---
A/N: For this fic, there is a not-so-clever pattern. Every chapter that starts with “Tale” starts from somebody else’s perspective that is neither Cier nor Fifty-one. Hopefully, I’ve got at least that much cleared up.
---
Tales of the Jailbirds
---
Tale of the Former Owner of a Pistol
---{??? POV}
???
???
Prison Cell
There was nothing but stupid stone walls as far as I could see. What wasn’t made of rock in here was either rusted piss or moldy *ess*. That was what life was right now: piss and *ess*. Drank piss for breakfast, ate *ess* for lunch, and if we were “good”, a nice serving of crap for supper. That was basically what it amounted to in this place called jail. Oh sure, they gave it fancy names like “water” and “beans”, but it all tasted like it came out of somebody’s *ah*.
I didn’t even do anything wrong. Everybody hated those hippie horses. I was just taking a job that animal control wasn’t. If those ponies were gone, then the days would reset to normal and we could all go on hating each other as usual. What was the problem?
As I stood there leaning against the stone wall, some weird background noise suddenly made itself clearer.
~Mother Feather Gentle Mare
I’m a…
I’m a…
I’m a…
Mother Feather Gentle Mare~
The *eff*? I thought.
---
Tale of the Former Brass-Knuckled Man
---{This guy’s POV}
???
???
Second Prison Cell
It was right there. The promise of cold, hard cash was right there. How the hell did I fall for such an empty deal? I don’t know what the boss was thinking, but I was now starting to think that maybe he didn’t get all of the facts straight from that anonymous client. He should have talked Mr. Mystery into paying upfront. Money like that doesn’t just fall into your hands the instant the job is completed.
People, animals, artificial intels, it didn’t matter to me. A target was a target and whoever was willing to pay me would get a painful beating on the sucker of their choice. Hell, I even got paid by one client that chose himself as the target. Assisted suicide: a gift from the most generous hired man on Earth.
When I decided to accept the job that the boss described, I didn’t think much when he said it was one of them pony creatures. It was just another target. An old guy got in the way and he took a bullet in the shoulder. Stupid old man.
Some strange beat interrupted my thoughts.
~D-D-Derpy Style
Derpy Style
Derp, derp, derp, derp
D-D-Derpy Style
Heyyyyyyyy, DJ-Pon3!
Yo, yo, yo, yo
D-D-Derpy Style~
What the hell? I thought, I didn’t even smoke anything!
---
Tale of the Former Owner of a Knife
---{What’s-his-name’s POV}
??
??
Another Prison Cell
Stupid anonymous call with the stupid anonymous tip about those stupid ponies in a job worth a stupid amount of money that the stupid boss didn’t even get. I was absolutely, adamantly angry with this stupid day. It wasn’t even a stupid pony. It looked more like some stupid bug-horse mutation… thing. What was this, stupid Alien vs. Predator? I didn’t have the stupid time for that stupid *ess*.
Now I found myself in this stupid audience area with stupid people that can’t even speak English like everybody else. This was stupid. And they were laughing. Stupid laugh tracks. I bet they weren’t even telling stupid jokes that were any good.
~I am Octavia
I am Octavia~
That voice! No… no, no, no, no! Not her again! Hadn’t that one stupid woman in my stupid life caused me enough stupid pain already? I had to cover my stupid ears with my hands just to reduce that stupid voice by one stupid decibel.
“Leave me alone!” I yelled, “You already took the kids! What more do you want from me?”
---
Tale of the Former Driver
---{Ladriew’s POV}
?
?
Yet Another Prison Cell
I didn’t sign up for this *ess*. I never asked for this. I didn’t want to be part of some assassin brotherhood, but I didn’t have any choice. I needed that frigging money for that… thing. Why didn’t they have… that thing anywhere in here? The “fresh” air was not good for my lungs if I didn’t get… that thing. I didn’t know what to do.
All I could do was lie down on the uncomfortable, stone bed while some background noise started getting louder. An accordion, a tuba, cymbals, and a banjo should never be joined like that.
“Oh, good gosh,” I moaned while rubbing my temples, “Make it stop. Change it to something else.”
The first tune stopped, only to be replaced by the same type of instruments playing something even more annoying.
“No sane person listens to polka anymore! Change it to something else!”
~When I was up late surfing and the mods were all asleep…~
“AAAAAAAAAAAH!”
---
Tale of the Narrator:
The Window Between the Fourth Wall and You
---{Narrator’s POV}
Needless to say, none of these “esteemed colleagues” had very good nights. In contrast, let us look briefly at one of the forgotten dreams of our “heroes”.
---{Cier’s POV}
????
????
????
I launched forward a trademark kunai with chain. The knife sunk into his sternum.
“Get over here!” I ordered while yanking the chain toward me.
Well, if you insist.
My opponent’s hoof was suddenly glowing bright red. The flames surrounding it almost looked like a fierce bird. I just stared at that with my jaw dropped as the hoof collided with me.
Falcon… P-P-P-Punch!
I slid backwards a bit before regaining my footing. I rubbed my cheek with a fist before unleashing my inner fiery spirit. If it wasn’t a gold glowing aura surrounding me, I didn’t know what it was. I ran forward and unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks while shouting my war cry.
“At-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!”
---{#51’s POV}
Each of his individual attacks weren’t doing much. I knew that. However, with my guard currently unavailable, I was forced to endure every single part of his combo. My face, as usual, was taking the brunt of the damage. I was barely able to back away as a much louder voice made itself known.
“Maximum!”
X-Factor, I declared while holding my hooves close before aiming them at the opponent, Shinku… Hadouken!
He got caught in the wide, blue blast of fire.
“Hyper Combo K.O.!”
Cier spun in place before falling onto his back.
“Player 2 wins!”
That was a good win, I commented as I readjusted my headband. I crossed my hooves while waiting for the page to turn.
---{Cier's POV}
Smatterday
6:00-ish A.M.
Bedroom inn
Where's my right fang? I thought while feeling the empty space that the larger tooth had occupied the past few days.
A small amount of light shined through the curtains. I used it to navigate around the bed and eventually reached the one tall mirror in this room. As I did a once over of my reflection, everything seemed normal... well, as far as being a changeling counting as normal goes. There were the same old bug wings, the same old holey hooves, the same old solid blue left eye, the same old black pupil in the right eye... wait.
What happened to my eye? I stared wide-eyed at the reflection. It seemed my right fang was missing and my right eye was more... pony-like with whites, a blue iris, and a black pupil.
Did I use the shape-shifting power while I was asleep? I wondered.
I looked back at the other bed. Mom and Dad were still sleeping. I didn't want to upset Mom by breaking my promise, but I had to check this out. With a stroke of instinct, I focused the green changeling fire around and assumed the form of Spirit Redeemer, white mane and all. As quickly as I had done that, I activated my power again.
This time, the green fires gave way to Fifty-one's normal look. I could feel my fang was back and I could see the solid blue eye had returned.
Huh, well that was weird, I shrugged as I wandered over and hopped back into bed.
---