It wasn’t so much a gallop as it was bounding leaps. As the merged, maddened mare barreled down on Travis, he was nimble enough to dodge her opening charge, but not nimble enough to land a strike on her legs, the Tsubaki hissing as it bit through a whole lot of nothing.
The giant unicorn disappeared—dissolving into thin air as her fluttering laughter echoed through the entire theatre.
“Uh-oh!” she crowed in a mocking, menacing tone. “Where’d that big bad unicorn go?”
Travis stood stock-still, his samurai stance unwavering because it’s awesomer like that. His eyes flicked cautiously around the theater, a bead of sweat running down his temple, his teeth clenched, his fingers wrapping around the Tsubaki’s handle as the unicorn chuckled sinisterly, echoing eerily from all around him.
Her voice barked from one end of the stage. “Are they over here?”
From the other end: “Maybe they’re over here!”
From the ceiling: “No, no! Up here! Up here!”
Finally, from behind Travis: “BOO!”
Travis spun like a tornado, the Tsubaki up and forming its menacing yellow half-moon—and striking nothing. The unicorn, wherever the fuck she was, laughed her head off like a child whose prank was pulled successfully.
“Enough of this bullshit!” Travis growled. “A great and powerful magician shouldn’t have to—”
Something struck him in the stomach, lifting him up off his feet and launching him backwards, barreling across the stage, where he flopped and rolled to a stop.
Evidently, this wasn’t a battle meant for brute force. No Thunder Ryu around meant Travis would have to employ his own strategy. He thumbed through his mind for any scrap of useful knowledge. After scouring several volumes of stupid shit, Travis came up with an idea that would probably have worked, if only he hadn’t left his fire extinguisher and toothbrush at home.
Before he could come up with anything, Travis noticed the snow-white flames forming on the stage. They rose from the stage’s floor as if being pulled up, then glowed for a second before being launched like bullets. Travis’ legs coiled and sprung, launching him into a defensive roll. Strangely, though the fireballs exploded against different objects, nothing they hit caught fire.
Wiggy.
Then he heard her giggling again, reverberating all across the stage, bubbling and bouncing all around him. This time, he was ready.
Travis realized now that… well, for the sake of convenience let’s just call her Shimmermoon. Yeah that sounds pretty cool. Anyway, Shimmermoon used her laugh to disorient him. Years of stage performance and work in the live entertainment business meant that one half of Shimmermoon—Trixie—had learned the art of misdirection.
One such art? Throwing her voice.
Thusly, instead of listening for the more obvious sound—the menacing giggle—he listened for the less-obvious, careful clip-clop of tip-toeing hooves on wood. When he heard her approach him from the side, Travis knelt down low, then sprung up spinning. His lips curled into a Cheshire grin as he felt that satisfaction of hard light connecting with flesh, the scent of ozone and burnt meat lifting into his nostrils.
The two voices screamed in unison as the giant unicorn popped back into visibility, backing away, stumbling around on its too-long legs. The red fireball that burned at the tip of its horn glowed, its shimmering green eyes wide with anger.
“What are you doing?!” growled Sunset Shimmer. “Tag out before you get us killed! Tag out, tag out!”
Before Travis could dive back in and land another blow, she leapt high into the air with a marvelous backflip (though how the everlovin’, blue-eyed fuck a horse can backflip is beyond human comprehension), the red fireball bathing the blue unicorn in scarlet fireworks.
When the unicorn landed, it shook the entire stage, then stood up. Travis had been knocked flat on his ass by the impact, and when he looked into Shimmermoon’s eyes he knew what was gonna come next would not be fun.
Shimmermoon was no longer in the form of a blue unicorn, instead a human shape with golden skin. The snow-white flame that acted as mane and tail for the unicorn now burned as a bright fiery cape of hair that cascaded down her back, stopping just above her ankles, while said ankles and her wrists also burned with the same bright-red flame. Her cool green eyes glimmered as she grinned, showing off a mouth full of shark’s teeth. Her ears were long and pointy, giving her a resemblance to those elves you’d read about in fantasy novels. She stood up to her full height, revealing she was still twice as tall as Travis—and to Travis’ dismay, though she was naked and had some magnificent titties, Shimmermoon lacked the more-interesting features of female anatomy.
