//------------------------------// // Chapter III: Bar Fight // Story: A Princess and Her Queen // by kildeez //------------------------------// It all started when Neon Glow decided to spend the night clubbing, hoping to finally snag "Mr. Right" at some tavern somewhere. Sure, the last few times she'd tried this hadn't worked out so well, but like they say, twelfth time's the charm, right? The night had started out like all the others: free-flowing booze, floozies in too much makeup grinding their rears against the crotches of dudes in too much hair gel, and her nursing a martini alone at the bar, the closest she got to a conversation being when the barkeep asked if she wanted a cherry in hers tonight. She'd turned it down. A cherry would've seemed too fillyish. And then he showed up. The stallion with the slicked back, but not greasy, hair and the easygoing eyes and the natural, sing-song cadence to his voice. He'd slid up next to her, plunked down two bits, and asked for a bottle of Summertime Sandy, as well as another round for "the pretty little thang next to me." She'd almost fallen out of her barstool twisting around to make sure there wasn't some other mare he could be talking about, and when she was 100% sure there wasn't, she'd nearly fainted from excitement. They'd struck up a conversation, during which she'd discovered his name was Derek, he was from Manehattan and here on a business trip of sorts, just checking out the local tavern scene when wouldntcha know it, he'd found the most beautiful mare in Equestria sitting all by her lonesome in a dive like this. She'd giggled at that, partially from what he was implying, mostly from all the martinis he kept buying her. Then he popped the question: "Wanna head back to my place?" That's when things finally started looking sketchy. She was drunk: anypony who'd had as many martinis as she’d had would be. So some strange stallion suddenly showing up to take her back to his place had to raise a few alarm bells. She was no swooning filly; she could smell a rat when it was sitting in front of her, even when it was wearing some handsome stallion's skin. "N-no thank you," she replied. "Listen, I'm flattered, I really am, but I've drunken way too much to go with anypony tonight. I think I'll just head home." Just as she slid out of her stool, his hoof clamped on her shoulder, and a feeling of dread washed over her. "Maybe I wasn't being clear," he said, his voice taking on a dark tone she would've sworn could never have been there just a few minutes before. "When I've put this much time, effort, and money into somepony, I think I've earned a little reward. Don't you?" She turned on him, eyes blazing. "You seriously think you’ve earned the right to violate me just because you bought a few drinks and chatted me up for a while!? How self-entitled can you get!?" His eyes locked on hers, a scowl deepening across his face. Obviously, that wasn't the response he’d wanted, but what the hell did he expect!? For her to just toss her hind legs open for him at the drop of a hat!? Apparently so. "We're done here," she said icily, trying to wrench free of his grip. His hoof remained firmly locked on her shoulder. "I'm afraid we're not," the stallion replied. "You see, my friends and I would be extremely disappointed if this evening didn’t end with some ass." Her heart rate picked up a few beats at that. As he spoke, every stallion at the bar stood and formed a circle around her, a solid wall of stallions that enveloped and imprisoned her more tightly than any jail cell could. She was totally sober now. No being drunk when one was surrounded by an entire friggin' gang of nasty-looking ponies. The barkeep flinched, looking like he was reaching for something under his countertop, but a quick stun spell from one of the unicorns in the group put an end to that, a blue bolt of pure energy nearly flipping the aging stallion head over hooves and leaving him semi-conscious on the floor, a few drops of his higher-quality booze trickling onto his head. She screamed then, though later in her statement to the police, she would swear she didn't. She just remembered a high-pitched sound coming from somewhere, she didn’t know where, and then a hoof smashing against her cheek while one of the stallions shouted for her to shut up. The whole bar fell silent, the ponies on the dance floor pausing and gaping. Someone, at least, had the presence of mind to pull the plug on the old-style jukebox in the corner. After that, the stallions standing around the bar all pulled out crossbows and swords and levelled them at the crowd of now-terrified ponies. A few more terrified squeaks and screams sounded, but nopony bolted, thank