//------------------------------// // The Delicious Magic Trick! (Part I) // Story: NO MORE PONIES // by Brony_Fife //------------------------------// Travis didn’t recall much between when he walked out of the Appleloosa orchard and when he arrived back in Ponyville. His legs moved him out of their own accord, scuffing against dirt, pavement, and grass, while his mind was just… someplace. Or maybe no place at all; it was kinda hard to tell. The last time he’d felt this deflated after a victory, Travis had done something similar. In between evenings where he felt too depressed even to masturbate, he was just mindlessly doing odd job after odd job, attempting to busy himself until he could get his mind back on track. But no matter what odd job he worked, no matter how many weeds he pulled or fish he caught or pipes he fixed, Travis couldn’t shake his mind of the last conversation he had with Applejack. Yeah, he was fucked up. Yeah, he loved violence. And yeah, he wanted stuff. But what did she mean when she told him he didn’t understand that there’s solace in death? He’d seen that same look of peace just before death on quite a few other people—Holly Summers, Captain Vladimir, Margaret Moonlight—and he understood what it meant. …Or did he? He was so used to seeing it on the faces of some of his foes that he thought he understood it well enough. Or was it like cocaine or sex? Something you had to experience yourself in order to truly understand it? Or maybe she was just fucking with him and didn’t mean anything. No, that didn’t make sense—she’s supposed to be, like, some Element of Honesty or some shit, right? She wouldn’t be honest if she were into mind games. Maybe she was just being honest about her opinion of him… but then again, her honest opinion of him was worded so vaguely, it made his brain go ppppbbbttttthhhh. Whatever. Upset, confused, and a little bored, Travis was relieved when he saw the poster. Seemed there was a magician headed this way—someone who claimed to be “Great and Powerful.” He’d seen the poster about a month back and wondered to himself why a bunch of unicorns would even have use for a magic show. Like, didn’t they all use magic? What was so special about stage magic’s subterfuge and misdirection? Maybe there were like, different levels of magic or something, I dunno. Whatever the case, the magic show interested Travis greatly. It looked like just the thing to take his mind off his recent win/loss. So there he was, in the Ponyville Theatre, in his usual disguise, waiting for the show. The theatre itself was gaudy and… what’s the word… oh, fuck it—the theatre was pony-riffic. It was a brand-new word that indicated pony statues, paintings, motifs, and so on, done up in ways Travis found unnecessary, pretentious, and unnecessarily pretentious. And pretentiously unnecessary. Travis hated it. But at least the popcorn wasn’t bad. He’d been seated for maybe five minutes, lazily munching on popcorn, half-wondering why he was even here before he realized something. It was quiet. Too quiet. Travis looked about himself, taking in the eerie oceans of empty seats on either side of him. No ponies behind him or in front, either. Before he could wonder where the exact fuck the rest of the audience was, however, the lights around him dimmed. A spotlight fell onto a pony wearing a fancy green jacket with an equally green bowtie. She sauntered onto the stage, her fiery curls bobbing about her neck as her sunny hooves clip-clopped across the wooden floor. She turned to face the seats with a theatrical twirl, her bright green eyes shimmering as the spotlight’s sight danced across them. “Fillies and gentlecolts!” she announced before realizing there was no audience to address. Her face contorted for a second as the sounds of crickets lifted to her ears. Her eyes fixed onto Travis, and suddenly she became a little more steeled. “F-Fillies and gentlecolts,” she began again, “as a warning, this theater would like to attest that the astounding feats of magic you are about to witness might blow your mind inside-out! Viewer discretion is advised. Introducing—” She was interrupted as the red curtain behind her shuffled a bit. Travis heard a voice whispering as the mare’s face froze stupidly for a moment. “Re-introducing,” the mare amended, “the GREAT! And POWERFUL—” Before the mare could finish, the curtains lifted as pyrotechnics flashed and fanfare played, settling into calliope music. A blue pony leapt high into the air above the stage, her star-splattered purple cape and stereotypical witchy-poo hat fluttering as she descended, landing in front of the announcing mare—who at this point adopted a tired frown and surrendering eyes. “TR-R-R-RIXIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” yelled the mare emphatically. The flashing pyrotechnics exploded at her interjection, their spectral stars and fireballs forming the performer’s name above her head before dissipating like fireworks. How modest. “Watch! And be amaaaaazed!” howled Trixie as she waved a hoof hard enough to count as a punch. “The Great and Powerful Trrrrrixie has returned from a journey of self-discovery! A journey that involved the discovery not only of Trixie herself, but her truest potential!” The announcing mare’s mouth turned up at one end as she trotted off-stage, clearly amused as she shook her head. Trixie meanwhile continued her rant—I’d write most of it here, but Trixie went on for a while. It was as if half her show was about how awesome she was without really proving it. So basically, just like your average rap musician. Travis was already bored before Trixie even started her routine, and even after she finally shut the fuck up and did some stage magic, he wasn’t impressed. Maybe it was his battle with Rarity, but now that he’d seen how awesome unicorn magic could be in a fight, he couldn’t accept anything else. That one other magician Travis fought years ago—Harvey something-or-other—would probably have pointed and laughed… or maybe give her constructive criticism. He was actually rather polite. Trixie’s act really could use the improvement. Teleporting out of a tank of water resulted in Trixie taking the water out of the tank with her, dousing the entire stage and shorting out some