Fight Club

by xTSGx

Midnight vs. Echo

 
Midnight shook her head. Maybe the warehouse would finally stop spinning around. She looked around to see dozens of boxes piled around her. Sprockets and gears had spilled out of many of them and onto the floor. Above, the metal shelf was bent out of shape from the impact. Midnight winced as she tossed several of the gears off of herself and sat up, “Ouch,” she rubbed her purple mane.
 
Echo popped her head out of a pile of sprockets several feet away, “Wow. Wasn't expecting that. Guess I should have watched my aim.”
 
“Ya think? What's wrong with you?!” This was insane. She wasn't here to fight. She hadn't prepped or stretched or anything! There hadn't even been a contract signed.
 
The lean bat pony slipped out of the sprockets, “I told you. This is your first fight. I'm not just gonna just let you sucker punch me. Be aggressive, that's how you win.”
 
Midnight backed away from the pile of boxes and gears, “No no no no no. I did not agree to any of this.”
 
Echo looked over in confusion, “But you said you agreed to be in the fighting league. It's right there in the title—fighting.”
 
“Yeah, but Bill said—”
 
The bat pony approached Midnight, “Bill says a lot of things. Doesn't mean they're true,” Midnight scrunched up her muzzle into a pout. That was not how you were supposed to conduct business, “Now, you have two options. Forfeit the match, or fight. What'll it be?”
 
Midnight opened her mouth to answer but closed it. She'd been roped into a fight without her even knowing it. She was going to get five hundred bits regardless—unless that was another lie that slimy stallion had told her—but if she won, she'd be clear to make even more bits.
 
“Ooohh, that got the gears turning,” Echo picked up one of the sprockets she was standing near, “Keekeekee, ah. I love having these fights in warehouses,” she tossed it back into the pile, “There's just so much material to work with.”
 
No! That stallion had blown any credibility he'd had. This whole thing was probably just one big racket. There were no bits. No customers. Just cheap crystals and false hopes. She should have never trusted a mail flyer. She'd cut her loses, get whatever bits she could and get out there.
 
Back to a kitchen table full of bills and a special talent she couldn't even make a living off of. She winced. What if it wasn't a racket? That blue crystal did look pretty real and Bill had set up shop in a Night Guard warehouse. It couldn't entirely be illegitimate. If she beat Echo, she could still jump ship with whatever bits she could get, but if she didn't fight the mare, she could lose out on the best chance she had yet at getting out of debt.
 
She smirked, “I pick 'fight.'”
 
“Good choice. We ca—” A terrible groan emanated from the shelf they had crashed into. Both ponies jerked their heads upward to see the top half of the large metal structure shift several feet as it bent down. A few of the remaining boxes on it fell to the ground with a crash. Echo looked at Midnight, “We can start by getting away from this thing before it collapses.”
 
“Good idea,” Midnight turned around and walked away from the mess before it could get a whole lot messier. Echo followed, being sure to remain behind the mare. They walked several rows of shelves away from the crippled shelf, passing a few stacked crates and even a really cool looking pyramid made entirely out of helmets. It dawned on Midnight. They were in a Night Guard warehouse. Who knew what kinds of amazing military hardware was in that place.
 
Echo looked back to make sure they were a safe distance away from the shelf before she ran up and tackled Midnight to the ground, “Don't let your guard down just 'cause we're getting away from something dangerous. At the very least, don't let your opponent walk behind you. That's just about the worst thing you could do. Especially when she can do this,” Echo rapidly jabbed Midnight's ribs with her forehooves several times
 
Midnight grunted in pain. She really should have just forfeited. It was starting to feel like it wasn't worth five hundred bits. This wasn't at all how any of this was supposed to go. Echo wasn't fat or out of shape, she was just as lean and athletic as she was, “Get off!” Midnight twisted her forehooves around over her head and weakly jabbed at the gray mare sitting on her back.
 
Due to the awkward angle and Echo's positioning, her feeble punches barely touched the mare. Echo looked down, “Come on. Is this your best? You gotta work for that win. You'll never get anywhere around here if you keep this up. You just have to stop horsing around.”
 