Celestia. It didn't take a prodigy like that Twilight girl over at the library to figure out what would've happened then. "Ladies and gentlestallions, for all who have not figured it out, this is indeed a robbery," Mr. Young and Charming said, his eyes taking on a cold quality she must have been too drunk or too distracted to notice before. "If you will please remove any valuables or belongings and hoof them to the fine gentlestallions who will be sent around, we can expedite this entire process and be out of your manes much more quickly." This is a nightmare, she thought as a couple stallions broke off from the rest of the group, working their way around the dance floor while their partners kept their weapons trained on the crowd. She shivered under the gaze of the lead stallion once he turned his attention back to her. It was funny how she could have spent the night staring into those same eyes not ten minutes ago. Now, it was all she could do to keep from looking away. “Aw, c’mon babe, don’t be like that,” the stallion said, hopping off his barstool and sliding up next to her. She shivered and broke eye contact as his shoulder brushed against hers. “Most mares would feel lucky t’be in your horseshoes right now. Big, dangerous, charming criminal like me takin’ a shine to ya…” He ran a hoof through her mane as tears started to well up in her eyes. She looked over at the crowd of terrified ponies, realizing they might as well have been on the other side of the planet for all the help they could lend her. Some of the stallions held the mares nearest to them close while the crooks made their rounds, and for a terrible moment, she thought of how badly she wanted to switch places with one of those mares. Let somepony else suffer through this, just not her. “I dunno boss,” one of the thugs guffawed. “Y’really think this one’ll last much longer than the last one?” The last one!? How many more mares had this stallion left behind him? How much company was she about to have in the line of broken mares he’d left across Equestria? Celestia above, she didn’t want to find out. A few errant tears trickled down her cheeks. She hated herself for them, showing so much weakness at a time like this. She wanted to spit in this bastard’s eye, but knew the least that would earn her would be a backhoof across the face, if not a crossbow bolt through a fetlock. “I know, I know, she’s a bit older than what we’re used to,” Mr. Young, Handsome, and Bastardly replied as the other stallions echoed the same, deep snicker. He latched a hoof around her flank and squeezed roughly, earning a choked gasp that made his eyes light up with horrible delight. “Got a bit more flab too. But hey, more cushion for the pushin’, amirite?” Around here, her memory got fuzzy. It was like a black shade being drawn over her own mind. That was okay, the police psychologist sent to interview her would say later on, when she sat in the local precinct headquarters with a mug of hot coffee in one hoof and a blanket draped over her shoulders. Memory repression was common in cases like this, he would say. In fact, it would probably be best if they left things as they were. If she didn't want to remember something, odds were they should just leave it be. The bad guys were all rounded up, after all, the only thing she could do now was help them catch whoever left those nasty stallions behind as a neat little present for the local cops. And what were they gonna do with them? Haul them back to the station so the mayor could pin a medal to their chests they obviously didn’t want? And she would agree, thus ensuring she would never remember what happened next. She would never remember the clopping noise from the corner of the bar. She would never remember the small stallion with the hard look in his eye and the mischievous smile on his lips, sitting at the bar with a half-empty glass of Apple Family hard cider he’d poured himself, bringing his hooves together over and over again in a long, slow clap. She would never remember the easy way he'd scooped up the glass and taken a drink even as one of the crooks swept up next to him and levelled a crossbow on his head from point-blank range. And most of all, she would never remember the way he let out a satisfied sigh before speaking. “Bravo,” he said. “Bravo, encore, just a true display of villainy, good sir. An absolutely perfect demonstration of pure dickheadishness. Two hooves up. 10 outta 10: would clop again.” “What was that!?” The stallion screamed, his attention thankfully deflected from Neon’s still-shivering form. “Oh, I was just wondering if you wanted to rape and/or kill a few fillies while you were at it, you sick, rancid pile