very concerned.

About five years ago, there was a bit of a scandal, in which it was revealed that Equestria had been illegally sending changeling spies to monitor certain key political players. They got caught, executed, and the changelings at the hive spent like, a week in mourning.

Not only could this act of aggression sparked a war, it has tarnished the reputation of the changelings, who have been working tirelessly to turn their image around. Thorax had one of his scribes re-read the treaty which gave Equestria that power in the first place.

As it turns out? There was a clause. The gist of it was that the Changeling spies couldn’t be used for any direct military or combat purposes. They wouldn’t- most of them hate fighting, after spending most of their lives under the totalitarian rule of Chrysalis, who sent them to die en-masse during the siege of Canterlot.

Changelings, in their most primal and wild form, should act like a parasite. Something that quietly enters your home, studies your every move, every aspect of your being until it knows enough that it can take your place in the Herd. And once it’s sapped the love from your friends and family, your Herd will be left to wonder why they felt so drained and why you abandoned them.

But the era in which changelings could even potentially act like that has long passed. Ponies no longer sleep under trees, outside where you can blend in with all the fleas and flies like the kindred spirits you both were born to be. Ponies in the modern world lead far more complex lives, have more friends, and as a side effect of their slowly evolving equine brains, have even discovered magical ways to detect these strange, terrifying creatures.

In summary, for a single changeling to study every minute detail would simply be impossible. It’d be madness to attempt! Even the most masterfully trained Changeling spies will eventually slip up and get discovered. They get discovered in a moment of weakness, let their guard down. Sometimes they may even reveal their true form to a partner without even noticing until it’s too late. Even the craftiest, most masterful, highly intelligent Changeling reincarnation of Spymaster Garbo is not immune to this folly.

And in the way of sheer, black-and-white contrast, the modern Changeling is a noble evolution… or rather, it’s a metamorphosis of the once-primitive, beast-like parasites of this land into that of a higher culture, inspired of the ways of Friendship extolled by Equestria. One which emphasises intellect and peaceful resolution to general barbary, even further distancing themselves from the past. The contemporary Changeling Hive truly is a modern Babylon, not only in all its garden girdled majesty, but also in what it represents; for is forgiveness not the aspect of a great friendship, when the belligerent has made a clear and honest effort to amend their ways?

That, according to many, is what made the shameless use of Changeling resources to satisfy Equestria’s moral superiority so tragic; as many as five changelings are dead because The Crown couldn’t help but leave well enough alone. This whole situation spits in the face of the values of friendship and tolerance!

And wouldn’t you know it- ponies are noticing. It started off small- some author anonymously published an essay, the ideas of which slowly started gaining traction within intellectual circles, such as around colleges. Nerds, pretty much. In the future, these nerds would evolve to become Hearts of Iron IV players.

Wait. What?

These nerds I MEAN intellectuals form clubs with their colleagues, where they meet together to discuss these strange new ideas over coffee and, occasionally, weed. There are a lot of stoners in this ideology, probably enticed by the idea of not having to work. Yet on the opposite end of the spectrum, you had those that totally opposed the idea of using drugs which alter one's state of mind.

This spectrum of ideology often falls under the term Marksism, the essay which formed the genesis of these new ideas. Some prefer to go by the general marksist, perhaps as a way to excuse them from having to explain the name of their fringe ideology to anyone who may be interested. Some of these marksists will likely punch you in the face if you call them a marksist, especially after they spent the time explaining their half-baked ideas to you over far too many shots at the pub.

The original author, Starlight Glimmer, would eventually call these outcasts who joined her out of a sense of nothing left to lose or even boredom, useful idiots to the cause… Not to their face, of course.

Then on the opposite side of the umbrella term Marksist, exists another term- The Elite. They are made up of many groups and ideologies, many of them working independently towards the same goal- the total, willing, enslavement and vast ignorance of The People, with which they will be left to exploit freely the Goods of the People.

Capitalists, blue-blooded nobility, the bankers, and I’m sure if you dig deep enough and keep going down past China, you’ll probably find that one of the Rothschilds was involved, somehow. It is not a masterfully co-ordinated effort by an elite few in an effort to keep the masses in line, despite what some would lead you to believe. These groups all work independently towards one goal- wealth and power, at the expense of the people.

