When faced with the business end of any weapon, Ace’s mind, rather than going blank in fear like many would, instead began to consider possibilities. Possibilities such as; how much damage such a weapon could inflict on his unarmoured body, how quickly could his opponent swing such a weapon and, his personal favourite, just how to prevent such a weapon swinging his way.
However, staring down at the large chunk of sharpened metal held by the huge, but eerily calm, minotaur, Ace had to admit, the possibilities on this one did not look good.
“You’re thinking of going for the door aren’t you? Maybe shouting for the guards?” The minotaur said with uncanny accuracy, “Let me assure you that it would be futile. I am very good with these axes and, if you were to try and run, you would find your escape…cut sharp.”
If there was one thing that Ace knew from his experiences being threatened by large people with an unnervingly professional attitude, it was that attempts to lighten the mood, such as bad puns, were never a good sign. Deciding to hold his tongue against the minotaur’s awful attempt at comedy, the satyr obligingly took a seat. When he had been arrested the guard’s had confiscated all of his gear, including his cards and lockpicks. They had been disturbingly thorough.
Eyeing the minotaur’s weapon, Ace gulped. “I suppose you want to ‘axe’ me a question.”
A cold gaze froze the thief to the core as the giant calmly reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a notepad and quill, quickly jotting something down before putting them back.
“Heh, that’s a good one.” He chuckled, “I’ll have to remember that for later. Now then, maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Grante, I’m employed by the individual whose operation you have been interfering with.”
“Grante? Really?”
“Not what you were expecting? I admit, it’s not my birth name. My father, a very traditionalist minotaur, wanted me to be called Skullcrusher Bloodfist.” He grimaced, “However, like many minotaur’s who leave their tribe, I decided to take a new name.”
“Yeah…but ‘Grante’?”
“It’s old Griffon. I’ve always found Griffon culture fascinating. Once they were a noble and honourable people, at least before Celestia decided to try her hoof at international diplomacy.” He shook his head sadly, “But we are not here to discuss dead cultures. My employer is growing irate with you. At first, you were amusing, but your hilarity has quickly waned. If you were anyone else, no doubt we could come to some sort or arrangement that would benefit both parties. But I’m afraid that you cannot be trusted.”
Ace rose indignantly from his chair, “Hey! Who says I can’t be trusted?”
“We are familiar with your kind.” Grante said with a snort, “And we are not about to let you go free.”
“Do you even know what your ‘employer’ is doing? The damage that the Black Brew can do?” Ace exclaimed, mind searching for a way out even as he spoke.
“Of course, but it is a necessary evil.” The enforcer sighed, “I truly wish there was a better way, but none present itself. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” With that, the minotaur rose to his full height, easily eclipsing Ace. “I would have greatly enjoyed talking more with you.”
“Wish I could say the same.” Grante raised an eyebrow, and an axe, at that, “But you take way too long to say anything. By the time you make a point I’d probably be asleep.”
The minotaur, rather than shouting in anger or something similar like Ace expected, merely shrugged. “A fair point.” He noted, before swinging his weapon towards the satyr.
As the weapon began its descent, Ace dropped backwards into his chair and kicked off the table, sending himself tumbling backwards. The axe, which would have split his head in two, instead went clean between his legs and slammed deep into the table. Smoothly, the thief rolled backwards and back to his hooves.
“Ta da!”
With a yank, Grante removed his axe from the table, leaving a jagged scar behind in the wood. He sighed, “Impressive. But you merely delay the inevitable.” With a single sweep, he knocked the table aside and stepped forward.
“Oh crap.”
“You know, the more you try and pick that lock, the more I want to snap your neck and make a shank out of your spinal column.”
“Flatterer.”
A sigh, “Seriously though Gale, could you give it a rest? The scratching is giving me a headache.”
Gale Force looked up from her work. For the last two hours she had been trying to pick the lock of her cell door with one of her wing feathers. It was slow going to say the least. Well, technically speaking, it was no going. The feather just didn’t have the necessary strength to move the tumblers, not to mention trying to manipulate it with her mouth tickled. Spitting out her tool, Gale looked over to her cellmate. Despite the occasional threats of painful death, the short unicorn had proven to be a decent cellmate, even if she did insist on being called Stab Wound. Who named their foal Stab Wound? What sort of parent looked into a foal’s adorable eyes and thought ‘Stab Wound. Yup, that’s the perfect name.’
“Stabby-“
“Don’t call me that.”
“…Stabby. You need to lighten up. Get a more positive outlook on life. Sure, I could sit here like you, be all grumpy and wait until they let me out. Or! I could get through this lock and make a name for myself as someone who can break out of prison with just my wing feathers.”
“Or I could stab you in the throat and leave you to bleed out whilst I get some sleep.”
Gale stuck here tongue out at the unicorn, “Party pooper.”
