“Ok…” Alfonz began, shifting into a more comfortable position as he took in his surroundings. “Pony hospital or human hospital…”
A quick glance at the end of his bed, which ended abruptly at his forelegs, told him all he needed to know.
“Now how in the hell did I get here…” he murmured to himself, raising his arms to examine the various cords hanging off them. It took him a moment to realize the implications of this. His limbs – including his legs, which he tested with a few idle kicks – appeared to be functional again. Upon closer inspection, he found that they were completely devoid of any obvious wounds, but radiated a fairly intense soreness upon moving.
The room around him seemed fairly standard, despite its place in a fictional universe of ponies. It was large enough to house two patients comfortably, with a retractable curtain – currently bunched up at the end of the track – to give them privacy from each other, should they desire it. Alfonz was wholly alone, however, as the bed opposite to him sat empty. The rest of the room was bland and uninteresting, with a chair in the corner closest to him, and a nightstand at the side of both beds. The windows, he quickly noticed, were barred; not exactly the best of signs, surely.
The cords leading to and from his body were connected to a number of monitoring equipment, measuring his heartbeat, temperature, and other information. Lightly adhered to his skin, none of the instruments were embedded in his flesh, thankfully, and he removed them all without incident. Freed from his bindings, the man gradually pushed himself out of bed. His initial few steps were shaky at best, as his legs groaned and cracked in stiff protest. Just how long had he been out? He felt as though he were in a coma for years.
Limping unsteadily over to the door, the man slowly turned the handle and gently pulled back. Although initially giving way, the door was swiftly halted before any real progress was made. Locked, but not by the handle itself; after a quick glance up and down its frame, Alfonz found the source of the disturbance. A bolt lock was in place, locking the door from the inside.
“What the fuck…” the man muttered to himself, glancing over his shoulder nervously. After making sure he was, in fact, completely alone, he pulled the bolt back and slowly opened the door. With just enough space to see out of, the man peered through the crack at what lay beyond. The room appeared to be at the corner of two hallways, with one directly ahead, and one directly to his left. Both, although brightly lit, seemed to be deserted, with no immediate activity in sight. At the far end of both, however, Alfonz could barely make out the imposing form of some sort of equines; guards, by the look of their armor. Royal guards.
“Ok,” Alfonz said quietly to himself, closing and locking the door once more. “What in the blue hell is the Equestrian Royal Guard doing here? They must’ve rescued me…right? I’m in the safety and care of the royal family…right?” he murmured, trying to convince himself. “Royal guards aren’t just another a regular occurrence in Ponyville…right?”
He honestly didn’t know.
By his estimate, this could either be very good or very bad. Perhaps Luna had rescued him from his peril sometime after his blackout; or perhaps Celestia had done so instead. Or, perhaps it was Cadance who had found him, and put him under lockdown. Or maybe, these guards had no influence from the royal family at all. Maybe they were working with the rest of the mob, and simply using their natural talents to keep him contained.
That day…he was trying hard to remember the events of it. He remembered his desperate attempt to get Spike to safety; he remembered his capture by the mob. He remembered the riot that had broken out as a direct result of his actions, and he remembered his encounter with the mayor of Ponyville. But after lashing out against his would-be captor, the man couldn’t remember anything. He had thought, for all intents and purposes, he was dead. Now, he thought it might’ve been better if he was.
He didn’t feel like he had lost his dignity. Although nursed back to – relatively – good health, the man could not be sure if the mob had…had their way with him, so to speak. Who knows what went on after he blacked out? It was a highly disturbing absence in his memory, one that he did not like thinking about.
But that didn’t matter now. He had to find a way out of here first and foremost, and then head to Canterlot; for Spike, of course. For Spike.
First, he had to take inventory of just what he had at his disposal. Still in his muddy, blood-stained, partially ruined t-shirt and jeans, the man was in desperate need of new clothes. Predictably, the dazzling pendant that had been around his neck, tucked away in his shirt during most of the fighting, was nowhere to be found. This meant that, should he come across any unicorns, he would have little chance of escape.
He was almost too afraid to test his remaining trump card. Luna’s spell, although allowing him to free Spike effectively, almost destroyed his limbs in the process. He did not wish to put himself at that risk again, but he had to know if it was still there. Thankfully, after a tense few minutes, he had no apparent change in his muscle mass; the spell must have run out of energy, or someone must have dispelled it. Use of the spell had, however, increased his strength in a passive sense; his body must have retained a portion of the increased muscle. It was nothing like he had summoned during his daring rescue, but it might just give him a chance against the stronger equines.
So, with all that out of the way, Alfonz had a grand total of: not much. He would have to rely on his quick wits to get out alive and unsullied, then, which may or may not be a good thing.