Meanwhile, the corporate workers devour each other like wild beasts, an utter cacophony of a grey cubicle; the mountains of paper giving you snow-blindness, and each echoing CLACK! Of a stamp driving you closer and closer to insanity.

This is no way for anyone to live, and the marksists have realised this; using the exploitation of those up top to even convert some of those stuffy middle-managers to their cause, with them abandoning their clipboards and the massive stick up their ass to take what had always belonged to them. Things have gotten so out of hand that even the fucking rat race slowed down as more and more corporate ponies quiet-quit as a means of protest.

Those up top are not happy with the state of things. Even they’re considering ousting the monarchy like that won’t cause generations of infighting and instability, as even the working class will begin picking up rocks in a desperate attempt to out their newest despot. Even though there is a not-insignificant minority among The People calling for violence and immediate revolution, a harrowing number of the Elite are calling for the wholesale slaughter and devastation of the people who are forced to serve.

But generally speaking, calls for violence are chastised by those who exist between the spectrum of Elite and Marksist. They are often called centrists, but their numbers have been shrinking by the day anyway. Eventually, there will be no-one left to defend or mourn the Elite… after that? Then we will bury you.

But until then? Glimmer refuses to give up.

“Today is a beautiful day, Comrades! For it will be marked in the history books, as for the first time ever, the ruling elite and the Nobility will soon be forced to capitulate to our demands peacefully!” Which wasn’t entirely true… but Glimmer knew that in order to dismantle the system and rebuild it anew, she knew she needed the unwavering support of her people.

If the massive crowd that showed up to Canterlot to finally meet the progenitor of Marksism is anything to go by, Starlight felt confident in saying that she had it. Though the support and rooting of her wife was very nice and always welcome… to hear a crowd cheering for her made tears form in the corner of her eyes.

“You know, I was always just your average pony- I worked hard for five days a week, toiling and slaving away for the Almighty Equestrian Bit!” The casualness and joviality in her voice quickly endeared the crowd to her, and they were hanging on to her every word. And not only was the crowd listening in, most of Equestria was, and even a few in Griffonia who were interested. It was very lucky for Glimmer that the CEO of the radio company was “one of the good ones”, helping the people! He truly had no ulterior motives…

Come on now, did you think Glimmer wouldn’t ask the people who worked for him whether he was truly on their side? But he was an incredibly useful idiot, and one which, if the People will it, may even get certain special privileges for his prison cell.

“I’m going to tell you a story, because I wish to know how common of an issue this is.” She stated, and the crowd calmed themselves. “Approximately five years ago, I was rushed to a hospital for emergency surgery. And while the situation was stressful and the pain nearly unbearable, you wanna know something?” she said, a certain slyness evident in her voice. “I remembered thinking to myself, goodness, this bill is gonna be awful.” A few people in the crowd giggled, but after a moment of introspective, they all came to the same conclusion- the system was awful, and something had to be done. But Glimmer wasn’t finished.

“Then, despite the direness of the situation, I was forced to wait until my shift was over before attempting to admit myself to the hospital. But I couldn’t wait, and I was left to collapse in the hallway. Chancellor Neighsayer, my direct supervisor, was right on the scene… to tell everyone to get back to work!” outrage was near universal amongst the crowd, and she still wasn’t finished.

“When I got out of my surgery, Neighsayer personally took the time out of his day to visit me… to drop off more paperwork!” taking a page out of Leona’s book, she was gesticulating wildly. Punctuating her last sentence by pounding the podium, the loud Clack! Of her brass horseshoe against the podium gave her an idea. Her horseshoe was of the modern variety- so rather than being held in place by hammering tacks into the hard keratin outer edge of the hoof, she instead had special magnets inlaid into the keratin, so removing her shoes was simply a matter of pulling harder.

I’m only explaining this so you know how what happened next didn’t require any special tools on her part. All she had to do was take her shoe off and start using it as a makeshift gavel.

CLANG! The shoe reverberated satisfyingly like a tuning fork.

“Adding literal insult to literal injury, when I had the nerve to call off because I couldn’t work through the pain? Neighsayer’s exact words to me that night…” the clanging of her shoe briefly slowed, and she said “If I don’t see you on monday, there will be consequences! That’s the words that inbred degenerate bureaucrat told me… on the same night I penned the first draft Hivism and Equestria!” The crowd started whipping itself up into a frenzy, and the clang of a brass horseshoe originating from their Leader got their attention.

