//------------------------------//
// Hold Up 
// Story: (A)mortal 
// by RagingPonyRider 
//------------------------------//

	“Come on, ya lightweight! Pour it!”
 
“I think you have had enough.”
 
“Buffalo dung! My liver’s had worse!”
 
The stallion looked at the bottle’s label. He really wanted to smash it over the drunkard’s head. Not like a fractured skull would be what killed him at this rate. “Pour it yourself.”
 
“You rassafraggin’ varmint!” He failed to grab the bottle, and after a few grumbles, he fell off his chair.
 
“Sooo, I’m guessing you won?” Sterling asked, smirking. “How’s it?”
 
“A waste of time, unfortunately.” Trotter pocketed the money and poured the remaining drink back into the bottle. “According to my x-rays, I have no liver to damage. His challenge was pointless.”
 
Sterling frowned before shaking her head and cleared the table.
 
The bartender nodded before returning to his tankards. He had been looking his way ever since the stallion entered, never having seen such a flamboyantly-dressed pony. Still, he had bits for that huge vodka bottle, so he couldn’t complain.
 
“Apologies, Mister Bartender, but may I loiter here for a couple more hours? Then I will be out of your mane for good.”
 
He nodded once more.
 
“Thank you.”
 
“Don’t worry, this place doesn’t get much traffic during the day,” Sterling said. “But seriously, you have a disguise and all, so you can’t leave yet?”
 
“The guards are still on patrol. When the sun sets, that is the best time to leave.”
 
“Why?”
 
“There is yet to be a Twilight Guard.”
 
Sterling didn’t know whether to react with awe or facehoof at the pun. “You got a point there.”
 
“I want to see if he will show up again.”
 
“Who?”
 
“The man. He might still be around here.”
 
She lost him again. What was a “man” supposed to be? “Well, whatever it is you’re looking for, I hope you find it.”
 
“That might not be the best solution.”
 
The stallion pulled the snoring drunkard up and laid him on another chair. He watched a pool a saliva form on the table and wondered how much he drank to turn it yellow.
 
“A good show, Trotter, good show.”
 
A serpentine creature formed on the chair next to him. “So you’re the one everypony’s talking about. I’ve heard of love at first sight, but with you, it’s the complete opposite for me.”
 
“I do not suppose introductions are in order, then.” The stallion saw Sterling fidget. “I suppose spirits of chaos do not visit bars often.”
 
“Not unless I have to.” Discord magicked two shot glasses and poured chocolate milk out of his nose.
 
“Do not bother. I cannot taste, and my non-existent stomach is insatiable.”
 
“Oh pshaw, Trotter. It’s all about the atmosphere, you know that!”
 
The pair clinked their glass and drank, not caring that two pairs of eyes were staring at them.
 
“Celestia wants me back? Tell her to fetch me herself.”
 
“Sorry, but with the rumours of a traitor-slash-murderer in the city, the last thing she needs to confirm it is with her getting into it.”
 
“And she thought getting the residential spirit of chaos would be a good idea?”
 
“Actually, I volunteered. If ol’ Sunbutt’s telling the truth, you can’t die.”

“And you think you can kill me? If so, you are free to try.”

“And nothing fazes you as well, apparently. Besides, killing’s not really my thing, Trotter. You stop their heart, break their neck, and that’s it. That’s not my style, Trotter. Too static.”
 
“If you are not trying to kill me, I have no business with you.”
 
“But I do.” Discord sneezed into a napkin, but instead of phlegm, a photo was printed into the paper. “This thing, whatever it is, got something funky about him, and I want to know everything. This is off the record, just between us abominations.”
 
“Do not compare me to you.”

“Aw, don’t be bashful. I know it doesn’t seem easy, but we’ve got to work together, you know?”
 
“The last time you worked with someone, you were betrayed and branded traitor.”
 
“Ugh don’t talk about him. And you don’t seem the violent type, just… an inquisitive soul.”
 
"Are you describing me or how the usual individual perceives me?”
 
“We’re getting off the topic.” Discord regurgitated his chocolate milk and threw it behind him, causing it to explode when it hit the wall. “This thing is nothing but trouble, for me, you, and Celestia. And while I would like nothing more than to investigate this thing, I can’t find it without it showing itself first.”
 
