"You're awfully nervous, mister 1988," says Hacksmith, spotting 1988 once again turning his head into the dimming shadows behind them.
"Yeah, well, after you get attacked by a worm-infested spawn of some dark womb that's wearing the carapace of your species like a coat we'll see how safe you feel out here in the open."
"Eep!" 9999, once again riding on Hacksmith's back, huddles closer to his neck.
"You completely forgot what I said before, did you?" asks 1988, giving 9999's reaction a raised eyebrow.
"N-no..." 9999 gives up immediately after locking stares with the infiltrator, "Yes. Sorry, I was just so happy you were okay and still confused by not being able to speak... or think properly, too, for a while."
"What was that about anyway?" asks Hacksmith.
"Internal workings of our species I'm not allowed to talk about without permission," 1988 shoots him down immediately.
"Whose?"
"Anyone of high enough rank to give said permission."
"Geez," Hacksmith rolls his eyes, "Like when I was getting a zoning permit for that stupid greenhouse in my garden, just because it required plumbing."
"What?" 1988 tilts his head in confusion.
"I'm not at liberty to divulge procedure information specific to internal employees of the zoning office of Stalliongrad," the pony gives him a smug smirk, "See? That's how you sound."
9999 giggles, completely ignoring the dirty look from 1988.
"Look," the infiltrator sighs, "Thanks for saving me and all, but our encounters with other species rarely go well because, you know, sharp teeth, glowing eyes, carapace, and most of us looking pretty much the same. This is a new set of circumstances forced on all of us, and until I know whom I can trust I'm going with years of shared experience screaming at me to avoid torches and pitchforks, okay?"
Hacksmith shrugs.
"It's your call, horsebug lady."
"You- I'm not-!" 9999's snickering interrupts 1988's irritated sputtering.
"Hey, this is a new set of circumstances and blah blah blah so I'm going to believe my eyes first and those eyes say that you're the size of a mare, the general shape of a mare, and even the voice is a little too high-itched."
"Is not!" objects 1988 indignantly, tone an octave higher. He immediately realizes that all he's doing is giving Hacksmith even more ammo, "Hmph, fine, whatever."
"Aww, just like my filly when she gets all huffy."
"...ponies... grumble grumble... cocoon and suck them all dry... too good for them anyway... show you a filly..."
He completely misses Hacksmith whispering something into 9999's ear. The drone scrunches its nose in an attempt to stop itself from snickering further and nods.
"You know, 1988, all that grumbling and scowling causes wrinkles."
"I WILL SKULLFUCK YOUR SOUL'S ANUS AND FEED THE GAPING REMAINS TO ITS LARVAE!"
"...my everything suddenly hurts..."
"Swearing isn't fitting for such a delicate lady, really," the earth pony adds his two bits.
"Graaaah!" 1988's eye twitches.
"Also, anal-tome-ally improbable," 9999 crosses its forelegs on its chest.
YOU ARE READING
They're EVERYWHERE!
Fan fikciaNo one really knows how many changelings were present during the invasion of Canterlot. Unfortunately for the rest of the world, it also means that the love explosion scattered them all over the surface of Equus. These are stories of their Queen and...