“The worst part is, there are laws in place to prevent this type of abuse! Only, those laws remain unenforced, simply because The Elite won’t allow it! The government agencies, whenever their bioluminescence isn’t blinding us from seeing Truth, are woefully understaffed and underbudgeted. Greedy Elites rig local votes to pass laws that only benefit the few. Did you know that every year, more and more freedoms we always held for granted as a Sovereign People are being weakened and eroded?!” She was speaking passionately, as though she were genuinely speaking from the bottom of her heart.

“Union-busting is rampant! Our pensions, crumbling and eroded by The Elite gambling it all away on stocks at Palistrade Avenue, while more and more people can’t even afford pennystocks!” The clanging of her shoe against the podium, in between swings, caused them to emit an oddly hypnotic timbre, the calm undertone contrasting with the bombastic overtone of Glimmer like a symphony of utter chaos amidst revolutionary fervour. “In highlighting this injustice, it is my hope that one day, everypony may once again get along, living in Harmony, just as the great Saint Celestia always intended!”

For context, Celestia isn’t dead. The majority of ponies didn’t like referring to their previous God-Empress by her first name, and to avoid offending Twilight, people just started calling her Saint Celestia.

Even through the cacophony of the crowd, the distant hum of a zeppelin caught the attention of particularly sensitive individuals. It was a small one, probably for personal use by one who had the means.

“Look! Even now, The Elite insult us, flying above our heads as though we were dirt under their hooves!” Because of the angle and direction it was approaching from, being directly south, no one spotted the symbol representing the Griffonian Syndicate on the tailfin, the bright yellow of The Sign contrasting heavily with the black fabric of the airship.

The crowd giggled at her little quip, but quickly returned to the previous seriousness once the novelty of the approaching zeppelin wore off.

“But our movement is one of peace. We must work to bring these criminals to justice once and for all!” The crowd of ponies cheered triumphantly, “We must work together as one united people! To show the world that change doesn’t always have to happen as a result of violence!” She took a deep breath, and belted out her final statement.

“We will stand together as one! But to do that, we need one, final thing…” She gave a pause for dramatic effect before belting out- “SOLIDARITY! THAT’S OUR WORD! SOLIDARITY!”

She was so happy that she didn’t even notice the Equestrian Royal Guardforce slowly surrounding the area as ponies started removing their shoes and clanging them against the pavement.

“SOLIDARITY! SAY IT WITH ME!”

—

The flush of a toilet could be heard.

“You know, why does our private zeppelin have a shitter? Because I’m pretty sure Equestrian trains still don’t!” I ranted to no one in particular. My wife merely snorted from her spot on the couch, where she was reading a magazine and drinking a martini. She looked very cute with her reading glasses, not gonna lie.

She gave me a deadpan stare, with her glasses hanging on the end of her nose. “Money?” I rolled my eyes and took my spot on the couch. It was a real nice one- each side had its own independent footrest, which I happily activated by pulling the lever.

“Can’t cost that much to drill a fuckin’ hole in the ground.” I kicked back with a sigh, my left hand behind my head for support and the other holding a whiskey… for sipping.

“Have you seen the state of the place, lately?” she had a smug grin that suited her so fuckin’ well. I gave her a grin of my own.

“No, I’m too busy staring into your beautiful eyes all the time. Why, what’s happenin?” Once Annie learns proper sarcasm, we’re all fucked. Speaking of my pride and joy, Mamma was watching her at home.

“Aww, honey!” she said sweetly, putting her magazine down to cuddle into my side. I threw an arm around her, gently stroking her mane.

Despite how good I felt, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of exasperation from another issue. “I still can’t believe Equestria’s already gone to shit. I can’t! And I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“Oh don’t worry, they’ll find some way to blame you when it all falls apart.” Once again, I sighed.

“For cryin’ out loud, I can’t even eat veal without those fuckers saying I eat babies or something!” My wife giggled, but I decided to cut my rant short. “Thankfully, their propaganda department’s been lacking, ever since they lost their easy-mode spies.” They actually had to train ponies or Griffon-Equestrian nationalists to send over a spy- a job that very few people are suicidal enough, or perhaps stupid enough, to even apply for… nevermind the fact that most of them get caught at the borders, the rules of which I was forced to tighten.