of the equipment. Turning a tiger into a kitten only resulted in the tiger becoming angry and chasing Trixie around the stage… ruining the rest of the stage equipment. In short, she was entertaining, but for the wrong reasons. “I didn’t know this was a comedy act!” Travis said, laughing his ass off. As the other mare lured the tiger back into its cage with a piece of steak, Trixie’s head snapped in Travis’ direction. Her eyes flew wide as she took in her only audience member, who was holding his sides. Pointing. Laughing. Laughing. “Epic fail!” Travis crowed. “Epic motherfucking fail! I bet failure must, like, run in your family or something—nobody could fail that hard all on their own!” Trixie’d been heckled before. She’d withstood the neigh-sayers, the skeptics, the bullies, the shmucks, inviting many on-stage to outwit and embarrass, to put them in their proper place beneath a Great and Powerful mare. But this… “Nopony… talks that way… about… my…!” Trixie growled through clenched teeth, her eyes bulging, becoming red. Her red-haired assistant looked at her with wide eyes and a perplexed twist for a mouth, apparently unused to seeing Trixie boiling with this much contempt for another living being. “Uh… Trix?” she asked timidly. “…You okay?” Trixie jerked her head back, a dangerous look in her eyes. “Trixie will be perfectly proper once she puts this putrid palooka in his place!” “You sure that’s a smart thing to—” Trixie waved a hoof impatiently out to the empty theatre. “Is there an audience?!” “Just him.” “Precisely!” “Hey, where’s my fucking magic show?!” Travis called up. “I didn’t pay eleven of those weird… horsey-coin thingies to just sit on my ass and watch you fail at everything.” That dangerous look in Trixie’s eyes tripled. Her silvery mane bristled as she clenched her teeth, snorted a hot rush of air that blew back her assistant’s mane in a gust— then resumed a pleasant demeanor as she turned around, big smile on her face as she once again looked out at her adoring audience. Facetiously, Trixie struck a pose as she announced, “For Trixie’s NEXT trick, she’s gonna make a bitch disappear! DO WE HAVE ANY VOLUNTEERS, I think you'll do nicely, COME ON UP HERE ASSHOLE!!!” Travis felt a slight burning sensation envelope him—then he was launched through the air and slammed on stage. The spotlight shone down on Travis as he stood back up, looking Trixie right in the eye. Her face blanched, her eyes wide with surprise. “What? The fuck you looking at?” It was only then Travis realized his Awesome Disguise (tm) had fallen off when he was thrown onstage. “You!” the red-haired assistant barked in surprise. “You’re that guy from the newspapers! The Element Killer!” “That what they’re calling me now?” Travis said nonchalantly. “Real fucking original. Remind me to give ’em a goddamn medal.” Trixie’s mind wheeled. He’d killed three of the Element Bearers already. No doubt he had Twilight Sparkle in his sights as well… “Element Killer,” she began. “I believe we’ve established that bullshit already,” Travis spat as he reached for his beam katana belt. He plucked the Tsubaki from its holster, readying it as its single, three-foot fang flicked to life predatorily. “Can’t say I fucking care for the title, though. You can call me…” He struck a badass samurai pose. “…Travis Touchdown.” “You can call me unimpressed,” the assistant said with a dismissive frown. “Travis Touchdown,” Trixie said, ignoring her assistant and taking a step forward. “You intend on killing Twilight Sparkle as well, don’t you?” “That purple bitch? Yeah, she’s on my shit list too.” Trixie’s assistant frowned. “Really?” she asked with some derision. “You think you can take on a Princess? Celestia’s own prized student?” “Celestia?” Travis asked. “That the queen pony?” “She’s a Princess,” the assistant corrected. “And a very powerful magician who passed her knowledge onto other ponies.” “Like Twilight?” The assistant removed her green bowtie and tossed it aside. “Like me,” she growled, removing her jacket and letting it settle onto the stage. “Oh-ho-ho-hooo, a two-on-one battle,” Travis crowed with a Cheshire smile. “Can’t wait to get started!” He shot forth, his blade ready, only for the assistant pony to raise a hoof to stop him. “Hold on there, sport,” she said. “You took a moment to ready your weapon; it’s only fair we get to ready ours.” She looked aside to Trixie and nodded. “Trixie! Binding Magic For Intertwining Destinies, Spell 83.” Trixie’s eyes widened. “S-Spell 83?” She looked this way and that hectically, as if she were asked a particularly tough personal question. “But Sunset Shimmer, we already tried that one! It didn’t—” “We’re using it,” Sunset demanded. “Just focus.” With some hesitance, Trixie assumed a wizard’s stance, one front hoof off the ground and curled up beneath her barrel, her head bowed, her horn aglow. Sunset Shimmer copied this stance, the both of them close enough to each other so as to cross horns. Their lights—blue and green—mixed and became one, enveloping their entire bodies into one hell of a lightshow. Stars rose from the floor around them, wind whipping upward like a sparkling tornado. The two unicorns were then swallowed by a shaft of bluish-green light that burned for half past eternity, so bright Travis to shield his face from it. Then, all at once, the light died. Travis brought his hand down, opening his eyes to something he only ever saw when he took that cocaine at that one party that one time—I swear it was only once. On four legs stood a unicorn twice as tall as Travis. Its pelt was an ice blue, with a rolling snow-white mane and tail that flowed as if it were on fire. Where the ass-tats were was a yin-yang symbol in a constant rolling motion. Its legs, like its body, were long and slender and powerful, with the same snow-white fire billowing from its fetlocks. Its horn must have been about as long as the Tsubaki Travis held in his hands. But at the end of the unicorn’s horn was a red fireball about as big as your head (or one of Travis’ testicles), burning brightly, angrily. Within the fireball’s glowing core was a pair of cool green eyes—Sunset’s eyes. It spoke, both mares’ voices clamoring over each other at once. “Let the bloodbath begin!” Then it charged.