She was about to go back to work when the wall behind her exploded. Immediately throwing herself to the ground, Gale squeezed her eyes shut as dust filled the air. A thud and a groan came from next to her as something landed heavily on the ground. Flapping her wings to clear the air, Gale Force hesitantly opened her eyes, thankful when no stinging particles of dust invaded her green orbs. Her shocked mind attempted to comprehend what had just happened. The first thing she saw was the figure lying on the ground next to her, moaning in pain as it clutched at its chest. Of the back wall of the cell, very little remained, save for a few bricks that tenaciously hung onto their mortar. On the bed, which had miraculously remained upright, a dust covered head looked round.
“The fuck was that?” Stab Wound asked, for once sounding more confused than angry.
Gale looked down at the figure next to her, which was slowly rising, then back to her cellmate. “I think…I think a skinny minotaur just flew through the back wall of our cell.”
Stab Wound mulled this over for a moment, “Huh. Okay.”
“Just like to point out,” The ‘skinny minotaur’ said in a pained tone as he rose to his full height, “I’m a satyr, not a minotaur. And I didn’t fly, I was thrown.”
Thoughts still reeling, Gale couldn’t help but ask, “Thrown? By what?”
“Ah, that would be me.” From beyond the ruined wall, a bass voice rumbled, threatening the stability of the wall’s remaining bricks.
“My cue.” The satyr said, quickly leaning forward and plucking a feather from the shocked Gale Force, “I hope you don’t mind, need to borrow this for a minute.” He spun around and began to fiddle with the cell’s lock, muttering furiously to himself.
Gale knew that it was pointless. She had been trying herself for hours after all. Rather than watch the poor fellow struggle in vain with the lock, she instead chose to observe what monster had decided to kill the satyr. As the dust cleared, the largest minotaur that Gale had ever seen stepped forth, ducking just to get into the cell. In each hand was an axe that was almost as big as her. Some lingering survival instinct made her step out of his way as, in two steps, he strode across the cell. Futily, she watched as one of the wicked hatchets was raised over the satyr’s head, who was still absorbed with trying to pick the lock.
In the next second, several things happened at once. The axe began its fatal descent, Gale let out a wordless shout to try and warn the minotaur’s victim, Stab Wound pointedly decided to stay out of it.
And the cell door swung open.
Moving with surprising speed, the satyr stepped smoothly through the now open door, the axe splitting the hairs of his tail. Instantly, as soon as his right-hand weapon had slammed into the floor, the minotaur swung with his remaining axe, attempting to catch his prey before the satyr escaped. Rather than getting tangled in the satyr’s ribcage, the swinging blade was caught by the cell door that had been slammed shut behind the escaping victim.
“Ha! Can’t catch Ace!” The satyr crowed as the door slammed shut, automatically locking with the minotaur’s axe caught inside.
“You’re referring to yourself in third person now?” The giant asked as he tugged at the trapped axe.
“No! I mean,” The satyr looked down, “Shut up!” His point apparently made, he turned and ran off, leaving his pursuer behind.
As the shock slowly wore off, Gale came to the uncomfortable realisation that she was now trapped in a cell in a giant, undoubtedly angry and heavily armed minotaur. As she took a step away from him, the minotaur let his weapons clatter to the ground before seizing the door in both hands. Letting out a roar, the giant’s muscles heaved and, one screech of protesting metal later, the door was ripped clean off its hinges. Not even slightly out of breath, he reached down and retrieved his weapons. Turning to face the two shocked females, he nodded once.
“Ladies. My apologies for the intrusion.”
And then he was gone, striding off after his quarry. Silently, Gale Force and Stab Wound turned to face each other.
“Tell me you saw that shit?”
Gale gulped and nodded, “Yeah. That happened.”
“Good. ‘Cus I took some really strong Crystal earlier and was worried that it might have been a bad batch.” She looked over at the gaping hole in the wall and then at the remains of the door, “Well, looks like I won’t be waiting out my sentence after all. You coming?” She began to walk through the hole.
Gale looked at the inviting hole and considered her options. On one hoof she had almost certain freedom, a decent travelling companion who probably wouldn’t stab her and a good chance of not dying. On the other was an axe-wielding minotaur, a satyr and, from the sound of it, the entire Guard mobilising. In any other circumstance, the choice would be obvious.
But then again, he had managed to open the door in a few seconds with just a feather. That was seriously impressive.
“You know? You go ahead. I’m going to see what that was all about.”
Stab stared at her, “Are you serious? You’ll die!”
“I hope not. But he’s still got my feather. The way I see it, that guy owes me one.”
“You’re nuts.” Stab shook her head. “Best of luck with that, I’m off. If you somehow survive, look me up and tell me how it went.”
With a smile and a nod, Gale saw off her new friend before stepping gingerly over the ruined cell door. Behind her, the clattering and shouting of Guards. In front of her, the heavy steps of the minotaur and, somewhere beyond that, the frantic running of the satyr. Grinning, the Pegasus galloped forwards towards her destiny.
And, she hoped, not her brutal death.