She still had a horn on her head, same length as before, only this time the fireball at the end burned bright blue, with a pair of purple eyes—Trixe’s eyes—glaring Travis down.
Travis jumped back up to his feet. “Nice,” he said earnestly. “Tag-team shapeshifting. You two know how to run one hell of a fight. Let’s see what other tricks you got up your sleeve!”
He should have known something was wrong when he ran at her, Tsubaki raised, and she didn’t so much as flinch. He should have known something would go wrong if he swung that Tsubaki at her. But alas, Travis Touchdown figured no such outcome until it was too late—the Tsubaki’s hard light was pinched between her two fingers, stopping Travis mid-swing.
Her one hand held the Tsubaki, while the other curled into a fist and punched Travis in the gut, sending him up to the ceiling. Then into the ceiling. Then off the ceiling. Then back down to the stage. He only noticed a second after landing that the Tsubaki was no longer in his hands. He glanced up to see Shimmermoon twirling the Tsubaki playfully like it was a baton.
“New form means new powers,” Shimmermoon growled as she turned the Tsubaki off and tossed it to another corner of the stage, where it clattered distantly. “Let’s see how tough you are without your toys, you macho little fuck.”
She reached down and pulled Travis up by his hair. Then she lifted him up and, holding him with both hands, spun him around her head like that one guy did with Will Smith in the opening credits to Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, before finally slamming him onto the stage with a back-drop.
There was a darkness that exploded with stars. Shimmermoon might have said something, but whatever it was had been hushed by the ringing in Travis’ ears. He felt her long fingers dig into his shoulders as she yanked him up to his feet, and with a sharp jerk on his arm, Shimmermoon tripped him with one foot, then chased after him with a body slam, pinning him to the floor.
She crossed her forearms over Travis’s neck, her shark teeth glistening darkly in that wide, menacing smile, her green eyes aglow with ecstasy. She giggled as she squeezed her thighs around his middle, crushing him little by little.
Normally, finding himself pinned under a hot lady was pretty high on Travis’ to-do list, but as of right now, he figured out that there was always a dark side to every fantasy. For instance, this lady, twice his height, was also twice his weight, and bearing down on him with malicious, crushing intent. Secondly, her body heat was atrociously high—he’d felt stinging sensations when she grabbed him, and now it felt like he’d been caught under a lit stove.
There was no air in his lungs. His skin was beginning to sizzle. No way to escape such a pin. Losing oxygen too fast…
His vision began to halo as he felt her snort acrid breath over his face. “You obnoxious little fuck!” she spat. “You call this a fight?! You’d never beat Twilight if this is the best you can do!”
There had to be some way out of this situation.
Travis’ eyes widened. In fact, there was.
Even though the way she’d pinned him was effective at reducing his arms to helplessly flailing paddles, he still had some motor control—and with this gift, he used his hands for the other thing a man should use it for besides violence and masturbation.
He grabbed Shimmermoon’s breasts and gave them a hard squeeze.
The look on her face was sudden, shocking, and hilarious (though not as funny as the blue fireball’s awkwardly-squinting eyes). It was all the indication Travis needed. Teeth clenched, he brought his forehead up, getting Shimmermoon in the nose. As she recoiled from the impact, Travis followed it with rolling her onto her side, getting a knee into her stomach.
At last, Travis was free. Smokey and struggling for air, but free. Looking aside, he saw his Tsubaki and dove for it—but being as light-headed as he currently was, his dive was more of a bumbling forward-collapse.
His hand found the Tsubaki almost without input from Travis’ brain, and clenched around its hilt. As Travis struggled to his feet, a fist came up to greet his stomach, each knuckle popping as searing heat and pain knocked him upward, off his feet and onto his ass.
“You oughta know better than to touch a lady without her permission!” Shimmermoon growled.
Despite the beating Travis had taken thus far, he drew from the well of awesome (or perhaps, the well of stupid), drank deeply, and kicked back up onto his feet. He wiped the blood from his nose and pocketed his Tsubaki.
“You didn’t seem shy about getting physical before,” he retorted, reaching for the Peony.