There was silence for a moment as the pun settled into the air. Midnight then heard Echo chortle and roll off her, kicking her legs up in the air as she laughed, “Keekeekeekee, horsing! The classics are always the best.”
 
Midnight stood up and stared flatly at the bat pony who was now lying on her back. If there was great benefit to Hollow Shades, it was that it didn't have a terrible pun in the name. Why most of Equestria was named like that, she'd never know.
 
Echo shakily stood up, “Ah, that's the stuff.” She looked at Midnight and the glare that had formed on her face, “Oh, come on. You had to have least smirked,” she suddenly ran at Midnight, causing her to stumble onto her back in shock, “Or at least taken the opportunity to attack me. I really do need to stop laughing at them when fighting, but they're just so dang punny Kee! Punny. Another classic.”
 
Midnight used her hind legs to kick the unfunny mare away from her. Great. Not only did she have to fight a pony much better at combat than she was expecting, but she had to deal with awful word play as well. Five hundred bits was seeming like chump change at this rate, and she was the chump who'd been sucked into it.
 
Echo rebounded from the kick and crept around Midnight, rubbing her now sore shoulder, “That's quite a powerful kick you have. You just might make a buck in this league. Keekee, buck. Somepony help me, I just can't stop.”
 
Midnight jumped up. There was no way she was giving that pony the satisfaction of pouncing on her after a joke like that. The two stalked around each other. Midnight glanced away to look around the warehouse. They'd moved away from the bent shelf and were now moving toward an aisle full of equipment. She grimaced. The shelves on either side of the aisle made it a tight corridor. She might be able to use it to her advantage.
 
In one quick move, Midnight twisted herself around and jumped into the air. She flapped her leathery wings and flew several feet off the concrete toward the aisle. Echo looked on in surprise, “Hey! Where ya going? You're not supposed to run away. This isn't a race, it's a fight. Come back here!” She took off and gave chase to the fleeing bat pony.
 
Midnight flew up close to the rafters as she swept through the aisle. From what she could gather from the blur that sped past her, purple and gray armor was stacked right up to the rafters on the shelves to her right and the ones to her left were completely barren save for a few scattered boxes. Echo gently batted at her tail, causing her to jump in panic and nearly swerve right into one of the shelves.
 
“I don't know what made you think zipping around in a warehouse full of obstacles was a good idea, but it's not,” the two abruptly jerked their bodies to the side to avoid a concrete pillar that held up the roof, “You could kill yourself doing this,” a smile wormed it's way onto Echo's face, “Why, what you're doing could be a grave mistake.”
 
Midnight audibly groaned. She had to figure out a way to win soon. If she didn't, those puns would probably kill her. This aisle and flight hadn't done a thing to improve her chances. And it's not like flying away from Echo would somehow cause the mare to forfeit.
 
A row of shelves full of sacks lay ahead of the two at the end of the aisle. Midnight grit her teeth. It was a really tight turn and she wasn't the best flyer. Better to slow down and take the turn easy than risk slamming into a metal rod or sack at full speed. She slowed the pace of her wing beats, but Echo kept on barreling forward.
 
“Gotcha!” Echo grabbed onto her tail and yanked it.
 
“Yah!” Midnight looked back and kicked a hind leg at Echo, “Let go!” The kicks were ineffective as Echo bobbed and weaved around them.
 
“No, you're the one who wanted to turn tail and run,” Echo's eyes widened in glee as she flipped Midnight's purple tail around, “Keekeekee—I didn't even mean to make that pun.”
 
Midnight jerked herself forward while Echo was distracted laughing at her own joke. Her tail slipped from the mare's hooves. She turned her head back around. Finally, now she could... crash into the sacks because she was distracted by that damn mare, “Uh oh.” She flared her wings to try and slow down. Her hooves shot out in front of her to brace and hopefully absorb most of the impact.
 
Echo wiped the tear from her eye, “I'll have to rememb—oh mangoes,” too distracted by her own humor, she had also failed to see the end of the aisle and followed Midnight into a line of heavy duty burlap sacks.
 

 
“Ow.” Midnight rubbed her wing. It wasn't broken. It couldn't be. She was self employed. She didn't have insurance—and certainly couldn't afford it if she did. It would cost a fortune to get the thing checked out by a doctor. But an open wing was a broken wing and she had flared them wide open. She hobbled out of the sacks and onto the concrete floor.
 