“I mean, I was kind enough to convince Twilight to allow open border travel, so she thanks me by sending spies over? Get the fuck outta here, I hope that fuckin great-value brand Lenin they got coming up over there is the one to pull the lever at the gallows!” After a few moments of silence, my wife spoke up.

“Who was Lenin, again?” she asked, and I snorted and rolled my eyes.

“One of the Russian commies. Not gonna lie, I don’t know a lot of the history because… well, they’re Communists, who gives a shit, ya’ know? Bottom line is, Communism is fucked and will never work because it relies on fallible, mortal people who will inevitably serve their own interests.” I lit up a cigarette, thankful that my Zeppelin was powered by Helium. “I mean, it kind of works out for us in the long run, since we were planning on weakening Equestria and cleaning house anyway… But there’s a reason I went through so much effort to keep those books the fuck out of my Syndicate.”

“Well, yeah… but…” she spoke up, and with a sigh she admitted- “I read it myself, and Mark’s really does have some good ideas!”

I just gave her a deadpan look. “You fallin’ for this commie bullshit?” I couldn’t believe it!

“Nonono, it’s not that. Her end goal is laughably unrealistic. In fact, I’m willing to bet that if Mrs. Mark’s identity is discovered, she’s a dead mare walking. It’s more of a broken clock being right twice a day type of deal.” Dee sat back up, making talking to her a bit easier. Personally, I had to giggle.

“She’s stepping on a lot of toes and indirectly insulting some very powerful people. Just because it’s not a legal death sentence to insult the nobility, does not mean they take insults in stride. Hell, if the rumors are true, some of the more powerful nobility have mercs on salary, which they often call their “personal guard.”

With a deep puff of a cigarette, I sighed in contentment. “Something tells me I’ll be sending someone to whack her one of these days, whoever she is.” I took a sip of whiskey, and my Zeppelin’s PA system crackled to life.

“Don Grimfeather, Empress Tiara- we’ll be making touchdown in half an hour, and I highly recommend you look out the window. Seriously.”

With nothing better to do than to sit on my ass and complain about communist horses, we both got up to look.

“Holy Christ.” was all I could say. Dee was totally slack-jawed, and I couldn’t blame her.

Words can barely do justice in describing the Gardens of Babylon, and that rang true even still. As our zeppelin docked, the construction of which was paid for by me, I couldn’t help but feel…

I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like an overall sense of… wrongness? Maybe it could be described as disgust?

Either way, a changeling, named Spiracle, would be our guide to the Main Hive.

Even as we were led into the main structure, the only definite word I could, in my mind, use to describe this feeling. Decadence.

Decadence was in abundance here. The women wore beautiful dresses made of silk harvested within the hive itself. It was only two PM, and as we walked by a group of drunken revellers stumbling their way down the sidewalk, I was awed by the sight of a monolithic fountain within one of the city’s cultural plaza’s.

You know, I expected some… resistance? A protest? Maybe even some tomatoes thrown my way? Indeed, the changelings going about their day were just… chill. A street band was nearby playing music just for fun, and a small crowd joined in on the spontaneous street party.

“You get a bad feeling about this place, too?” Dee turned and looked at me like I grew a second head. I just shrugged. “I mean, this is great and all… but what happens when you get bored of partying all the time?” The guard, who we were told to follow, merely shrugged.

“Often, those that feel bored usually don’t remain as such.” yeah, that’s a fuckin’ answer.

I groaned in annoyance. “Stop here a minute. I need a smoke.” I already had the cigarette in my mouth, leaning against a marble pillar when I was interrupted.

“Can’t smoke here.” I huffed in annoyance- but I wanted to actually follow the rules this time, so I put it back in the pack.

“Take me somewhere I can smoke then, wouldya?” I was feeling a little snappy, not gonna lie. At least there were plenty of seats in the smoking area, along with a bunch of state propaganda claiming that cigarettes are bad for you. Well if smoking was so bad, why do 9/10 doctors recommend it? I rest my case.

But even the smoking area wasn’t free from that dissonant feeling of unease- compounded by the clean sterility around me, like the odd marble structure in the plaza in front of us, which had a not-too short line waiting out front. I assumed it was a public shitter, and thought nothing of it.

“Wait, are changeling bathrooms not separated by gender?” My wife asked, and indeed, there was only one door and line- we figured there must have been one on the other side. Our tour guide merely cocked an eyebrow.

