~ 98 ~
"I Honestly Think They Just Look Cool."
Spike threw his right fist across the face of the black clone, heaving as he stumbled to where it had stood. From the corner of his eyes, he saw another lunge itself at him, shooting his left claw underneath his outstretched right arm and into the black liquid chest.
The drake tightened his fists inside both of the creatures, a green glow protruding out from inside them, before it flew like the sun and the black beings exploded into the air. Both arms pointed in separate directions, allowing for the third clone to take hold of the wrists and screech into their owner’s face.
Spike hissed back. He reeled back his head before slamming it forth into the one before him. A green glow emitted in the minuscule space between liquid and scales, as the former was blown back in a spray like fashion.
Finally, the clothed drake let his arms fall and complied heavily with his pleading lungs. He clutched at the strap to his guitar case just as six more tendrils deposited more clones onto the platform.
“You know,” the Count began, the green glow inside the drake’s wrist strobing in tandem to his speech, “warding them off certainly would be easier if you entrusted the ponies with the contents inside that case. Would you also be so kind as to ditch the get up that fallen king gave you?”
“This again!?” Spike dashed forth with yet another pant, looking down at his wrist as he imbued more of his energy into the green glow. “I know you two had your differences, but can’t you give it a rest?”
He looked up just in time to see the whip of a tendril flying his way. He quickly leaped into the air as it soared below him, but failed the notice the other that had risen itself a few feet. It smacked into his body like a bat into a baseball as the drake went flying back.
Just as he was inches from the ground, Spike caught himself and pulled his body forward. His feet landed on the ground and slid back a few feet, before charging forth once again.
“I will once you tell me why you’ve donned those clothes,” the count spoke as his glow dimmed, something that didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t tell me his pitiful grace has convinced you into becoming a Guardian. Such a path has swayed many who were not meant to tread across it – you should only go down it if it's your feet that choose it.”
“I’ve got better things to worry about then my career plan, Count, “ Spike said as he began to skid to a halt, the whip of a tendril upon him once again, though he only raised the wrist his companion was imbibed in. “The clothes aren’t even of royalty, so it’s not like I’m making an oath by putting them on; I honestly think they just look cool.”
The tendril slapped against the purple wrist. Spike winced, eyes watching as it began to wrap around his arm, keeping his feet planted to the ground as it tried to pull him back.
The tug of war continued for several moments. Boots began to slide forth as their owner pulled back on the force, only to be yanked forward once more. Spike would’ve gone flying forth into the fray, had it not been for the burst of green light from his wrist. It evaporated the goo down its source; its only remains a small array of steam.
“Coo?!” The strobes of green light were accompanied by an intense wave of heat. “You wear an outfit uninformed of its meaning, glimpsing at its extraordinary history, then donning it yourself for the simple reason of it being cool!?”
“Extronairy? I thought you said you hated the king.” The black end of the coat wafted into the air as Spike returned to a standing position. “Whatever respectable history these clothes had, even if they’re around the body of someone like me – I think they’re better off in use than collecting dust.”
The green glow dimmed. “There’s no much you have yet to understand.”
Spike looked over his shoulder at the distant mass of ponies. They were beginning to file in different groups, two aimed at the staircases behind the dragon that ascended to separate distractions, and the other two were directed at the ones adjacent to the bar, where a plethora of black Spike's stood.
The guards stood point with their weapons raised. Eyes set for any stranglers that the drake couldn’t hold back. At the head of the groups of citizens and those who were wounded, the friends he had believed to be dead were now in fact soothing their grief and fear, and proclaiming to their safety.
After all had been said and done, there was so much left between the drake and the ponies. Spike looked forward, clutching his fist even tighter as another wave of blackness came upon him.
He couldn’t help but chuckle bittersweetly.
“I know.”