//------------------------------//
// Wits End &: Fighting 
// Story: Caverns & Cutie Marks: Companion Stories 
// by TheColtTrio 
//------------------------------//

	Wits End glanced up from his breakfast, toast hanging loosely in his mouth. “Say what now?”
“The Coliseum,” Purple Heart said plainly. “You’re gonna fight in it.”
“It’ll be fun, I’m sure,” Light Patch agreed.
Wits blinked, staring blankly at the two stallions. “Um… no?”
Purple Heart rolled his eyes. “Come on, the both of us have already done it! You’ve got to do it too!”
“But isn’t Patchy’s fight non-canon?”
The purple barbarian snorted as he waved a hoof dismissively. “Phfft. No-pony’ll know until the last minute.”
“Listen.” Light Patch placed his hooves on the table, leaning in front of the unicorn. “We both know you’re gonna fight.”
Wits End raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?” he asked, pushing him away.
“Because if you don’t, we’ll be uneven.”
Wits’ eye twitched. “I don’t-”
“Three stallions,” Purple Heart said smugly. “Equal in caliber, but only two have fought in the Gallopilli Coliseum.”
A tic twitched in Wits End’s cheek. “Ghk. Fine! I’ll fight in the stupid coliseum!” He stood and marched toward the door, grumbling under his breath. Behind him, the two stallions bumped hooves.


* * *


It was a simple process to sign up for the arena. Since Wits End wasn’t fighting for his life or the amusement of a group of bored nobles, he had been stuck in as a walk-on fighter. He’d be fighting a single other walk-on until one of them yielded, or was unable to keep fighting. 
The mint-colored stallion took a few experimental swings of his sword at a straw dummy. “Haven’t used this thing in a while,” he muttered. 
Worst case scenario, he thought, striking at the target, I can surrender as soon as the other guy shows up. I’m not getting the stuffing beaten out of me for nothing. He took running swing, slicing the dummy’s ‘foreleg’ clean off. “That’s pretty anime,” he thought aloud.
“Not bad.”
Wits End turned to see a lilac mare watching him from a safe distance; her leather armor seemingly at odds with her well maintained wings and neatly trimmed deep-blue mane. A thin blade sat in its scabbard at her side; a loop of metal attached to the handle just the perfect size for a hoof.
“I do my best,” he said, sheathing his own sword with a small flourish.
The mare smiled, looking him over from cap to cloak. “I didn’t expect to see a wizard in the arena,” she said. She held out a hoof. “Merryweather Skies, walk-on fighter.”
“I blame friends and peer pressure.” Wits shook the offered hoof, making note of the polish on the young pegasus’ hooves. “Wits End, likewise. If you don’t mind me asking, but for a gladiator, you seem a bit…”
“Cheerful?” Merryweather offered. “Lithe? Untested?”
“I was gonna say ‘clean’.”
Merryweather chuckled. “That’s because this is my first match.” Her hoof moved as if to brush her mane, but stopped as she noticed it and forced it back to the floor. “Family tradition says I’ve got to fight in battle at least once. I figured the coliseum would be safer than finding a war somewhere.”
Wits End frowned. “Only marginally. Do you have to win?”
“No, thank goodness.” The mare thought for a moment. “Although, it would make things easier for me with my father. My older brothers lost their first fights, and… well, let’s just say it’s been hard for them to get any help from the old man.” Merryweather shrugged noncommittally. “What about you? You said something about friends?”
“Yeah…” Wits End sighed, once again cursing his obsession with evenness. “Both of my friends have already fought. My inner daemons demand that 	I do the same.” He saw the look of worry and confusion on the mare’s face. “Not literally. Metaphor.”
Merryweather’s shoulders relaxed with the assurance. “Oh good. Who are your friends? Maybe I’ve seen them fight.”
“Well, one of them I don’t think I can do justice to.” Wits shuttered. “Or want to try for that matter. Purple Heart, though-”
“Wait, Purple Heart?” Merryweather’s eyes lit up. “The barbarian stallion who hasn’t lost any of his fights?”
Wits End stopped. “Well, he’s gotten the everloving- He’s taken quite the beating, but yeah, that’s him.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a fan, are you?”
“What? No no! It’s just so rare that anypony gets as far in the coliseum as he has without losing! I mean, with his strength and his skills, he could probably take on the Royal Guard without a problem, especially with that Jan Ken Hufu attack of his!” A blush crossed Merryweather’s face as she realized how excited her voice had gotten. “Well, maybe I’m a bit of a fan.”
“You hide it well,” Wits deadpanned.
“You can hardly blame me. I’ve been watching fights all week in preparation of my turn. He’s the only one who’s been winning who isn’t built like a rhino or has the personality of pond scum.” She shook her head. “Anyway, let’s move on from that, okay? Do you plan on using magic in the arena?”
If I could, then I would, Wits thought. But like in that fight with the scorpion, I can’t exactly ‘Learning’ them into submission. “I kinda assumed magic was off limits during a fight.”
Merryweather shook her head. “The fights are pretty much no-holds-barred when it comes to walk-ons. As long as you’re not throwing killing curses or threatening the crowd, you can do whatever you want.”
“Hmm… Good to know.” Not so useful for me, unless the other guy has some skill I can copy. “What kind of fighters are there in the pool? Do you know?”
“Let’s see…” Merryweather thought for a moment. “The quite a few walk-ons for today. I think the mix is pretty even, so there’s no way to tell who you’d get matched with.” She chuckled. “Of course, the chances of you and me fighting have got to be pretty slim, don’t you think?”
Wits End started to laugh, only to stop suddenly. “I get the feeling Light Patch is shouting something about Murphy again…”
Now it was Merryweather’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Light Patch? The guy who drank-”
“The less time spent on that, the better.” The sound of cheering from above them drowned out the noise around them. “Something’s going on up there.”
“Sounds like the current fight is over.” Merryweather stretched her forelegs. “I’m gonna go try and relax before my name’s called. Good luck with your match!”
“And good luck to you!” Wits waved as the lilac mare trotted away. After a moment, he turned back to the training dummy, looking at the severed ‘foreleg’ on the floor. “I sure hope I don’t have to pay for that…”


* * *


“FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS!” the announcer declared as the last combatants either trotted or were dragged from the battlefield. “Put your hooves together for our next pair of fighters! First: he might not be the biggest fighter, but he’s got the heart of a lion, the eyes of a hawk, and the horn of a mighty narwhal! Please welcome Wits End!”
Wits End trotted out on to the field, shooting a glare at the narrator’s box. “WHO’RE YOU CALLING A MICRO-MIDGET SO SMALL HE NEEDS A LADDER TO REACH A DOOR HANDLE?!” he ranted, his words drowned out by the already-hyped crowd. “Whatever,” he muttered. “Who am I fighting, then?”
“And our second contender! This family is a constant companion with the arena. Rain or shine, foul or fair: Merryweather Skies!”
Wits End’s jaw dropped as the lithe young mare waved a hoof at him. “You have got to be kidding.”
Merryweather drew her blade, raising it in a salute with a smile. “Don’t think I’ll take it easy on you just ‘cause we know each other!” she called across the arena.
Wits sighed, drawing his own sword and saluting with a flourish. “I should’ve seen this coming…”
“Two fighters enter!” the announcer was saying, as the gates closed behind them. “Only one can leave the victor! Elysium or Tartarus. Let’s rock! Begin!”
Merryweather flared her wings out and took off, launching herself blade-first at the pinto unicorn. With an exclamation halfway between a yelp and a squawk, Wits threw himself to one side, sending up a cloud of dust as he tumbled away.. “What’re you trying to do?” he shouted. “Skewer me?”
“That’s the point of a fight!” Merryweather replied, sliding to a stop. “A pony who strikes fast strikes first!” She punctuated her sentence by launching herself at the unicorn again, piercing through his cloak. “Whoops, might’ve gone too fa- Huh?”
Wits’ empty cloak slid off of Merryweather’s blade, falling to the ground at her hooves. The mint-colored stallion stood a few steps away, now clad only in his silk shirt and breeches. “Alright then,” he said calmly, tossing his hat to one side with his magic. “Let’s. Get. Dangerous.
The two ponies leapt at each other. Merryweather lunged at the center of Wits’ chest, only to have her thinner blade batted away as he raised his curved sword over his head. Wits was about to strike at the mare when she flapped her wings, kicking a blinding cloud of dust up as she retreated upwards. “Good to see you can fight against more than straw dummies,” Merryweather quipped.
Wits picked up his cloak, frowning at the hole the pegasus’ point had made in it. “I’d hate to disappoint,” he returned, flinging the blue garment up at the hovering mare.
Merryweather swiped at the cloak, splitting it in down the back. “You’ll have to do better than that! You’ll never hit me up he-” Her eyes went wide as a mint-colored missile slammed into her, the two of them falling to the ground in a mass of tangled limbs; their blades sticking point-first into the ground further away. “How?”
“All warfare is based on deception,” Wits said with a grin, tightening his grip on the mare’s sword hoof. He mentally thanked the random number gods for whatever help they’d given him on that jump check. “Seems like pegasi aren’t use to fighting somepony who can reach them, eh?”
Merryweather growled. She pulled her wings free, flaring them out to either side. “Crimson Sky!” Her wings glowed faintly red, and she spun in Wits’ grasp; her wing feathers leaving cuts where they hit.
Wits End held in a groan of pain, scrambling away from the pegasus. He looked himself over; thin slashes marked his shirt and the skin underneath. “What in the world was that? I look like I tried to hug an irate cat!”
Merryweather grinned, lowering her stance as she watched the unicorn. “Deception, remember? No-pony ever said anything about family techniques.” She glanced over to where the blades were stuck in the ground, holding her glowing wings out. “So, do you think you can reach your sword before I reach you?”