“No, why… why would we have separate bathrooms?” I couldn’t help but chuckle- to be fair, it was kind of a dumb question. “I mean, if you look at the whole spectrum of different ways changelings identify as, there’s just… not enough space for that many different bathrooms, I guess.”

“Wait, so changelings have more than two genders?” Before he could answer my wife’s question, I decided to.

“Honey, changelings can have no gender if they want. Literally, flat carapace and no genitalia if that’s what feels right. Aren't there some changelings that go by another species entirely?” He nodded with a smile, letting me know that I was right.

“My brother’s a cat, actually.” My wifes curiosity was now piqued, and the changeling went on to discuss his brother's story, and how it affected their family. He goes by Mittens, nowadays.

I gotta be careful to not pet any cats while I’m here.

I let them chat- personally, I’m more interested in what a changeling whore can do. There’s no such thing as “not your type” when it comes to changelings, and it’s something they’ve been known to capitalise on.

It was oddly hypnotic, watching the line of changelings advance. The line would almost clear out, but another straggler or two would inevitably show up- probably the suckers that had to take a late lunch.

Soon I stood up, and we were on the move without a single word from my beak.

God I love being powerful.

As we walked past those bathrooms, I felt a hoof grab my arm. I turned my head to see what the issue was, and saw…

“Spiracle.” My voice was flat and tense. “What is this building? What function or purpose does it serve?” It was large and octagonal, with only a single door that we haven’t seen anyone leave. Something’s fucky and I intended to find out.

“It’s a Public Relief Chamber. It… relieves the public.” He smirked with a sheepish grin, and I glared at him. “Well… you asked what happens when you’re sick of the party. Well, you can visit the feelings forum… or, you enter the Relief Chamber to join Father.” Having seen enough, we decided to keep walking.

“What… what happens when you join your father?” Dee asked cautiously.

“They get re-constituted into biomass. It’s much nicer, and safer, than just chucking their corpses to the nymphs.” I’m sorry, WHAT!?

“Hold up, back the fuck up. How has not a soul outside the hive seen this?” He seemed genuinely confused, and perhaps even annoyed at our incessant questioning into this apparent suicide booth.

“We don’t get visitors very often, and when we do, they’re often more interested in our Garden. Many Equestrians still feel some race prejudice against us, unfortunately.” gee, I wonder why? “And I don’t understand the problem. It’s a natural process that changelings have done since there ever was such a thing as a changeling. The difference is, we don’t just throw fully constituted bodies into the egg pit like barbarians.”

“Well, glad to know you’re not barbaric.” My wife said sarcastically… like she had any room to talk.

“Indeed! Nowadays, we have a system in place where Father de-constitutes the remains, recycling us so we may serve our descendents, even past death! Nothing gets wasted, and the honey has gotten better and better as more intelligent brains are added to the mix. That’s why the hive in this age no longer employs mindless drones. It’s good for their brains, you know?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I said, no longer wanting to pay attention… before I realised my wife stopped walking.

She had a look of abject horror on her face, and she stuttered out-“Did… did you say honey?” My eyes shot open as the implication set in.

“Yeah. That’s actually where changeling honey comes from! Because the hive’s been doing so well, we found that we had a surplus of the stuff. Heh, those stuffy rich folks in Canterlot can’t get enough of the stuff.” I’m banning the fucking importation of that shit when we get home.

The stuff is very delicious, don’t get me wrong. But it’s like finding out how hot dogs are made- once you’ve seen the secret, they just don’t look the same anymore.

After that, I told our guide to shut the fuck up and take us straight to Thorax. We were getting the fuck outta here.

The inside was just as beautiful as the outside, yet… I don’t think I’ll get very prosy with this description. God, these people are fucked up. But admittedly, the interior decorations were quite sparse. That’s when I realised- this was a people that lived in grand, decadent houses and naively revelled the days away.

Maybe that’s why I felt so… strange around this place. The realisation that, in the long run, these bums are gonna let their nation go to shit.

Fuck if I know.

Despite… everything, I was still very fascinated by why he invited me out here. I greeted him with a hug and a smile, taking my place at the table in the middle of the room.