of gryphon shit,” the newcomer replied, his hoof resting nonchalantly on the bar. “You might wanna watch what you say there, little guy,” the stallion holding a crossbow on the newcomer growled. “We’re the most feared outlaws in all of Equestria!” The newcomer stared down the bolt levelled on his head, making eye contact with the stallion at the trigger. “Little guy?” He murmured, though at the time, Neon could swear it sounded more like a hiss, like a cobra getting ready to strike. The newcomer glared daggers at the thug, taking a few more sips of his cider, apparently oblivious to the bolt maybe milliseconds from taking his life. “Little guy?” He murmured again, setting the mug down, repeating the word to himself over and over again, his eyes on the ground. “Alright, okay…that’s funny…” He stood up from his barstool, eyes still on the ground. The thug tightened his grip on the crossbow. “Y’wanna know what else is funny?” Then he shrugged. Or, to Neon, it looked like he shrugged while taking a quick step to the side, right out of the crossbow’s line of fire. The thug jolted back, clutching at his throat, eyes widening while he let out a choked-off gasp. The crossbow practically flew out of his hooves, and in a single deft motion, the newcomer snatched it out of the air and bought it down against the thug’s temple, slamming him against the ground. It all happened in the same amount of time most ponies took to blink. One moment, the thug was standing there with a crossbow trained on this stallion, the next, the stallion was the one with the crossbow and the thug was on the ground, clutching at his throat and making sounds like a broken valve on a scuba tank. In the stunned lull that followed, the newcomer shook his head at the thug. “And you might wanna remember that crossbows are ranged weapons, and should be used as such, not just waved around like some dumbass amateur actors in a play, big guy,” he said. “See? Now THAT’S funny!” “Frickin’ kill him!” Mr. Young and Bastardly screeched, and each of the thugs charged, apparently forgetting the newcomer now held a loaded crossbow. He raised and fired one-hoofed, the bolt sailing right through one of the charging stallions’ fetlocks and sending him crashing against the bar, howling in pain. But that was just one stallion of many. In a flash, the incredible, apparently invincible stallion whirled around, shattering the spent crossbow against a stallion’s temple like a club. But still, he was woefully outnumbered. The remaining thugs mobbed the heroic stallion, overwhelming him through sheer force of numbers and pummeling him over and over again. Mr. Young and Bastardly smiled confidently as he strode over to the pile of writhing ponies, the newcomer at the bottom at the receiving end of an endless number of blows. Finally, the thugs’ leader raised a hoof. “Okay, stop,” he said. “Spread him out.” The thugs all grinned as they paused long enough to spread the newcomer out by his hooves, each holding one of his legs down. The now beaten and bloodied stallion spat a red glob out on the floor and glared up at them from a pair of blackened, bloodshot eyes, and then he smiled. “Well, I thought it was funny.” He said. Mr. Bastardly and Young just grinned his cold, predatory grin before smashing his hoof down on the newcomer’s stallionhood, relishing the wretched, high-pitched shriek of pain the stranger let loose. “Do you have any clue who you’ve been fucking with!?” He hissed, smashing a hoof into his captive’s stomach. “Do you have any clue what I’ve done!? I’ve robbed a hundred joints like this! I’ve left behind a trail of terror a thousand miles long! To some ponies out in the boonies, I’m the Celestia-damned third coming of Nightmare Moon!” He leaned in close, still grinning ear-to-ear. “So who the hell are you to take me on?” The stallion spat again, out the corner of his mouth this time, to avoid catching the thug in the eye. He took a few deep, heaving breaths, and for a second, Neon thought he was just going to puke all over himself. Then he returned the grin and gave his reply: “The distraction. Or did you not notice the extra pony on your team?” Mr. Young, Handsome, and Very Surprised had time enough to raise his eyes before one of the stallions around him clocked him across the jaw. This pony stood up, straightening to reveal every sinuous muscle in his massive body. He made his partner look like a little weakling, and most of the other stallions in the room like insects. Mr. Young and Handsome went sprawling as the others tried to contain this strange, new pony, a pair rushing up with daggers clenched in their hooves. It was like trying to contain lightning. The newcomer twisted