//------------------------------// // This Job's For the Birds! (Revenge Battle!) // Story: NO MORE PONIES // by Brony_Fife //------------------------------// The air of Santa Destroy could be charitably described as blistering and syrupy, like walking through a thick summertime fog of gym socks and pea soup. As Shinobu rode her bicycle through this thick heat, she elected not to shoot a menacing glare at the astral body responsible. Her snow-white hair was hanging down, made damp and spongy by her hated enemy The Heat. Her dark skin was shimmering with sweat and smelling like a spoiled taco by the time she reached the No More Heroes motel. Master claimed that he kept a spare key for his motel room behind the mailbox next to the door. She placed a hand on the mailbox, and with a strong enough shove, the mailbox slid to one side and fell downward, hanging in place by one nail. Evidently, it had been damaged some time ago and was never repaired. There, stuck to the wall by a piece of tape, was his key. Shinobu took it, unlocked the door, and entered into a fairytale world of sweet, sweet A/C. Or at least, she should have. Master’s motel room was only just barely more tolerable than outside, with his anime merchandise and wrestling magazine (as well as other magazines he probably should have kept hidden) littering the floor. The air inside was crusty and strangely cold, like an empty tomb. From somewhere in Master’s bedroom, she heard a faint meow. “Jeane?” she called. A small gray cat bounded from Master’s bedroom when she heard Shinobu call for her. Upon seeing who it was, Jeane leapt into her open arms. “How’s my favorite kitty?” Shinobu asked, giving Jeane a scratch behind her ears. “Master told me to take care of you while he was away, you know.” Jeane gave her a curious look. “Hey, don’t look at me,” Shinobu sniffed. “I don’t know how he was able to give me a phone call from another dimension, either.” She put Jeane down and looked over to the feed bowl. Empty. She’d have to fix that. She found the cat food, and as she poured some into Jeane’s bowl, she continued. “I mean, I tried asking him, but Master was pretty vague. Something about the ghost of his sensei.” After feeding Jeane, then refilling the water bowl and changing out the kitty litter, Shinobu took it upon herself to clean up a little. Maybe listen to the messages on Master’s answering machine. She still had his number on her cell from his last call; she could just relay the messages to him. She pressed a button on the answering machine/fax. “You have – 3 – new messages,” chimed the automated voice. As she gathered various undesirable items and put them into a trash bag, the first message was played. “Hellooo, this is Tammyyy, from Beef Head Videooo,” said a slow-speaking woman. Shinobu couldn’t quite attach a face to the name Tammy, so she assumed BHV must have recently hired her. “I’m calling about the videooo you were supposed to return on Mondayyy. Pleasure Islaaand?” Pleasure Island? Is that a movie based on Pinocchio? Never took Master to be an appreciator of classic literature before. Shinobu nodded as she dumped some crumpled up tissues into the trashcan, wise enough not to open them up to see what they held. She saw the video in question sitting on the shelf—on the cover, scantily-clad women fawned over a man in his forties dressed in lederhosen and cartoonish white gloves, with lines clumsily drawn here and there on his body to make him look like a puppet. She took one look at the video’s cover and cringed. Still, Shinobu took the video, intending to return it later after she left Master’s apartment. Tammy continued to drone on in her slow voice about how Master had apparently returned a different movie by mistake—one involving “a short video of whipped cream and pillows.” Shinobu blanched. Reluctantly, she looked to Master’s bed, and sighed in relief at the sight of no whipped cream—or any other suspicious elements. Apparently, Master had cleaned that up long ago. The second message came on. “Like, Oh-Em-Gee!” squealed what sounded like a young girl with a British accent, “I seem to have, totally by accident, found your private number! Which means now I know your address, Travis the Great! That means it’s only a matter of time before I find youuu~!” Shinobu listened, growing more and more uncomfortable with how the girl went on and on about what she intended to do with Master once she found him. This girl (whoever she was) was totally off her nut. She ended her call with a series of kissing sounds—and not the over-the-top type you’re likely to hear in a cartoon. It literally sounded like she was making out with the phone. Shinobu crushed her eyes shut, shaking her head slowly. That sound will forever haunt her nightmares. “-3rd- message,” chimed the automated voice. “If my calculations are correct, then this message will reach Travis Touchdown,” said a dark and elegant voice. There was an air of beauty and control to it—the kind of voice Shinobu associated with royalty or world leaders. “I insist that you cease your mad crusade at once, Travis Touchdown. I honestly do not believe you quite understand the extent of the damage you’re causing my sister’s kingdom. “This is your first and only warning. You will leave and never return… or I will find you myself.” The sudden change in tone at the last six words sent chills down Shinobu’s spine. It was as if the speaker’s heart and voice had dropped a few hundred degrees. As she continued, her voice grew ominous and deadpan. “And when I find you... I will end you. There will be nothing