//------------------------------// // Chapter 37 — Making Friends // Story: The Runaway Bodyguard // by scifipony //------------------------------// Ma'am introduced everypony. I was clearly the only... what? Intern? One blue earth pony wore black saddlebags that matched his black pants. It was clearly not my business to know what the saddlebags contained. I was the sole unicorn. She rattled off an address on the east side of the bay and waited. I thought about it and gave her a route Crossroads wouldn't insult my ancestry for stating, pointing down the correct street before enumerating each street, direction, intersection, and turn. With a nod, she told me, "If we meet another gang, Grimoire gets to distract them for at least two minutes. Everypony, follow me." Eight ponies, me included, set off to walk halfway across Baltimare in the dead of the night. You could see the stars, it was that clear. Despite being late spring, the breeze blew cold. Thankfully, my cloak proved warm. I wondered about the white tee-shirts. Trigger had testified that rare would be the days we met resistance. We did see some ponies. A few inebriates stumbling home from the bar when it closed. I saw a couple of earth ponies too obviously in new love that insomnia overruled better judgement. The pair didn't see us until we were close enough to see the color of their startled eyes in the lamplight (green and magenta). They hastened away. Other than that, a few early dock workers trotted by keeping their gazes averted. That was it until I could smell the bay, the saltwater with a whiff of the sewers that polluted it. As we strode down E. Redwood, an intersection came into view. As I could see further and further down the double-wide northern cross street, I spotted two ponies: a muddy brown earth pony with an equally muddy-looking mane and, beside him, a pale blue pegasus with a blue mane. Both had brown or deep green eyes. Hard to tell since the street lamps were coincidentally out and it was quite dark. Ma'am said, "Your turn on the hoofball pitch." She corrected her route, turning south on what turned out to be ironically named "Light Street." An interesting detour, but now my heart raced. Cut from the herd, I moved to the middle of the intersection to indicate I was blocking the newcomers. They watched the retreating group until they turned east at Mincer Street, a street-wannabe alley, then focused on me. Feeling exposed, I retreated to the furthest street corner where there was a lamp post and a red newspaper machine. Measuring my hoof steps, I continued to prep Levitateand decided Illuminate might prove useful. I might need to grab or blind an opponent. Neither seemed to be in any hurry to engage as they approached. The pegasus fluttered up to the black awning over a doorway of a brick building. 17 Restaurant. Closed. The other building of the intersection was newer: an ugly cement front (over brick). The airborne stallion had a long mane and his tail was full, if not entirely short. The pair stopped and stared. I swallowed hard. Okay. This fight had no rules. I had to get that through my head. Like the monster I'd met on a rainy night, I had no idea what might become of me if I lost. I didn't know what these two wanted from me, though I'd been right in guessing the monster had wanted me dead that fateful night. He'd already gotten what he wanted. Coach's words came to me. "Attitude. If you don't have that, you'll lose." How right! I squared my shoulders. I gave a quick glance at my surroundings. As I had learned about most eastern cities, Baltimare would not win any clean-and-neat prize. I saw gum wrappers, crushed cups, and a spilt half-empty juice bottle in the gutter. Somepony had curbed their dog near by, recently from the fragrance. I was dimly cognizant that the juice bottle looked like orange juice as I found a coin and inserted it into the newspaper machine. Keeping an eye on the two rival gangsters, I took out the The Baltimare Sun and pulled out the sports section. I left the rest of the paper on top of the machine as courtesy dictated. They kept looking. I picked up the orange juice bottle—Sunny Daze brand with a smiling pink-maned white unicorn on the label. I brought it to my lips just to see their reaction. The pegasus flinched. I grinned. Okay. Idea forming. This wasn't a fight with rules. There were no rocks to throw, but if I threw the glass bottle it would not strike the pegasus hard enough to injure him. However, if he decided to follow my "homies" and I threw it properly I might take advantage of what my magic would do to the bottle. I placed the juice bottle down on the newspaper stand with a provocatively loud clink, but kept my magic on it. I looked up at the gas lamp atop the high post. Not sure why it was out. Fire wasn't a good spell for me and, really, it didn't matter. Keeping my eyes ready for a charge, I reached my magic up and cast a third level Illuminate on the lamp. It glowed green, but I tuned it to a nice brilliant yellow-white. My audience blinked at me, both covering their eyes with a hoof. About 45 seconds had passed since Ma'am had taken the team on the detour. Still no attack. We're they really going to let me get fully prepped? Did I miss anything? I spared some glances around while allowing my ears to swivel, straining for any sounds foreign to the city at night. No. Nothing. Just my ear still ringing from being hit by a hoof. At the one minute mark, I sighed and muttered to myself, "Seriously?" At the 75 second mark, I reached out to the lamp post across the intersection near the pegasus. I lit it and tuned the light as I had previously. The pegasus watched cautiously. See, I was saying, I'm above average at magic. I grabbed the newspaper. With a loud snap, I folded it length-wise in three columns to match the print. One more fold horizontally and it was ready to read on a crowded bus or train. I'd learned a lot since coming to Baltimare. "Oh," I said, reading the first article. "Grape is going for the title again this year—" The pegasus shot south on Light Street. I magically impelled the juice bottle, wide mouth forward. He dodged, but between the limits of my magic propelling it, the backdraft off his wings, and the jerk I gave the bottle as it almost crossed paths with him... the juice ejected. Half the big bottle sprayed his right wing feathers, immediately fouling the air foil just as he was trying to dodge yet again. It wasn't much, but I also triggered Grasp. It turned out I was ethically-challenged after all. I caught not his primary feathers but his blue mane—and pulled hard downward. While this caused him to curve down and toward me (or maybe that had been his intention from the beginning), I heard galloping earth pony hooves clattering my direction. Maybe a pincer had been their plan all along. I'd watched a few tag-team matches, enough to know I didn't like the sport. I was, at my core, a loner. Besides, I had learned to like not relying on anypony beside myself. I started to lose my grasp on the pegasus as I pulled down. That was alright because the earth pony had reminded me of Mustang's mad charge. Sometimes physical ponies really did misunderstand the physicality of lesser-muscled unicorns. As they barreled at me from both directions, I stiffened as if frozen in fear. At the last moment, I corrected the pegasus' trajectory with one last pull and jumped back. Okay, I stumbled back while jumping because both put on speed in a final dash. The pegasus realized what was about to happen and pulled up. The earth pony realized what was happening and deceleration caused him to rear as he tried to skid to a halt. I realized I would be blinded if feathers slashed my eyes. I slid backwards on my rear end and only got swatted by the very tip of a wing across my nose. The pegasus' right front hoof clocked the earth pony in the jaw. The flyer caught enough resistance by the strike that it pulled him down just enough that the earth pony, now propelled backward head over hindquarters, nosed him in the stomach. They tumbled into a pony pile of feathers and bloody bruises in the middle of the street. I put the frog of my hoof to my nose. Blood dripped from a short slash. I threw the paper at them and heard ripping. I'd just wanted to add a final shock as I clattered upright, but the ten-page sport section unfolded and filled the air with fluttering newsprint. I galloped east on Saratoga as the two untangled themselves. Nearly two minutes was enough of a distraction. I ran giggling and chortling. Not necessarily the best strategy if I didn't want to provoke them into following me—but it really felt good.