Shimmermoon barreled toward him, each footstep its own stampede, elbow and shoulder thrust outward, intent on flattening Travis like an oncoming train. As the Peony sprung from its hilt, Travis side-stepped Shimmermoon’s charge, holding the Peony’s ten-foot, blood-red laser blade at such an angle that it struck her sharply in the shins, tripping her.
She flipped through the air, and screamed only when she was about to slam into some stage equipment. That entire part of the stage came down with a crash, caving in on Shimmermoon and covering her in various electronics and machines.
Travis walked languidly towards Shimmermoon, the Peony humming sinisterly as he held it over his shoulder like a motherfucking badass. Suddenly, in a burst of white light, Shimmermoon sprung out from under the pile of damaged equipment, once again in unicorn mode.
Without pausing to let her make some kind of fucking stupid monologue, Travis brought the Peony down, only for Shimmermoon to teleport with a bright blue pop.
“Not this teleport shit again,” Travis growled, looking all around him. As if vanishing wasn’t annoying enough...
Shimmermoon had teleported to another part of the stage, her snow-white mane and tail whipping and twirling like an inferno, falling to just behind her neck. “Spotlight, please!” she called.
Travis didn’t even know there was anyone else here working the theater, but sure enough, spotlights cascaded down on her, three in all. She then slowly strutted the stage like a runway model. Rarity would have been proud.
He heard some kind of whining coming from above him. Quickly, Travis performed another roll-dodge, nearly escaping an incoming white fire bomb. It struck the stage with a shuddering boom. Travis looked upward, watching as more white fire was dropped from the ceiling, simply appearing mid air instead of being shot from Shimmermoon’s horn like before.
Being forced into constantly moving to avoid getting shit on with fire didn’t count as a fun time for Travis. As he ran to Shimmermoon—still strutting with slow, powerful, graceful movements—he readied the Peony. He swung.
It hit the light… then rebounded. It was as if he were trying to strike sheet metal with a rolled-up newspaper, except not as effective.
The rebound left Travis stumbling backwards, and of course, one of the white fire bombs landed on him with a shattering kaboom. Well, there went another set of clothes. He stood there with a vacant stare, smoking like a fish on a grill.
Shimmermoon squealed with laughter. “Well, what do you know! Looks like mine’s harder!!”
More white fire dropped from above as Shimmermoon watched Travis dodge—and dodge—and dodge. Soon, Shimmermoon grew bored with watching Travis, and decided to change the rules of the game a little.
Pillars of blue fire shot up from the ground, one right after the other, chasing Travis as he struggled to think over what he could do to bring down Shimmermoon’s forcefield. Let’s see: hard light—made hard probably by magic—break the horn?—no, the horn’s on the other side of the forcefield—but maybe—what if—divide by the square root of hairs on a yak—so much science.
Eventually, the answer popped into his head sometime between getting run breathless and getting burnt. Travis’ eyes shot up to the stage lights. They were a little too high to reach, even with the Peony. He’d have to approach this one differently.
Sheathing the Peony, he returned the Tsubaki to his hands and turned, waiting for the next fireball. Sure enough, there one came, dropping down from above like that cage in a game of Mouse Trap. He struck a stance—this time, baseball player instead of the samurai—then took aim and swung.
The fireball was knocked back upward, smacking into the stage light and bringing it down—and with it, one shaft of hard light.
Shimmermoon gasped, her eyes wide, her teeth clenched, the red fireball on her horn gaping in shock. “Shit,” she growled. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Up came the pillars again, Shimmermoon avoiding the fireballs since that would only give him more ammo. Travis ran, his legs pumping like pistons, propelling him across the stage, off the stage, through the theatre seats, and finally, shooting right up underneath the other stage light, destroying it.
Travis had taken out the Rose Nasty at this point, shooting back up onto the theatre stage like he was motherfucking BATMAN, bringing both hot-pink blades down on Shimmermoon—once—twice—a kick to her knee—upward slash—downward slash—then a cross-slash finisher.