“Which way…left or straight…” he mused as he grabbed a small potted plant off one of the night stands. Judging from the isolation of the room and the deserted nature of the halls beyond, he had a feeling he was deep within a hospital. Whether it was Ponyville’s hospital, or Canterlot’s, he hadn’t a clue. He would just have to find out.
But which way was closer to the exit…
“Straight!” he decided, undoing the latch on the door and swinging it open with a loud bang. Without a moment’s hesitation, the man charged down the hall, stumbling the first few feet as his legs struggled to adapt to the sudden speed. Within seconds, he was directly behind his query, who had, strangely, not detected his approach. By the time she did, it was far too late; Alfonz hurled the vase at the mare’s head, shattering it into thousands of pieces upon contact. Although the blow had hit the bulk of her helmet, it did surprisingly little to lessen the damage. A moment after impact, the royal guard was slumped forward awkwardly, dazed and confused.
Alfonz was so caught up in his plan – as well as the apparent success of said plan – that he remained oblivious to the scene in front of him. Standing before the fallen guard, in a deathly silence, were an assemblage of mares, numbering at least a dozen. They were crowded in what appeared to be some sort of waiting room, and some seemed to be holding signs. It took Alfonz a solid ten seconds of tense staring to realize what he had gotten himself into.
“Uh…take THAT!” he cried suddenly, causing the ponies to jolt. “If you don’t want to be next, I suggest you get the hell out of here!” he continued, standing triumphantly over the fallen guard with an almost feral grin upon his face. Coupled with his blood-soaked clothes, he hoped his display would be enough to scare the crowd away.
“That’s him!” a mare shouted, stepping up onto a bench to better direct the crowd. “That’s the creature that attacked the mayor!”
“….You’re right!” Alfonz replied, trying to maintain his threatening appearance. “I took down your mayor because she stood in my way! I’m warning you: clear out of here, before it’s too late!”
A tense silence fell over the waiting room.
“GET HIM!”
“Oh balls!” Alfonz cried as he turned and ran back down the hall. The mob quickly trampled the royal guard separating them from their prey and followed him down the hall, shouting loudly as they went. Despite their superior speed, the man’s head start proved to be just what he needed; upon reaching his room, he immediately slammed the door shut and applied the lock. A moment later, the first of the mob impacted with the door in a senseless frenzy, banging and screaming their desire for entry. Alfonz, feeling the lock was not sufficient, grabbed the chair in the corner of the room and jammed it under the handle, further fortifying the door.
He had chosen poorly. Not only was he still in the hospital, but now his room was under siege by an angry mob. He could only hope the remaining guard would hear the commotion and restore order, but he somehow found that very unlikely. With a mob like that, it was unlikely anything short of the miracle or several days of waiting would bring them back to their senses.
He had to find another way out. Somehow.
“The window!” Alfonz said suddenly, rushing over to his barred overlook of the courtyard below. He hadn’t even bothered with it after noticing the bars, finding it to be a futile effort, but now he had no choice. He had to get the bars off.
Straining with all his might, the man could feel no budge from the bars. His arms screaming in protest, he collapsed onto his backside as he released them, breathing heavily. Maybe, if he still had Luna’s spell at his command, he could have removed them with his bare hands – and likely ruin his arms in the process.
Thinking quickly, Alfonz rushed into the bathroom – accessible by both sides of the room – and snatched the thick ceramic lid off the back of the toilet. Wedging the lid between the middle bars, the man pulled back with all his might, trying to pry an opening. Try as he might, though, his efforts made no progress.
With a loud curse, the man stepped back, swung the plank of ceramic around to pick up speed before suddenly releasing it in the direction of the window. Upon contact with the bars, the lid exploded into a cloud of shrapnel, forcing Alfonz to shield himself with his arms. Unfortunately for him, the attack did little to better his situation.
“God damn it!” he cried, rattling the bars in frustration. He had just got a new lease on life – and was feeling pretty damn good about it, too – and now he had screwed himself over once again. He was so damn sick of being in danger; it seemed like it never ended. At least at the start of his journey, he had some down time between strokes of bad luck. Now, his situation got progressively worse with little reprieve.
Alfonz slowly looked back at the door, which was still under assault by the screaming mob outside. The man’s gaze was furious; he was tired of running, he was tired of weaseling his way out of situations. Perhaps he could wait and the situation would solve itself, but what then? It would never end; there would always be a terrible fate awaiting him, and he would not always be in the condition he was in now. Last time, he hadn’t been able to put up much of a fight, but now?
If he was going out, he was going out in style.
“I am really sick of this melodramatic bullshit,” he muttered to himself, a manic grin across his face. “One last stand, with feeling this time.”
Alfonz threw the chair aside, pulled back the lock, and swung the door open wide. As the tide of ponies poured in, he took a step back, silently assessing the situation. Two immediate targets; unicorns, one in the center of the visible group and one currently on the floor.
“You want me?” he cried as the ponies floundered to recover. “You’ve got me…”