“So do not bother. However, I will continue my search for him. It knows what I need to know, why I… feel like I do.”
 
"Hm?”
 
“Do you wake up every morning, wondering why you have yet to die?”
 
“Eh, a couple times. Then I got bored of it. You feel that way too?”
 
“All the time. For over two years. Maybe even beyond that.”
 
Discord closed his once open mouth and slumped in his chair.
 
The silence remained, and Discord looked anywhere but Trotter’s eyes. They begged, dared him to continue the conversation.
 
“If you live up to your namesake, you would have known death twice or thrice.”
 
“Psh. I’m the spirit of chaos, not the spirit of impossibility.”
 
“Ah, but because it is an impossibility, is it not chaotic?”
 
When Discord scowled, the stallion leaned in.
 
“Chaos, change, discord, these things do not matter to me. The entire planet could collapse onto itself and it would not make a difference.”
 
"You don’t care what happens to anything? That’s pretty pessimistic.”
 
“Not at all. I am saying that change is a falsity entirely.”
 
Discord’s jaw fell and rolled off the table. He slapped himself back into the world and picked up his chin.
 
“I see you do not understand.”
 
“I understand perfectly well, and it’s horseapples!” Discord scoffed. “Everything changes. There is nothing in this universe that retains its shape forever. We grow old, we lose fur, our opinions shift, and nothing you or this man does can change that.”
 
“And yet, after thousands of years of shapeshifting and other events, you still remain as the entity Discord.”
 
Discord didn’t know how to respond to that.
 
“Let us look at it another way then.” The stallion spread his hooves out. “Why do you think everything is different and individual? Have you ever thought that everything, even time, is a part of a single thing? Then no matter what you change, everything will still be the same.”
 
If it weren’t for his eyes, everypony would have thought Discord was replaced with a wax replica.
 
“I have your attention now?” A tiny smile broke out from Trotter. “I will give an example. A train and a pony are racing. Assume the pony has a head start. You with me so far?
 
“The race begins. In one second, the train will move a much longer distance than the pony will, yes, but the pony will nevertheless gain some distance still. In short, the pony remains ahead.
 
“In another second, the train will close the gap further, but the pony keeps moving. Therefore, it can be assumed that as long as the pony keeps moving, there will always be a minute distance that keeps the train from overtaking the pony.”

Discord raised a talon, and a train set appeared on the table. He placed a figurine ahead of the train and pushed a button. The slower pony ran around the track, but eventually the faster train overtook.
 
“Hmm…”

“Discord?”

The stallion fought the urge to burst laughing. Who knew spirits could be sent into a reverie so easily?

“Are you perhaps having, what they say, an existential crisis?”

Discord magicked the train set away.

“I was wrong about you, Trotter.” He frowned. “Playing your little mind games all the time. You’re going to become a big problem later if I leave you.” 

He snapped his fingers but nothing happened. He tried several more times, but still nothing.

“What the-huh?”

“Thank you for the drink. If we meet again, I would like to talk with you again. It has been... enjoyable.”

The stallion exited, taking his remaining whisky.

“Hey, wait!” He tried teleporting to no avail. “What in the world-”

A short but shrill gasp escaped from Sterling, leaving Discord with enough time to look up.
 





 
It was about time for the sun to set, but he could still see the blinding ball. Either Celestia had extended daytime to prolong the search or his sense of time had worsened.
 
Regardless, he had succeeded in slipping past guards before. The complication would be at the city border.
 
As for Discord, he would likely return to the princesses any minute. The stallion considered himself lucky. If Discord had used his magic on him, there would be nothing to stop him from capturing him.
 
Trotter silently cursed. Streams of yellow tape and a crowd blocked the final intersection before the city entrance.

“Move it! What’s going on?”
 
"Keep back, miss! There’s a robbery going on!”
 
“Some crazy griffon’s in the bank with a crossbow!”
 
“Why hasn’t anypony gone in there? You’re the city guards, aren’t you?!”
 
“Let me in there! My sister’s in there!”
 
“Hey, watch it, pal!”
 
“Wait, hold it, get back!”
 
“What do you think you’re doing?”
 