out of their paths, hooking his forehooves in the crooks of their legs and smashing their skulls together. As they slumped to the floor, the last thug standing rushed up behind the newcomer and wrapped his hooves around his neck, grabbing him in a chokehold that would have spelt certain doom for any other pony. Instead, this pony slammed his elbows back into his assailant’s stomach, throwing himself against the bar and grabbing one of the thug’s hind legs in between his own before rolling over. The maneuver ended with him lying on top of the thug, a hind leg firmly in his grip, his forelegs wrapped around it. Still tensed against the hold, the stranger wrenched back until a sickening crack filled the room. “MY LEG!” The thug howled, releasing the chokehold in a panicked attempt to claw at his opponent. “YOU BROKE MY LEG!” The pony’s only response was to twist around with an uppercut against his jaw, followed by a skull-bash that knocked the thug out instantly. Breathing heavily, he stood on his own, firm hooves. And that was it. In less than five minutes, these two ponies had reduced half a dozen heavily armed, extremely dangerous stallions into a pile of moaning injuries and barely-conscious groans. Neon Glow stood on her own, shaking hooves, watching her rescuers in awe. Most of the other ponies had already fled, dashing out the back entrance the moment the thugs all turned their attention on the newcomers. She hadn’t even noticed, only watching the pair as the larger stallion helped his friend back to his hooves. “Once again,” the smaller stallion said. “Didja want to take a little longer with the rescue there!?” The larger only glared as he helped him up. “That’s just whatcha get for threatening Mr. Sprinkles.” The smaller stallion’s jaw dropped. “YOU’RE STILL PISSED BECAUSE…” Suddenly, Mr. Young and Handsome darted to his hooves, rolling up and screaming angrily. Before Neon could shout a warning, he reached into a pocket and whipped out a small glass vial, which he flung at the larger of the pair. “SWITCH!” The smaller stallion cried, leaping into the path of the object. The vial shattered against his skull with a sickening crash, spraying a greenish liquid over his face. “BAIT!” The larger stallion screamed, his partner dropping out of the air, yelling and rubbing at his eyes. He rushed to his friend’s side, patting his back as he continued furtively running his hooves over the potion-doused area. Neon herself was finally stirred into action, rushing for a glass of water from behind the bar. “Use this!” She cried, offering it up to the larger stallion. “Thanks!” He replied, grabbing the glass and pouring it over the affected area. “C’mon, Bait, tell me you’re fine!” “I-I’m okay!” The smaller stallion exclaimed, a hoof pressed into the affected eye. “I-it stings like hell, but I think I’m fine!” “Aw, whatta gyp!” Mr. Young and Handsome said, snorting with frustration. “That potion was guaranteed to kill anypony it touched in five seconds flat! Stupid zebra bitch ripped me off!” The larger stallion turned on him, his muzzle contorting into one of the most terrifying looks Neon had ever seen on anypony’s face. For a second, she could swear she saw fangs growing out where his flat, pony teeth should have been, his eyes burning with green fire. Just for a second though, then he turned to her, a calm, cold look about him. “Watch him,” he ordered. “I-I will,” she said timidly. Nodding, he turned on Mr. Young and Handsome, who instantly looked more like Mr. Young and Timid. His ears folded back and he smiled nervously, backing away as the massive stallion advanced: a wall of muscle gliding over the tavern floor. “H-hey man, uh…no harm, no foul?” Without a word, the stallion reached under the bar, pulled out a cheap bottle of Marelot, yanked the cork out with his teeth, and upended it over the thug’s head. “H-hey!” Mr. Young and Handsome burbled. “What the hell is this!?” “Sorry,” the big stallion said as he tossed the bottle aside. “I figured you’d want something to make sure those cuts don’t get all infected.” The thug arched an eyebrow, looking himself over for some injury he must have missed. “What cuts?” Again without a word, the big stallion whirled on one hoof and delivered a devastating buck to the thug’s chest, sending him flying headfirst through one of the plate-glass windows built into the tavern’s façade, as was practically standard for any tavern where fights tended to break out. Glass shattered as Mr. Young and Not-So-Handsome-Anymore went sailing outside and landed with a deep thud, face scraping through the dirt. “Those cuts,” the big stallion replied. By now, Neon just looked on, eyes wide. It was like watching