He looked at me with a genuine, friendly smile and asked, “So, how was-”

“You got a lotta fuckin balls draggin’ me out here, you know that?” He was nervously sweating, and stuttered heavily. I interrupted him, saying “Look, I’m not upset-” mostly “-You said you wanted to have a sitdown… and rather than coming to me, you make me bring my own zeppelin, build my own dock, and supply my own fuel. Then to top it off, I found out that changeling honey is made of half-digested changeling corpses.” My expression, previously flat and deadpan, curled up into a smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m smiling!” My expression fell into a scowl. “But I’m very fucking furious right now.” I simply held my palms out, awaiting my fucking explanation.

After a few moments of him nervously stuttering, he sighed. “Look. I… I know we haven’t gotten along, but…” he seemed genuinely scared, and my look softened. “I feel that with the current state of world affairs, it is necessary to… to seek alternatives to Equestria, should… should something happen.” he was twiddling his hooves, and I leaned back in my chair, motioning for him to continue and steepling my hands.

“I was…” He let out a deep sigh. “And I know the thing with the hon-”

“Nah, nah, I ain’t worried about that. Forget the honey, it’s irrelevant- but do know, I will be banning the importation of the stuff. As a heads up.” he seemed totally floored at my lack of hard feelings. “Look, I’m not here to tell you how to live. That stuff’s none of my business.” Then, with a genuine smile, I asked- “What I wanna know is, what can I do for you?” I’ve been dealing with Twilight’s bullshit for way too long, I’m not the goddamn world police.

“I wanted… I wanted to know if…” he was holding his head in his hooves, and I was wondering what the fuck was wrong with this entire side of the planet. As a way to encourage a hastier decision, I unholstered my shiny new revolver and gently set it on the table.

“Those.” He pointed to my pistol on the table. “We… we need those.” I glanced over to Dee, who cocked an eyebrow.

“You need guns. That’s what you're saying?” he nodded rapidly, as though he were afraid to say the word out loud.

“As much as I hate to say it, no.” His expression fell significantly, and I honestly thought the poor bastard would cry. “Because even if I did give you a bunch of guns and ammo, how do I know you’re not gonna fuck me over?”

“Because if I fucked you over, you’d do something very, very terrible to me. Am I wrong?” I gave him a wide grin, which did nothing to calm his nerves.

“You’re not wrong at all. Besides- where are you gonna get the powder? Replacement parts? Whale oil? How do I know my guns won’t rust away in a shed or be used for an arts and crafts project? Not to mention, how the hell are you gonna afford any of that?” I holstered my gun, now that I finally figured out what this was all about. “But I know you’re in… a bit of a situation. Equestria’s on the verge of a civil war, and you're feeling a little concerned that the Zebras down south might get some funny ideas, right?”

He looked ashamedly to the side, nodding dejectedly. “As… as much as I hate to admit it, yes. My brother was right. About that thing you said.” I just cocked an eyebrow.

“I talk a lotta shit, do you know how little that narrows it down?” Surprisingly enough, he chuckled.

“If you want peace-”
“Prepare for war.” A changeling with a deep, gravelly voice finished that sentence. Something told me this guy was the reason there are still designated smoking areas in the city.

He was a changeling that had a darker colour palette than all the rest- but despite this, he looked just as fruity as the rest of the changelings.

“Sorry for being late. Father’s been… unusually difficult to calm down, today.” He introduced himself as Pharynx.

“Hold on, who’s the Father?” At this point, I had to ask. They’ve name dropped the guy like, 20 times now.

“We’re… not at liberty to say. He has a name, but-” Thorax said curiously, as though he were afraid of lying. Pharynx spoke up, though.

“He’s real secretive. He has a name, but he gets… restless when anyone says it out loud while the stars are wrong. And he hates it when people look at him outside of particular… holidays.” I made a note to myself- never let Mind’s Eye near the Hive. Something was very, very wrong with this place. I remember reading in a book about the wild parties they threw here once in a while; and the idea that this party might’ve had an ulterior motive…

“Tell you what. I’ll cut ya’s a deal.” Pharynx smiled wide. “But I have selfish reasons. Whatever strange… thing you have going on below, must stay below. I don’t know all the details. I don’t want to know all the details.” Ever since a parasite replaced my tongue, I’ve been… wary of the occult. I use the yellow sign- but that’s because it gives me a sense of comfort.

But the deal I made with the changelings involved me sending over a bunch of our old crossbows we had in storage, as well as a few griffons to train them. In exchange, I made them sign a non-aggression pact, and promised to come to their aid if shit goes down. But that part of the deal, we were keeping under the table. Along with… other things.