left of you to return to any of the loved ones a creature like you might possess. You will be merely dust in the wind, if even that. This is not a threat. This is a promise. "Stay the fuck out of our home.” A click. A dead beep. Shinobu stood there, stunned by what she’d just heard. The hasty call from Master. The fact that his drawer where he kept all his beam-katanas was empty. Now this threatening message? Shinobu quickly drew out her cell phone and dialed up Master. She got all of two rings before she was informed she couldn’t get a connection. She closed her phone, pocketed it, then looked aside at Jeane as she entered the room. Jeane looked at Shinobu with her big, brown eyes and mewled inquisitively, as if she were asking if or when her owner was coming back. A long frown split across Shinobu’s face. What was going on? Suddenly, a paper was spit from the fax machine. Shinobu raised an eyebrow, cautiously walking toward it. She took the paper from the tray and read it: -To Whom This May Concern: Please come to Equestria right away. I think our mutual acquaintance Travis Touchdown may actually be in over his head this time. —T.R. Equestria? Shinobu thought. That magical land of ponies from that cartoon show for girls? Shinobu’s mind began to connect the dots. Was Master in Equestria? Was that voice just now actually the Princess?? What was Master doing there??? There were notes at the bottom of the fax page, instructing her on how to get to Equestria through the SHIT. Shinobu cocked an eyebrow. The SHIT? The big hole in the universe scientists discovered a few weeks ago? That was an entryway to Equestria? Shinobu shrugged. It was as good an explanation as any. She once fought a psychotic superhero who’d been cut completely in half then rebuilt as a pair of cyborgs, so she supposed anything was possible at this point. Shinobu stroked Jeane. “Sorry, Jeanie,” she cooed. “Mama’s gotta run. Master’s in big trouble!” With that, she readied her katana, dusted off her black skirt, adjusted her top, then ran back out into the awful Santa Destroy heat. It seemed it was time she’d have to pay a visit to the local robotics expert/beam-katana designer/space rocket designer. All he wanted to do today was deliver. Some fucking. Pizza. It wasn’t that much to ask, right? He took up a job (once again in his Awesome Disguisetm), and expected to just do it and get paid so that he could at least gather enough money to head to his next target. The worst he expected was a crappy minigame. He did not expect a motherfucking griffon to just swoop the fuck down, and knock the fucking pizzas off the fucking Schpeltiger! And now he was motherfucking PISSED! The griffon shoved the Schpeltiger with her massive shoulder, its tires squealing in peril. Travis clenched his teeth as he tried to correct the Schpeltiger's balance, warm wind and glinting sunlight battering him from nearly every direction. When he heard a clatter on the desert road, he chanced a glance and noticed that his cellphone had dropped out of his pocket. It kissed the asphalt at nearly 150 mph, shattering on impact. Let's add that to the Reasons I'm Gonna Fuck Up This Griffon list, Travis thought. Her wings beat vociferously as she sidled up to Travis, giving the Schpeltiger another shoulder-shove. Travis lost his balance for a few seconds, and only regained it just in time for the griffon to give him one last shove, forcing the Schpeltiger off the road. Travis struggled to maintain control as dry desert earth was flung all around him, getting in his mouth, in his eyes, in his ass, every-fucking-where. As he struggled, he heard a birdlike cry just before a pair of sharp-as-fuck talons dig into his shoulders and yanked him right off the Schpeltiger. Travis watched in horror as it crashed into a tall cactus, lying still with one wheel spinning as a dust cloud quietly washed over it. “I just repaired that fucking thing!” Travis growled as the griffon carried him higher and higher. Despite the searing pain in his shoulders, Travis forced his arms to reach for his beam-katanas—struggling at first—reaching for it—come on, come on—okay, got it! With a strained grunt, Travis brought up one half the Rose Nasty, and with a flick of his thumb, it hissed to life. The moment she heard it, the griffon dropped Travis like he suddenly caught fire. Travis panicked for a second—because even badasses are allowed at least one second of worry—and then stuck the Rose Nasty out towards a cliff he was hurdling toward. It bit deeply into the cliff’s side, slowing Travis’ descent little by little, until finally coming to a stop. Once he was sure he wouldn’t fall off, Travis pulled out the other Rose Nasty, then stabbed it into a higher point on the cliff, following with the other one. He climbed up as fast as he could manage, his shoulders screaming in agony as he forced himself to keep going. He heard another birdlike scream zeroing in on him from behind. Travis took an alarmed breath as he pulled out one Rose Nasty, turned around and just as the griffon was about to slam him into the cliff, Travis thrust the Rose Nasty outward to impale her. Her body twisted in a way that implied she saw it coming a mile away, her right talon grabbing Travis’ arm and slamming it against the cliffside. Travis barked in pain. Only now did he get a good view of his attacker. He knew she was a griffon right from the start—the lion body and eagle’s head were both dead giveaways. Travis was no ornithologist, so he wasn’t totally sure her beak should be able to snarl like that. Her glaring golden eyes