“My word, I’ve never seen such— Hey, wasn’t that the outfit you threw out last Saturday, Monique?”
 





 
Everypony was huddled into corners trembled. The griffon spun on spot, pointing his weapon at whoever so much as twitched.
 
“How fuckin’ long does it take, you shit!” He shot into the air.
 
“It’s su-supposed to be opened by one of th-the managers!” the clerk sobbed. Her horn flickered.
 
“You stop working, you stop breathing. Got it?!” He pressed the crossbow into her rump, and her horn glowed brighter than ever.
 
“Anypony else work here? Because I swear to your princesses that I’m going to shoot one pony for every minute she spends. You might as well help her out, and maybe you won’t get shot dead!”
 
Nopony stepped up. They looked away, whispering to themselves.
 
"Some nation,” he scoffed. “Won’t even help a pretty mare like her— Hey!”
 
The doors opened. A pony dressed in a dirty white coat and hat walked over to the counter.
 
The griffon pointed his crossbow at him. He froze. “The fuck do you think you’re doing, buddy?”
 
“Taking out a loan.”
 
“Real funny. Now unless you got a horn, get into a corner.”
 
“I’m taking out the loan so I can give you the money.” He reached the counter.
 
“Hey, you deaf?!” the griffon screamed. He swung down, knocking the pony’s hat off. “You. Corner. NOW!”
 
The stallion faltered but then straightened himself.
 
Some ponies gasped at who it was. The griffon’s mask covered all except his eyes, but they gave no sign he recognized him.
 
“Now unless you want to die, get over there.”
 
“But that’s the thing, mister. I want to die, but I just can’t, for some reason.” He smiled. “If you think you can, you’re welcome to try.”

The griffon struck him again, this time knocking him down. But in a few seconds, he was back up.
 
He pulled out a bottle inside his coat. “Well damn, it’s still intact.”
 
“Wine? You think you’re getting a drink anytime—”
 
“This isn’t wine, it’s just watered-down whisky. Want a drink?”
 
He slapped the bottle out of his hooves. Instead of shattering, it bounced and rolled into a table.
 
“So you know this brand?” The stallion smiled. “Yes sir, a whole inch of enchanted glass, this baby’s unbreakable.” He hit the counter a couple times. “But honestly, what are you trying to gain from this?”
 
“That’s no secret, is it?”
 
“If you wanted money, there’s a very popular wishing well in Canterlot. It’s how I bought this.”
 
The bolt’s tip dug into his ear. “Listen. I like jokes, but I tried fishing for gold, and it’s too little, too late.”
 
“Please, you’re scaring the ponies.”
 
“What do I care about those sheep!”
 
“The last thing you want is a “sheep” to be terrified. Whether they’re animals or ponies, no one works productively with poor morale. At least, not like this.”
 
“SHUT. UP!”
 
“If you’re serious about this, shoot me. You don’t come off as a liar.”
 
The griffon’s eyes narrowed when Trotter adjusted the crossbow so that the tip touched his forehead.
 
“Pull the trigger, and you’ll let everyone here know you’re dead serious.”
 
“SHUT UP!” He pressed it in deeper. “You think I’m afraid? I’ve killed before, ponies, changelings, and even my own! All for your fucking Crown! And it wasn’t because I was fucking afraid of your princess!”
 
“And nopony gives a damn. Tough.”
 
A click. Ponies looked away. The griffon trembled. A clack of wood.
 
Trotter picked up the bolt. “‘Made in Dragza. Anti-magic iron. For hunting only’. At least you’re properly representing. Oh don’t look so shocked, I told you I won’t die easily.”
 
“Jormun’s teeth. What kind of magic’s this?!”

“It’s not magic. Or at least, the magic you know.” He passed him the bolt. “So you ARE serious about this. Good.”
 
“He-Hey,” an earth pony spoke up. “That’s a fake, isn’t it! That’s fake!” He stood up.
 
“Excuse me, let me borrow this.”
 
“What, you gonna shoot me? Go ahead, and I’ll take off your—”
 
A click. A shriek.
 
“What- what the- I said—”
 
“Shut it and get back to your corner before I shoot her other leg.”
 
The earth pony did as he was told, hugging his sobbing mother.
 