Shimmermoon stumbled backwards in shock, the red fireball on her horn glowing. “Trixie, what are you doing?!” Sunset chastised. Without waiting for Trixie to respond, Shimmermoon spun, the scarlet fireworks changing her shape once again to the wrestler/fantasy elf, her fiery hair flailing under an unfelt breeze, stopping to just beneath her shoulders.
Out came the Peony.
Shimmermoon leapt into the air like she was an extra in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, coming down when she was above Travis. He jumped out of the way in the nick of time, but was blown back by the aftershock of Shimmermoon’s mighty stomp.
Travis flattened against a pillar, his back screaming from pain and want for revenge. As he got back up to his feet, Shimmermoon once again barreled for him, the whole stage shaking, her left arm outstretched for a clothesline takedown.
Travis decided to meet her midway, the Peony giving his attack some range. But just as he swung, Shimmermoon revealed her clothesline takedown was a feint—she crouched low, the Peony aiming for a face that was no longer there, now with both arms stretched out for a grab.
She picked Travis up with both arms, wrapping them around his middle as she jumped up about as high as before, spiraled upside-down, then rocketed downward. The impact was enough to loosen the ceiling, numerous panels falling like snowflakes onto the theatre seats below. Heavy snowflakes that could kill on impact, but hey, you know, metaphors and all that.
Shimmermoon got up off Travis, breathing in a deep breath victoriously, the blue flame on her horn chuckling wickedly. “Learned that one from wrestling class in high school,” she said with a nod. Travis could only gurgle in response.
She knelt down and grabbed Travis by the ankles. “This one, I picked up from an Italian plumber.”
Travis felt his body lift off the stage, and a dizzying nausea gripped him as he took flight in tight circles, Shimmermoon spinning him ’round and ’round. The dreaded moment when Shimmermoon let go came and, with unbelievable speed, Travis was launched like a cannonball, taking off to the ocean of empty seats.
He landed on his head, so he was totally safe.
But the rest of his body felt a lot of the effect. It wasn’t a struggle to get back up—it became a war. By the time he’d finally gotten back up to standing height, Shimmermoon had casually walked the length of the entire theatre, fists on admittedly attractive hips, her head cocked analytically, her lips twisted into a smirk.
“Fuck, you just don’t know when to die, do you?” she asked scornfully.
“You don’t get to be number one by letting a little thing like death get in your way,” Travis spat. He squinted his eyes a little more closely at Shimmermoon. Was her…?
Her hair had been to the ankles before, hadn’t it? Why was it now only down to just her shoulders?
Then it hit him. The Cheshire smile worked its way back onto his face.
With renewed vigor—and every muscle in his body begging him to reconsider—Travis raised the Peony and swung. Shimmermoon raised her arms, crossing them to guard against the blow. Then he swung again. And again. And again.
And with every block, Shimmermoon’s hair grew shorter and shorter.
Just like how his beam katanas had a battery, so did Trixie’s and Sunset’s own weapon. It looked like they only had a little juice left. If he could just press the attack a little more, maybe…
Finally, Shimmermoon gave a push against Travis, knocking him off his feet and over some seats. With a mighty yell, she raised both fists into the air, ready to bring them down and murder the shit out of Travis’ face.
She brought the fists down.
Travis brought the Peony up.
And then there was a flash of blue-green light.
Trixie felt the floor before she saw it, and it greeted her with a malicious punch to the everything.
Her energy was straight-up gone—Spell 83 had sucked both her and Sunset dry. Sunset Shimmer herself had been socked clean away, spiraling through the air, across the stage, into the main stage light, where she got a nice tan to go with the sizzling pain.
Trixie lifted her head as she watched Sunset shimmer, her pelt blackening, her mane sticking out at funny angles. Her heart sunk as her mentor finally peeled off the now-broken stage light, falling all the way down and landing with a shuddering thud.
Her first instinct was to go to Sunset and make sure she was okay, or even still alive—an instinct thwarted by her aching, unresponsive limbs. Spell 83 took too much out of her, so much it left her weak and thirsty and dizzy and sluggish.
And dead, if the hissing red beam of hard light hovering next to her head any say in the matter. Trixie could feel its heat prickling against the pelt on her face, and could hear Travis’ raspy, tired breath.