one of those stupid, action-packed plays stallions were always trying to drag their marefriends to, complete with the one-liners and over-the-top action! She didn’t even notice the amount of pressure she was putting on the smaller stallion’s face until he winced. “Oh, sorry!” She gasped, easing up. “Is that better?” “Yeah,” the smaller stallion smiled at her, and looking at him, she realized just how much smaller he was. Even she had a few inches on him, and she was short by mare’s standards! Still, that didn’t detract from this inherent handsomeness he held, this attractiveness that seemed to come from within him. It was like some huge geyser of self-confidence like she had seen in so many other stallions, most of them irredeemable pricks. But not this one. No, definitely not this one. A mare could absolutely fall in love with this one, she thought. His partner too, probably, but this one especially. He kept that winning smile on his face and said, “Don’t worry about it; I’ve been worked over by guys way tougher than these losers.” “Sounds exciting.” “It’s not. I mean, it’s not nearly as glorious as I’m sure you think it is, but it’s a life.” She smiled at him, turning back to the bar to refill the glass. She had to lean over the bar to reach the spigot, meaning she had to keep her back turned as she collected the water. “I want you to know,” she said as the glass slowly filled. “What you did back there was very brave.” “Aww hell, I just did what anyone with the training and know-how would’ve done,” he replied. “No, they wouldn’t: you know how some ponies are.” “Well, good thing we aren’t just some ponies, eh?” She giggled, feeling more heat rise to her face. It was a pleasant feeling, though, much better than the alcohol-induced tipsiness she’d felt with the stallion now lying in the dirt outside. “And thank Celestia for that!” “I guess so!” “I didn’t catch your name, by the way,” she finished, finally looking up from the sink. “See, I thought I heard your partner call you ‘Bait,’ but I figured that was just…” She looked up at him, and instantly the smile dropped off her face. The glass fell from her hooves, shattering on the hardwood floor and spraying broken glass and water everywhere, sending shards into every corner where they hadn’t already been. Her knees went weak, and for a terrible moment, she thought she would faint. “Nuh-no,” she whimpered. “Not again. Not twice in one night.” “What’s wrong?” The smaller stallion asked. His hoof had dropped from his face, revealing what had been unmasked by the potion. The half of his face that had been touched was black and smooth, glossy in the flickering candlelight. She might have mistaken it for a bad burn if it hadn’t been for the beady little eye contrasting with its larger twin, along with the distinctive, raggedy black ear that stood up off of the black half of his scalp. “Are you alright?” He asked, taking a few steps towards her, reaching out with his hoof. She shook her head, taking a few steps back and dodging the hoof as if it were poison. “Cha-cha-cha…” she stammered, unable to finish the word in her utter shock. His eyes darting wide, the smaller “stallion” reached at his face, running his hoof over the skin. His features dropped. “Oh no…” he mumbled. “Chayy…Change…” “M-Miss, this isn’t what it looks like!” He gasped, reaching for her again. She swatted his hoof away, still trying to finish forming the word. “What’s going…on…” the larger stallion had turned, and his eyes widened at the sight of the half-formed creature standing there. At first, she thought he might run and get help, having learned what his partner truly was. Then, her hopes sank when his expression calmed back into an empty neutral. “Oh darn, cat’s outta the bag, huh?” “Yeah,” the smaller creature said with a sheepish shrug, holding his hoof over his face again. With a nod, the larger stallion disappeared in a flash of green fire, and in his place stood a massive changeling with a scar over one eye. The smaller stallion followed suit, shifting right in front of her into a smaller changeling with a chipped fang and one eye that still twitched with the effects of the poison. That finally freed her tongue, as if the final illusion being dispelled broke whatever it was holding her voice back. “CHANGELIN…” she managed to get out before a slender, but powerful, black hoof clamped over her mouth. She wanted more than anything to scream, even more fear welling up within her, overwhelming all other thoughts and instincts. At least the criminal gang they’d just dispatched might have only felt her up a little before releasing her. With these two, this evening could only end one of two ways: either they would