“Mister Griffon, you’ve worked as a soldier, am I correct? Killing insurgents, spies, and such?”
 
The griffon didn’t look at him. Trotter lightly slapped his cheeks and returned the crossbow.
 
“Focus, sir. You’re in the middle of a heist. You–” he pointed at the clerk who jumped at being addressed “–keep working. Like he said, you stop working, you stop breathing. Anyways, you’ve dealt with these threats before, I assume?”
 
He slowly nodded. He shifted away from him. “Yeah. Yeah…”
 
“And for how long?”
 
The griffon just now realized the crossbow was back in his talons. Reflex took over.
 
“Nice, if a bit delayed. At least half a decade?” He chuckled. “Then again, I never went to the army, so I wouldn’t know.”
 
“What in the Underworld are you trying to pull?!”
 
“I’m just trying to help you.”
 
“By killing a hostage?!”
 
“Killing?” He frowned. “No, sir. I don’t kill. Hurt, however?” He smiled. “When it’s appropriate.”
 
“Don’t lie to me.” The griffon pointed the crossbow again, but lowered it. “Don’t you lie to me. You’re a killer, I know it.”
 
The griffon twitched when the stallion gave the deepest frown he had ever seen.
 
“In a past life. When I wasn’t what I am now. I still don’t fully understand its gravity. But I know I don’t gain satisfaction from killing. I don’t think anyone does.”
 
The griffon softened, but tensed back up and looked at the still-quivering ponies. “Clerk! You done yet! Can’t you magic it open?!”
 
“I can’t!” she cried. “Even an alicorn can’t force their magic through it without knowing the right frequency! And even then...”
 
“Pathetic,” he hissed. “What are you? What do want out of this?”
 
“I don’t really know what I am, but the townspeople named me Trotter.”
 
Now the griffon realized.
 
“You attacked one of the royalty?”
 
“Yeah. To show how serious I am about dying. Can you imagine going for two years, not sleeping, feeling, smelling, or tasting anything?”
 
The griffon shuddered.
 
“As for why… honestly, it’s on a whim. To pass the time. I don’t need the money.”
 
When the griffon scoffed, Trotter laughed. “I bet that’s the first time anyone’s ever heard that. We live in completely different worlds.”
 
“Money’s everything in this world. It’s the reason why these uppity twits stay where they are, living their lives like nothing but the color of their damned shoes are wrong while the bottom-feeders eat each other like wild beasts!”
 
The stallion’s smile widened but dropped.
 
“What? What is it?”
 
“I’m sorry, I’m just confused.” He shrugged. “At first, I thought you were some shell-shocked veteran, doing this out of insanity or envy. Then I thought you were doing this solely for the money.”
 
The griffon pointed his crossbow again. “What’s it to you? Some kind of fucking mind game?!”
 
“The rage of a suicide bomber combined with the discipline of a soldier. What element merges them?”
 
“YOU SHUT UP! WHAT DO YOU KNOW— Hrk!”
 
The griffon covered where his mouth should be with a talon.
 
“So that’s why. Now it makes sense.”
 
The griffon rubbed his talon on his wing. “Yes! Pneumoconiosis, from working in Diamond Dog mines! Happy now?!”
 
It was the stallion’s turn to be silenced as the griffon kept retching.
 
“I need money! I need it for an operation! But the only job I can get is in the mines! Weather work? Sky traffic? Plain physical labour? No!”
 
The entire building felt like it had dropped several degrees. Even the cacophony outside stopped, preferring to turn its collective ear as far as it could.
 
Trotter kept his frown.
 
“That’s all I wanted to hear. Miss Clerk, you’ve been on that door for at least twenty minutes. If you can’t—”
 
A creak escaped from the safe.
 
"Finally!” the griffon screamed.
 
“B-But that wasn’t me!” the clerk whimpered. “It’s the safety! It automatically unlocks itself if somepony’s in there!”
 
“Did a unicorn teleport in there?”
 
“The entire safe’s supposed to be enchanted! Nothing can get in or out once it’s locked!”
 
Trotter closed his agape mouth. “Wait here.”
 
He pushed the clerk aside. His frown turned progressively deeper until it flipped upside-down.
 
“Well sir, looks like we’ve hit both our jackpots.”