She looked up at the shelf and the piles of bolts and screws that had showered down from the ripped open sacks. Somehow, she had ended up at the bottom of the shelf. She wasn't quite sure how. Things were a little fuzzy.
 
Echo poked out her head out from between two sacks several yards away. Evidently she had also fallen down the shelf, “Wow, two crashes in one day. What a burlapse of judgeme—uff!” A heavy sack strategically hit her in the face.
 
Midnight smiled. What a shot. Who would have thought those puns could get her to throw a heavy sack of screws so accurately? She walked over to the downed bat pony. Now would be a good time to take advantage of the situation. Maybe she could try to choke her out and get her first win?
 
Echo pushed the sack away and wobbly stood up, dazed, “Eh, screw you.” She untied the sack's opening and pulled out a screw, “Keekeekeekeekee, get it? I'm full of it today. I'm just bursting at the seams,” she ran a hoof over the sack's stitched sides, “You could say I'm on a roll,” she looked around the tall shelves that lined the aisle for several seconds before her ears flattened in disappointment, “Ah, darn it. We're not in the bakery section.”
 
One of Midnight's eyes twitched. She was about to tackle the gray pony when her sore wing quite sharply advised her against that idea. She needed at least a few minutes to recover. A flight crash was something that only happened to her maybe once a year—but twice in one day? Against such heavy objects? It was just too much.
 
“Hey! You're not trying to run away again, are you?” Echo kicked the sack of screws over, sending an ocean of the pointed metal fasteners spilling onto the floor, before she jumped from the shelf in pursuit of Midnight, “You really have to knock that off,” she ran up and tackled Midnight to the ground, “Didn't I say turning your back on your opponent is a terrible strategy? Unless, of course, you're backing out of the fight.”
 
Midnight threw an elbow up at Echo's face before she could hear that laugh. Echo re-positioned herself in an attempt to avoid any future elbows or hooves, but Midnight used Echo's movement to her advantage and rolled, throwing the mare free. Midnight stood up and ran. Her wing still hurt and she had no confidence whatsoever she could win—Echo wasn't even taking this thing seriously. It was all a game of making as stupid of puns as possible. And she was handily winning.
 
She ran clear of the towering shelves and back into the open area of the warehouse. Her path was still fairly linear, however, due to the crates that lined each side. It would make picking a route easy, but would do nothing for trying to elude the punny bat pony.
 
“I'm really serious, now. You've got to quit with the running.” Midnight's ears twitched at the oncoming voice and she abruptly ducked to the ground, just as Echo passed inches overhead and skidded to a stop in front of her.
 
Echo clasp her wings back to her side, “See? I didn't even make a pun. That's when you know it's serious. This is a fight, not a derby,” she bent down and flared her leathery wings aggressively, “So let's fight.”
 
Midnight jumped onto one of the crates, using her forelegs to boost herself onto it's top, before she hopped off. Okay, panic was starting to set in a little, she'd admit. Once you start that fight or flight it's hard to switch. She looked forward in confusion. There were rows upon rows of clean and crisp clothes. All neatly hung on wheeled coat hanger racks. It looked like a second hand store. She could see a pyramid of wooden barrels poking up on the far end of the racks of clothing.
 
She started walking toward the barrels. Why not? As she walked, she looked at the hung clothing more closely. Judging from the pins and buttons on them they appeared to be Night Guard dress uniforms. Her eyes scanned down the rows. There had to be hundreds—maybe even thousands—all of different shapes and sizes. She even spotted a few of those tight fitting black spandex suits some wore to PR events to show off the “special forces” look.
 
Echo huffed as she landed, “This is really starting to get old,” she picked up one of the coat hangers from off the rack, “You really need to just hang up this habit,” she didn't laugh and put the hanger back on the rack, “Okay, that one wasn't that great. See? All this running is even wearing me ou—oh. Clothes. Wear. Keekeekeekee. Never mind. Still got it.”
 
She looked around the rows for any gray or purple fur, “Now, where oh where could you be?”
 