“One more thing, before you go.” Thorax said, his tone deadly serious. I sat back down to hear him out. “Pinkie promise me that you won’t tell anyone about the honey… or the relief chambers.” I couldn’t help but let out a peal of laughter, same with my wife.

“Wa-wait, you’re serious?” I said, wiping a tear from my eye. His eyes did indeed tell me he was being serious. “Oh, fucks sakes… Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” I even did the ridiculous hand motions, though I didn’t poke myself in the eye.

I turned to my wife and said- “What was that thing that Pinkie always said?” She just rolled her eyes, and sarcastically droned out-

“Something something, lose a friend-”

“FOREVER!” Pinkie’s head popped out of a potted plant in the corner that definitely wasn’t fucking there a minute ago.

“AH!” I yelped, quickly drawing my revolver.

BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!BANG!

The potted plant was reduced to a pile of ceramic shards, dirt, and leaves- with no Pinkie Pie. Everyone else in the room was covering their ears, and Thorax even dived under the table. But me? After I got over the initial shock, I was pissed.

“You don’t FUCKING DO THAT! TO SOMEONE WITH A GUN!” I quickly removed my wooden leg and started beating the fuck out of the pile of dirt, hoping that fucking pink menace was still in the pile somehow. But still- after that outburst, I felt much better.

I breathed out a sigh of relief, a contented smile on my beak. “Well, that meeting went fantastic!” I turned around.

Thorax was still trembling under the table, Pharynx was attempting to coax him out, and my wife was glaring at me.

“What?” I asked innocently as I put my leg back on.

“There better not be a stiff in that fuckin dirt, we don’t have any lime on the ship!” She whinged, and I rolled my eyes.

“Look, I’m sure that whatever fucked up thing the changelings worship down below is in kahoots with Pinkie- she’s fine.” Just to prove it, I kicked the dirt around, revealing nothing but a stone floor. “Remind me to have Emmie look into Pinkie Pie’s… existence at some point. That woman scares me.”

“Wait wait wait, can you repeat that?” Thorax had a shit-eating grin on his face as his brother helped him out from under the table. “You’re afraid… of Pinkie Pie? Have you met her, she wouldn’t hurt a fly!” He and his brother shared a laugh.

“I have met her, and she gives me a headache.” I pulled my revolver out and broke open the top, ejecting and pocketing the six empty cartridges, covered in soot from the black powder. I reloaded it using six rounds of .455 Long from a bandolier under my coat. “Oh, one more thing. Why are those two wearing maid outfits?” While I was reloading my pistol, two changelings in French maid outfits started cleaning up the remains of the potted plant.

“Why wouldn’t we?” One of them asked, and you know what? Fair enough. My wife had an odd look in her eye that I didn’t like.

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop it.” My voice was flat, and she rolled her eyes with a smirk. I turned to Thorax, holding my hand out. “If that’ll be all, then? You’ll have the first shipment by next week.” We shook, and he had a grateful look on his face.

“We really do appreciate your understanding.” He said, and I had to admire this guy's politeness. I mean, I killed five of his guys, and they’re willing to shrug it off, just like that? Shit, I’m not complaining. Then again- something tells me they’re feeling backed into a corner.

And so, after a journey that felt way longer than it actually was, it was time to go home. I opened the door… then slammed it shut.

“THORAX! LEONA! OPEN UP!” Twilight was here, pounding on the door.

“DON’T LET HER IN!” Pharynx yelled,

“PLEASE! I’M SORRY, OKAY!?” She sounded genuinely on the verge of tears, and it gave me pause. I looked back to my host, who nodded slowly.

“Step back. The door swings inward.” The pounding stopped for a moment, and I slowly opened the door.

Her face already had a few streaks in her fur from previously shed tears. “Starlight’s in danger.” that got Thorax’s immediate undivided attention. Twilight looked at me and elaborated- “Cutie Marks. Hivism and Equestria.” wait wait wait… fucking Glimmer is the founding mother of Marksism?

“You know, I really wish I could say I was surprised by this.” I deadpanned. “Now this, I gotta hear.”

Things are gonna get really, really interesting, I feel. But I’ve been writing this entry all day, my hand’s starting to hurt. If this was a TV show, they’d probably slap a big ol’ TO BE CONTINUED! Card across the screen.

The plot thickens!

I have a discord server for this fic out now!! It'd be real cool if u joined :333

As always, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading :3