In Another Life II: Chance's Folly

by Bateman66

Captured...Alive

Alistair and Jam leaned over Commodore’s shoulder, carefully examining the fine piece of craftsmanship he held in his hooves. The sleek white piece of plastic sat vertically upwards, its electronic screens emitting a faint glow under the shaded tree where he sat.

“What kind of Tiny-mon is that?” asked Alistair, not averting his eyes from the screen.

“Blastoid,” responded Commodore, not looking up as well. “He’s a water type, and since I’m in Fire Oak City, all the Tiny-mon here, no matter if their fire type or not, have a weakness to water types.”

“Oh,” he said simply as he continued to stare down at the screen. “Can multiple people play at once?”

“They can, but another Joyboy is necessary to sign in as another player. An adaptor cord is also needed to connect between the two battles.”

“Does Jam have his Joyboy then?”

Jam shook his head. “Na, I left it at home. It’s still fun to watch though.”

Alistair nodded his head and looked down at the screen. The blue pixel monster that was on one side of the screen shot a blue line at another monster at the other side of the screen. Several bars of texts popped up as the line collided with the monster, feeding back statistics and damage levels.

Shaking his head, Alistair tapped on Commodore’s shoulder.

“What?” the blue colt asked slightly annoyed at being disrupted from his game.

“I think I’m going to head home now, I got some work to do.”

“Really?” asked Commodore. “Its summer time and you don’t go to school, what work could you have?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s some stuff my caretaker wanted me to do. It can’t wait.”

Commodore shrugged. “Alright, you gotta do what you gotta do. Speaking of which, you still up for coming over next week?”

Alistair smiled unsurely. “I don’t know, wouldn’t it be kinda…awkward around your parents? I mean, I don’t want to intrude or anything, and if their doing something important that’s fine, I can wait to come over another time.”

He shook his head. “Dude, it’ll be in the morning so they’ll most definitely be at work. There’s no chance you’d even see them.”

“What about your brother then? What’ll he do?”

“I’ll tell him to go to his room, like I always do. He won’t be a problem.”

Alistair shrugged. “Alright, if it’s that custom fit…I’ll come.”

“Yes!” yelled Commodore victoriously. “Now I can finally show you how games are supposed to be played, on a console!

“Hey,” said Jam, “portables are still dang fine systems and you know it!”

“They are, they are, but there not as good as consoles.”

“Consoles just have flashier graphics and more hardware power, nothing else.”

“Graphics and power are a pretty big things Jam.”

“Not always.”

“Most of the time.”

“Like when?”

“When--”

“Guys!” shouted Alistair, “I’m going now. See you.”

“See you,” said Jam as he adjusted his glasses.

“Remember,” reminded Commodore, “next week, don’t forget.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“I hope so.”

-----------------------------

Alistair walked slowly down the dusty pathway, purposely kicking up bits of soil to make little dirt clouds as he walked. The sun shown painfully over his head, making his brushed brown hair burn as it collected more and more heat. Touching the top of his head, he felt the blistering light seem to scald the inside of his palm.

The dirt itself on the path seemed to have been so burned by the summer heat, that it had mysteriously changed in color from brown to yellow, giving the impression that the landscape had suddenly turned into an out of place desert. To contrast against this, the Everfree Forest sat on both sides of the pathway, green as can be and shaded from the sun’s reach.

Continuing to walk, he thought over what precisely he would do once he got to Twilight’s house. Everything else he could think of seemed menial and anti-social in comparison to hanging out with Jam and Commodore. Perhaps he’d made the decision to go home too early.

He considered walking back, maybe just saying that he’d changed his mind, but he quickly decided against it. It’d be awkward to come back after walking away, he thought to himself. And then they’d know that you lied to them, what kind of impression would that give them?

Shaking his head to push the thoughts out of his mind, he continued to walk forward. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do with himself the rest of the day, but he knew could figure something out.

-----------------------------

“Agent Eight, do you see him?”

“Yes, I see him.”

“Should we proceed?”

“No, wait for him to pass, the angle will be better.”