Midnight rolled her eyes before she crept under another line of clothes. She'd have to face Echo sooner or later—or she could always forfeit. She paused halfway under the uniforms. That really did sound like a great idea. So what if it was actually legit and she could make some more bits? After Bill's lies, there was no way she was going to bother with this fighting league, so what was the point of winning a fight?
 
“You're really wearing my patience thin, you know that? I wanna tie this loose thread up already.”
 
Her eyes narrowed. No. She was not going to lose to that. If Echo won, it would have to be through actually beating her. She was not going to give that mare any unearned satisfaction. Not after all those puns.
 
“Ah, there you are.”
 
Midnight's eyes widened. Uh oh. Echo rammed into her, causing her to lunge forward and knock over the row of uniforms in front of her. She threw the one that had landed on her and rolled out of the way, just in time to avoid Echo pinning her to the ground. She looked up. The rows of clothes had given way to some open space and the stack of barrels she had seen was on the other side of the opening. She snapped her gaze back to Echo and stumbled to her hooves.
 
“Don't forget to always use your environment to your advantage,” Echo flapped her wings, rose into the air, and kicked Midnight back. She winced and stumbled until she hit something hard and metallic. What in the world? Behind her was a large steam press used for ironing laundry. Must be how they got the uniforms so crisp.
 
The press suddenly hissed out some steam, causing Midnight to jump forward and right into the waiting hooves of Echo. Echo smiled, “Like this,” she pushed Midnight
 
Midnight felt her back hit the press's inner surface. The polished metal surface was freezing and sent a shiver up Midnight's spine as she contacted it. What? She looked down at the bat pony in panic, “What are you doing?!”
 
“Well, to answer your pressing question—keekeekee—I'm demonstrating a great way to knock your opponent out. One I'm sure you'll find quite flattering,” Echo nearly doubled over in laughter. She wiped a few tears from her eye, “That's the third time I've used that one and it still gets me.”
 
“What?” The meaning of the puns suddenly struck her, “N-No, you can't!” She started to hoist herself up, “What about 'don't kill or seriously injure,' huh?”
 
Echo punched Midnight in her soft underbelly several times to keep her down. Midnight grunted and squirmed on the press, “It's not going to seriously hurt you. Trust me, I've done this to at least a half dozen would-be fighters. And they all ended up fine. Ponies are very resilient and as a result are also very squishable. It's a great way to knockout your opponent and clinch the win. Like so.”
 
Midnight gasped as Echo grabbed onto the press's lid. With the mare's hooves distracted, Midnight rolled off of the press just as the lid was slammed shut and grunted upon hitting the hard concrete. She looked up. Steam slowly hissed out of the paper thin crack between the lid and bottom. She gulped. She'd nearly been flattened in that narrow gap.
 
Her gaze shifted over to Echo, who looked down at the pony who had escaped a flat fate, “You're insane.”
 
Echo's face lit up in glee, “Don't you mean I'm...” she leaned toward Midnight, “Batty. Eh? Eh?” she elbowed Midnight in the ribs, “Batty, and we're both bat po—ouch!”
 
Echo stumbled back from the punch. Midnight shook her now sore hoof. It was totally worth it. Especially as retaliation for that pun. She knew the mare would make a bat pony pun eventually, and was glad she could respond to it so effectively. She shakily stood up, “No, I mean you're crazy. Cuckoo. One apple short of a bushel. This is a fight, not some cartoon.”
 
“You're right, it is. And you're supposed to win. That's all the fighting league cares about. Bill doesn't care if that's because you choked your opponent out, or you turned her into a neatly pressed throw rug. All that matters is you win,” Echo charged forward, “Don't be scared to do what's necessary to win. If you hesitate, you won't make it very far.”
 
A bell suddenly buzzed and the press unlatched and popped open. Steam billowed out and covered Midnight in a thick mist. Echo growled and slowed to a stop. She scanned the haze for gray and purple fur. Next time, she needed to set the thing to stay shut longer. It might be a little more uncomfortable for anypony caught in it, but it would stop something like this from happening again.
 