The red beam glowered as it was raised. Trixie turned her head to see Travis holding the Peony like a golfer readying a swing.
There was no way out of this, a part of Trixie told herself. Just… Just let it happen. He’ll make it quick. There’s no point in resisting, just let it happen.
Just as Travis was about to bring the Peony down, there came a—
“MASTER, WAIT!!!”
…shout. (I hate it when the characters beat me to the dialogue.)
Travis turned his head as a creature similar to his design—but noticeably feminine, with dark skin, snow-white hair, and goth chick clothing—jumped down from the rafters. She looked like she’d just ran a million miles. “Whoo!” she said, getting her bearings, “I made it just in time!”
“Shinobu?” Travis asked, lowering the Peony. “The fuck are you doing here?”
“I came,” Shinobu said before wheezing some air back into her lungs, “to stop you.”
Travis looked from Shinobu to Trixie, then back. “You’re... gonna fight me? Seriously?”
Shinobu looked at him, puzzled. “…Maybe I should rephrase that,” she said.
“Then fucking rephrase it,” Travis retorted impatiently.
Shinobu took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. “I mean, I’m here to stop you from killing these two. They’re… uh… important.”
Travis gave her the biggest what ever.
She raised her hands defensively. “Look, I get you’re confused, Master, so am I. I’ll explain everything later. Right now, I just need you to not kill them.”
“It’s… fine,” Trixie said, suddenly pitiable.
Both Travis and Shinobu looked to her, surprised.
Trixie struggled back up to her hooves. “You know, I trained my heart out under Sunset Shimmer’s mentorship. Before I met her, I really screwed up. I got the entire kingdom of Equestria on my ass every time I stuck it out the door.” She scoffed. “She trained me for almost a whole year before I decided to get back into show business, to show off how much I’d grown. But…”
Trixie looked out at the empty theater, her eyes grey, her heart broken, her voice flat. “I left those posters hanging up for three weeks to get plenty of time for advertisement. And this jerk’s the only one who showed up.”
Her words hung damply in the air before she sighed. “Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe there really isn’t any hope for me… just like they always said.”
Travis popped an eyebrow as Trixie sat down like a defeated dog. “They always said I was trash,” she said in sudden bitterness. “Because my dad was the town drunk. Because they thought a worthless drunkard couldn’t produce anything of any value.” Her voice grew angrier. “Well, they never knew him, and they never knew me. He might never have been sober for longer than five hours, but he also never hit me, never missed a day of work, and never missed my birthdays. Everything Daddy did, he did for me!”
She could no longer fight the salty tears running down her face as her last sentence echoed in the stadium. “But every story has an ending, doesn’t it?” she asks with a choked smile. “Mine just came sooner. I kinda wish it was a little happier, like in one of Daddy’s bedtime stories… but beggars can’t be choosers.”
She looked at Shinobu. “It was valiant of you to try to stop this, but it’s okay,” she said softly. “Really. Nopony’s… gonna miss a failure like me. It's okay.”
Silence. Suddenly, there came a clumsy clip-clop of hooves. Everyone looked behind Trixie to see Sunset Shimmer, burnt but very much alive, hobbling over, wearing a scowl. She stopped in front of Trixie. Snorted.
Then popped her across the jaw.
“Shut up!” she said angrily, her voice shaking. “I don’t ever wanna hear that bullshit out of you again! Understand?”
Trixie looked at her like a child who’d just gotten spanked by her mom. She merely nodded dumbly, holding the side of her face where Sunset’s hoof connected.
Then Sunset swept Trixie into a tight hug, tears streaking down her singed face. She sniffled, burying her face in Trixie’s mane. “Don’t ever say that,” she murmured. “D-Don’t ever.”
There was a pause as the two ponies embraced. The Peony gave a hiss as its blade slunk back into its sheath. Travis put it back onto his belt as he turned away.
Shinobu turned to look at him—and caught something sparkling as it fell from her Master’s eye. “Let’s just go,” he said curtly as he exited the theater. Shinobu looked from the exit, to Trixie and Sunset. She smiled as she followed her Master out.
TRIXIE LULAMOON and SUNSET SHIMMER:
DOUBLE K.O.