were set inside blueish feathered recesses. The white feathers on her head were larger and longer than the rest she had, as if it was supposed to resemble a butch haircut. “Rainbow Dash,” she growled. “What about her?” “You killed her.” “AND???” Travis pushed her off with a boot thrust hard into her stomach, sending her spiraling off and down the cliff, clutching her middle as she desperately sucked air back into her lungs. Travis continued his climb up, finally reaching the top of the cliff just as he heard the griffon come back. His shoulders ached, his right arm felt like shit, his pizzas were ruined, his boss wasn’t gonna be happy, his whole day was shot to fuck—and this bitch was gonna pay! He assumed his usual stance with the Rose Nasty—one blade above, one below—and steeled himself as the griffon flew upwards and around the top of the cliff. She circled about a little before dipping a wing and soaring straight for him, one wing lowered enough to act as a razor-saw. Travis rolled underneath it, a loud force of wind ripping by as the griffon passed. The griffon turned, fluttered her wings, then landed. Now that she was on all four feet, she looked even more predatory—her lion body sending all kinds of dangerous signals with every step she took. “You killed Rainbow Dash!” she shouted. “You killed her!” Travis stood up. “Yeah. I repeat. AND???” If looks could kill, Travis would have been... well, mildly tickled. Travis was too badass to be hurt by ugly looks. “She was my friend!” she roared. Travis shook his head and laughed. “I already saw that fucking episode. It was the only one I actually had the stomach to sit and watch all the way through.” The griffon looked flabbergasted. “…WHAT?” “Yeah. Your name, I forget—” “I’m GILDA, motherfucker!” “Yeah, Gilda. I saw how things ended between you and Rainbow Dash. Wasn’t pretty. In fact, I’d swear Rainbow Dash hated the shit outta you.” Gilda paused. Her teeth clenched. She has teeth to clench? Travis thought. “I—she—it wasn’t—I—guh—d’wha--!” The words and pieces of words tumbled out of Gilda’s beak, gradually blubbering into barely-held tears. Finally, she stomped a talon. “She and I might not have been on good terms at the end, but she was the best friend I ever had!” Travis shook his head as he readied himself again. “Jesus Christ, you’re like some clingy ex-girlfriend who can’t get over a bad breakup!” Gilda ran at him, her talons extending like knifeblades shooting from their handles. “I’ll break you up, freak!” Travis darted forward, intent on meeting her halfway. “Let the bloodbath begin!” Travis ran at her. Gilda ran at him. Travis ran at her. Gilda ran at him. Travis ran at her. Goddamn this cliff is long, he thought. Finally, they clashed—this one loud sound of earth breaking, angels falling from heaven, demons shuddering in fear. It was like the climactic swing of a sword in a samurai movie, where everything would pause just before someone got decapitated. A few seconds trickled by as Travis and Gilda held their breaths. Finally, Travis felt it—a huge rip at his side, four long lines tearing through his jacket, decimating his shirt, gouging out chunks of flesh, blood spitting out of his side and coloring the ground in splotches of red. “Oh, shit!” he choked as he fell to one knee. Gilda resumed her breathing. She turned around, smiling in victory as she saw Travis clutching at his bleeding side. “End of the road, freak,” she said smugly. “See you in Tartarus.” She extended her talons again—those knives extending from their sheathes, ready to take another bite. When she drew her arm back, Gilda suddenly had an odd loss of control. She blinked in surprise as she suddenly felt several feet shorter, a feeling of suspension in mid-air, and got a good view of the clouds above. Then intense pain as she hit the dirt. “What the fuck?!” Her headless body shot a waterspout of blood as it fell to its knees, its raised talon frozen in place. Travis grinned despite all the horrible, awful, terrible, not-at-all-pleasant pain he was feeling at the moment. “I thought I felt something pass through the Rose Nasty,” he said. “No fair!” Gilda’s head gurgled. “Take it up with fate,” Travis said flatly. “And when you end up in hell—or Tartarus, or where-the-fuck-ever—tell Rainbow Dash she’s still a bitch.” Suddenly, Gilda’s body swung the raised talon, getting Travis in the back hard enough to send him careening over the edge of the cliff. Gilda’s head looked at the spectacle of Travis spinning about before finally falling with a cartoonish yelp. Her body fell to the ground with a muted thud, dust puffing upward as blood continued to spill from her neck. Gilda smiled. Then her smile froze as her eyes glazed over. So let’s try this again. Travis corrected himself in time to not splatter on the ground. He stuck his Rose Nasty into the side of the cliff, his descent slowing gradually. The pain in his sides, shoulder, and back all wailed in a harmonious, agonized choir. Travis grunted a laugh as he slid down the cliffside. “Fucking bird,” he laughed. “Forgot I could still do this.” He laughed aloud as his descent finally neared its stop. Travis was pretty close to the foot of the cliff, so he decided he’d just hop down, patch himself up a bit, then get to the Schpeltiger, go back to civilization, get hospitalized, lose his current temp job, and start all over again tomorrow. However, Travis didn’t check to see where his little hop would land him—and for his efforts, Travis landed in a rather expansive patch of cacti. His scream could be heard from space. GILDA: KAPUTSKI