A gray form burst through the thinning steam and crashed right into her. The two rolled over top of each other several times, each trying to wrestle the other down and pin her to the ground. Echo finally came out on top and tightly pinned Midnight' against the floor, face down. She smiled, “I guess since I choked on trying to squash you flat, I'll have to opt for the more traditional method of winning.”
 
She wrapped a hoof around Midnight's neck and started to apply pressure. This wasn't good. Midnight jerked herself up in an attempt to wiggle away from the chokehold, but Echo was firm and only increased her grip, “You were a fun opponent, Midnight. Definitely a barrel full of laughs,” The stack of barrels kitty-corner to the press caused Echo to squeal with laughter and loosen her grip.
 
Midnight used the desperate gasp of oxygen to elbow Echo in her stomach, causing that annoying snickering to turn into a much more satisfying groan of pain. Echo's chokehold fully loosened and Midnight pushed the mare off. Echo stumbled back and fell face down onto the open press.
 
The press's surface was now warm and wet thanks to its previous activation. Echo lifted her head from off the surface and shook it to clear it of the dizziness. That mare was proving to be much harder than she originally thought.
 
Midnight walked up, smirking. Echo had told her to take advantage of the circumstances and she did say ponies were resilient, “Sorry, Echo, but this fight's gone on for so long, I'm a little pressed for time now,” she reached up and grabbed the lid.
 
Echo looked over her shoulder, her amber eyes widening in fear at Midnight's word choice, “No, wai—uergh!” Midnight slammed the lid down and let the press's weight do the rest. The press slowly flattened down until there was only a thin crack between the lid and bottom. Echo's muffled moans were quickly overwhelmed by the hiss of the steam that escaped from the thin crack.
 
Midnight looked at the press in worry. That looked like it would really hurt. Were some bits really worth doing that to somepony? There were always other ways to make money. Like... well, maybe... okay so she couldn't actually think of any off the top of her head, but there were definitely some.
 
“My, my. That was quite impressive.”
 
She jumped at the sudden voice and turned around. Standing on the wooden loading dock was Bill, a wide smile on his face. Him! Midnight snarled and flew up to the stallion, “What was that?! That's some orientation you have there.”
 
Bill's joy was dampened by the angry mare who was now a few feet away, “Oh, you're angry about that?”
 
“Damn right I am. You just burned away what little benefit I was going to give this fighting league. I'm outta here.”
 
His smile fell. It seems he had underestimated her displeasure. He raised a hoof diplomatically, “Now, now, Miss Dream. Don't be hasty. I apologize for being less that truthful, but I needed to test your resolve and skills in an unbiased, spontaneous manner.”
 
She smacked the hoof away, “But nothing. First impressions are everything and you lied for yours. What's that supposed to say about this? I'm gonna pass,” she looked around, “Now where's the exit?”
 
He pointed to an inconspicuous door past the press and barrels, “It's over there.” she turned around and started walking toward it, “But before you leave. Don't you want your winnings?” She stopped mid-step, causing him to smirk. He picked the small pouch he had dropped from off the ground and rattled it.
 
Midnight's tufted eyes perked and shifted at the sound of bits being jostled carelessly. She turned her head around, “Winnings?”
 
“I may have been a little dishonest, but the part about the bits was very much real,” he opened the pouch and pulled out a hoofful of gold coins, before letting each one slip deliberately back into the pouch. “Five hundred bits. Cash. Just as agreed.”
 
Midnight fully turned around. She could grab the bits and get out. She had won and there was no shame in taking the snake's money. It was five hundred bits—her bits. There was no sense in just throwing hard earned money aw—the timer on the press buzzed and the lid opened, once again releasing a small plume of steam.
 
Bill carefully placed the pouch onto his withers, “Ah, Echo's ready. Why don't we look at your handiwork before I give you your money?”
 
Midnight stared for a moment, “Fine.” She was only doing it to make sure the bat pony was okay. Echo may have been annoying, and had tried to squash her flat, but that didn't mean she had to give up all her empathy.
 
The two walked over to the press. By the time they arrived, the steam had fully disappeared. Midnight looked down and her eyes widened. Echo's athletic gray body was pressed flat against the metal surface of the press. Her wafer thin forelegs were sprawled up over her head while her hind legs had been tightly flattened out right next to each other while her tail was flattened out on top of the legs. The very tip of the blue tail extended just beyond her flat rear hooves.
 