Wits frowned. She’s too fast, he thought. She’ll cut me to ribbons before I can get halfway there. If I had wings, I could use Imitate Skill to beat her at her own game. He looked around, searching for anything he could use to his advantage. His eyes focused on his cloak, laying on the ground nearby. Maybe? His horn glowed, pulling the sliced cloth closer.
“That won’t work again! Crimson Sky!” Merryweather took off, sailing low over the ground at the pinto stallion. Wits End whipped his cloak across the ground in front of him, sending a cloud of dust up in front of him. He then pulled the cloak around his neck, clicking the clasp in place as the split cloth draped on either side of him.
The mint-colored unicorn raced into the cloud, aiming himself at the last place he saw the pegasus. “Imitate Skill: Crimson Sky!” he shouted, his horn glowing pale green as his magic spread over the cloak. The two charging ponies caused the cloud to disperse as they sailed past each other, coming to a stop a few yards past. The fighters stood still, the the crowd holding their breath as they waited.
Merryweather dropped to the ground, her wings lying limp. The ground under her dyed red. “H-hayfeathers.”
“Well, that was certainly an exciting match-up!” the announcer shouted. “But, with that final blow, it’s clear that the better fighter is-”
“Hold it!” The crowd turned as one back to the arena. Wits End was lying on his back, staring up at the sky with a grin on his face. “Oh dear. It looks like I’m down too.”
Silence filled the coliseum. “W-well then.” The announcer cleared his throat. “In that case, with both fighters down, then this match must be called... A draw!”


* * *


Wits End hissed through his teeth as the bandage was pulled tighter across his chest. “Is this really necessary?”
The nurse treating him rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a pair of lacerations. That stunt of yours at the end with the cloak might’ve looked good to the audience, but you still got the stuffing beaten out of you.”
“You’re telling me?” Wits sighed, glancing at the tattered remains of his cloak. “I’m gonna have to get that replaced…”
“Better that than you getting fatally hurt,” Twilight said from the doorway, crossing the room to where Wits was seated. “What made you think fighting in the coliseum was a good idea?”
“A combination of peer pressure and poor decision-making skills.” Wits End motioned at his bandage. “Apparently this isn’t serious enough to even warrant magical healing. I’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
Twilight shook her head. “Next time, just don’t get beaten so badly, okay?”
Wits grinned. “I’ll do my best.” His expression darkened. “How’s Merryweather? The mare I fought?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Merryweather appeared in the doorway with a smile. “You got me pretty good with that trick of yours, but the nurses fixed me up good as new.” She walked closer, standing next to Wits End. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did.”
“What, get the everliving-”
“Pretending to get knocked out so the match would be a draw,” she interrupted. “Since I didn’t lose, my father said he’d give me enough money to start a business here in the city.” Merryweather’s smile widened as she blushed. “Of course, he also said I should keep my hoof on you. Apparently, you’d make a good Special Somepony for some lucky mare.” She winked and left the infirmary.
Twilight smirked at Wits End. “Special Somepony material, huh?”
Wits shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a good guy.”
“...You really got beat up, didn’t you.”
“I literally cannot move because of the pain.”
Twilight sighed. “Alright, let’s get you back to your room.”