drag her back to their Celestia-forsaken hive for the rest of their terrible species to feed on, or they would just suck her dry there and be done with it. Fell for it again, you idiot, they may not be stallions this time, but they still tricked you like a little filly,she thought, a couple more tears dribbling down her cheeks as the smaller changeling pressed her up against the bar, exerting his superior strength to keep her pinned. “Okay, listen to me carefully,” he said in that hissing, multi-layered changeling voice. She’d never heard it before, but had heard it described by survivors of the Wedding Invasion in newspaper interviews. It was just as horrible as she’d imagined it. “This is what’s gonna happen…” Oh Celestia… she thought, mentally running through a list of ponies she most wanted to see one last time. Ironically enough, the stallion lying in the mud outside was on that list, if only to see what he looked like all beaten and bruised with dirt rubbed into his wounds. She thought that might be something worth seeing. “You’re gonna go to sleep, and when you wake up, you won’t remember anything from the moment you first saw me,” he hissed. “You’ll just wake up, and move on with your life, that’s all. Okay?” It had to be a trick, it just had to be, but before she could even begin to struggle, he touched that ugly, crooked spire of a horn to her forehead and inky, black darkness began to creep in along the edges of her vision. Her vision wavered as he eased her to the ground, slowly laying her out on the hardwood floor. “Just move on,” he whispered. “Just move on.” A part of her absolutely figured she would wake up in a chrysalis, secured to his back, or perhaps to the big one’s back. Wait, the big what? What was she thinking about? Secured to…secured…safe…she was safe. Neon took one last look up in her failing vision, and was shocked to see one of those changeling creatures there, standing over her. The shock didn’t last long though, quickly fading into an eerie calm, though some voice in the back of her head screamed for her to run. “Just move on,” the creature whispered gently, and for some reason, she found she liked the way he talked. In fact, something about the way he moved and carried himself, the way he gently laid her out on the floor and backed away, was kinda cute, though she had no idea how she even knew the big bug was a “he” in the first place. There was something so masculine about him, so confident that… …a mare could fall in love… she trailed off before sleep overtook her. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bait watched the tavern from the darkness of the rooftops, his eyes staring passively as a small army of cops and paramedics filed in through the front door, carrying out stretcher after stretcher of beaten and bloody ponies, all cuffed to their cots with the exception of the bartender, who was still barely conscious and covered in his own booze. He stared straight down, only blinking after watching the mare get led out, a blanket over her shoulders and a pair of cops at her sides, offering reassurances as they led her to one of the wagons. “You alright?” His partner asked, watching him from the darkness even deeper on the rooftop. Shrugging, Bait shifted again, disappearing in a flash of green fire to become a young colt with a shock of red mane and a single, smaller eye. He looked his reflection over in a puddle of air-conditioner coolant pooling in one corner of the roof. “Almost,” he replied. “Just another couple hours and I’m sure I’ll be able to transform completely again.” “Good, good,” Switch nodded. “But you know that’s not what I meant.” The smaller changeling shifted right back into his normal form, still staring at his reflection. What’s so bad about this? He wondered. What do they see that’s so awful? He sighed, fanned his wings, and said, “Let’s get going. The Queen’s expecting us back in the Badlands by daybreak.” Sighing, the larger changeling nodded and the pair took off, just a couple of dark, rushing shapes, invisible in the black night. Bait continued moping along for a while, even as the small town gave way to the rushing leaves of the Everfree forest. After a few hours of watching pink trees pass by under his hooves, the layer of chitin where his eyebrows would be (if he had them) creased. “Huh,” he mumbled. “What’s up?” “I figured out why that potion had that effect on me: it did kill the pony it touched. That pony was just pretend, is all. By ruining the disguise, it forced me to dispel it from existence.” “Huh, I’ll be damned. I guess we’re lucky it hit you, and not some unlucky pony bastard, eh?” “Yeah, I guess,” Bait sighed. They didn’t talk much after that.