One of Echo's leathery wings was spread out while the other had been flattened out against her back like a tattoo. Midnight inadvertently shuffled her wings. They could be pretty sensitive at times and that did not look comfortable. She couldn't see Echo's face as her head had been flattened face down against the press. All she could see was the mare's flat blue mane that ran down just to the nape of her thin neck.
 
“Like I was saying: impressive,” Bill reached a hoof down and grabbed onto Echo's head. He pulled but the squashed bat pony wouldn't budge an inch. She was firmly flattened to the press, “Now I remember why I don't do clean up,” he muttered to himself. He looked over at Midnight, “Would you mind lending me a hoof? I'd rather not have to find something to scrape her off with.”
 
Midnight nodded dumbly. What else was she supposed to do? She grabbed onto one of Echo's hind legs, just below the thin form of a bee. Why did she have a bee for a cutie mark, anyway? Or was that supposed to be a moon and clouds? Why did it look like a bee? The moon's not supposed to have stripes on it.
 
Echo's gray fur was damp. Midnight withdrew her hooves in surprise at the sudden wetness before placing them back in position. The mare had just been doused in steam—not to mention intense pressure—for a couple minutes. It made sense she'd be wet. She and Bill yanked several times before Echo popped off the press, causing her to clatter stiffly against the floor.
 
“There we go. Thanks for the help, Miss Dream,” Bill picked up Echo's rigid, flat body from off the ground and leaned her against the press.
 
Midnight looked over the front side of Echo's body. Several of the mare's bangs had been flattened down over her face and nearly obscured her eyes. Speaking of her eyes, they were wide open but glazed over. Not surprising. If a well-placed punch or chokehold could knock somepony out, than a heavy steam press surely could as well. Her tongue had been flattened out of her mouth, while her fangs poked out. All in all, she looked pretty silly.
 
“Here you are,” Bill threw the pouch at her. “Don't ever say I'm not a stallion of my word,” she caught it with a wing before grabbing it with a hoof. When was the last time she had that many bits? She opened it and gazed down at the shiny, golden disks within. It had been so long, she'd almost forgotten what a pile of bits looked like. They looked beautiful, but would look even more beautiful at the bank where they could then be transferred to her creditors.
 
She sighed contently. So this is what having money felt like. It was a grand feeling. She wished she could feel like it more often. Of course, if she kept on fighting... No! She shook her head to clear the greedy thought. Not after what Bill had done. And certainly not after that fight. It wouldn't be worth it. She could find another way to get bits. She just needed more time to think of one.
 
“You have the Benefactors to thank for that.”
 
Midnight snapped her gaze from the small sack of bits, “The... Benefactors?”
 
Bill grabbed Echo's rigid, flat body and carefully balanced it onto his back. He spread out his brown wings to provide added stability, “Oh, yes. Think of them as the fighting league's owners. They're the ones who came up with this whole idea. They're also fairly well connected,” he gestured at the boxes and crates, most marked with a big red “Property of the Lunar Night Guard of Equestria” stamp, “But the less you know about that, the better.”
 
Of course. Nothing like some cloak and dagger stuff to go along with the lies. She noticed the thin gray and blue line that was Echo resting delicately on his back, “Wait, where are you taking her?”
 
“Oh. She'll get some medical attention and plenty of rest. Maybe spend a day or two as a cutout.” he slowly walked back toward the wooden loading dock before abruptly stopping, “That reminds me. If you do decide to continue and you win, please bring your opponent to the nearest league office so we can certify your victory. We would use the crystal recordings, but they just take so long to process, it'd be much faster to do it manually.”
 
Midnight snorted, “I told you. I'm done.”
 
He shrugged, nearly knocking Echo's flat body from off his back, “Suit yourself. You'd make a fantastic addition to the Underground Fighting League's roster. It's not my money you're throwing away,” he continued walking, “Good evening, Miss Dream.”
 
She started walking toward the door near the barrels. She didn't need him or his lies and she certainly didn't need to nearly kill herself fighting. She'd find another way to make some bits—maybe even one that actually used her special talent and not that useless Night Guard training—she was certain.