“Yes sir.”

------------------------------

Alistair kicked another cloud of dust onto the ground and jolted as he heard an unsettling rip from one of his fur shoes. Grudgingly peering down at his feet, he could make out a large tear along the right foot’s front, fully exposing the tips of his toes to the sun.

Cursing to himself, he stopped for a moment and slowly slipped the damaged and undamaged shoes off his pasty white feet. Holding them in both hands, he continued down the pathway, the scorching dirt already burning his unprepared feet.

------------------------------

“He’s passed.”

“Ready to commence?”

“Absolutely.”

“Deploy projectile…now.”

“Yes sir.”

------------------------------

The shinny metal sphere hurled out of the lush green Everfree Forest. Bouncing once against the dusty road, it picked up in speed and flew straight towards the unaware Alistair. Turning his head to the noise, he moved just in time for the object to slam him square center in the face, sending him full force to the ground.

Landing on his shoulder, he yelled out as pain shot up through his face and collar bone. Struggling to his feet, he began to hobble forwards but quickly stopped in his tracks. Now, right in front of him, just were he’d been facing, was a silent phalanx of five stallions blocking the road, staring coldly in his direction.

Turning around in fear, he could likewise see another line of five stallions blocking the way he just came. For a painful second he looked at both groups, and knew all to well that he was trapped.

As on queue, two ponies from his front charged at him, their faces closed in a solemn sense of violence. One of the two leaped forward with unsuspecting agility and smashed his right hoof into Alistair’s chest.

Feeling a flash of adrenaline and rage, Alistair decked the stallion with his elbow and drove his first into the bridge of its snout. Yelping once, the stallion fell down, cradling the wound that was now spurting blood.

The other stallion, which now stood at a small distance from him, pulled out something sharp and square from behind his torso, a dagger. Clenching the knife tightly in his teeth, the stallion hopped effortlessly into the air and pointed the blade downwards toward the standing Alistair.

Not thinking twice, Alistair conjured lightening into his right palm and blasted the un- expecting assailant with a single bolt of electricity. Launching upwards, the pony was sent flying backwards into the forest, a trail of smoke leading the way.

Clenching his hurt knuckles, Alistair spun around as he felt something heavy and painful tackle him from behind. Falling face forward, he screamed out as his skull impacted savagely against the unforgiving earth. The stallion pushed aggressively against his back, the full force of his very weight beginning to crush him.

Roaring in rage, another stream of electricity erupted in his hands as he blasted the stallion off him. Moving back to his feet, he caught a glimpse of three more attackers moving in on him. They came towards him in a triangle formation, each one symmetrically placed away from the other one as they slowly circled in.

Preparing more lightening in his hands, he felt something hard and circular impact against his back. Buckling over in agony, he could see the three ponies running towards him now. Forcing himself upwards, he blindly punched through the air, nailing one of the stallions in the jar.

Lightening appearing in his hands, he savagely grabbed at the two other stallions, sending thousands of painful electric volts into their unsuspecting bodies. Screaming in pain and surprise, the colts fell backwards against each other, and collapsed to the ground unconscious.

“Come on!” he screamed. “COME ON!”

The three remaining colts, two in front of him, one behind him, nervously looked at one another, and then quickly pulled out several more metal spheres from their adjacent saddle bags. Tossing them in a storm of motion, the objects swarmed towards him in a flash.

Diving to the ground, he blasted the two colts to his front with bolts to the chest and quickly slid back to his feet. Sprinting towards the frightened last colt, he yelled out with full rage as he raised his fist high above his head.

Shutting his eyes in anticipation, the stallion quivered as Alistair laid a single direct strike straight into the colt’s face. He could feel the speed force slamming against the stallion, as he fell to the ground without even a sound.

“Is that it!?!” he yelled to the road. “Any one else wanna take a shot!?! Who wants to be a…” He trailed off, realizing the silence around him. No one else stood in his way.

The adrenaline in his head seemed to suddenly shut off with the realization; taking with it any resistance to the pain in his body. Immediately, his back felt achy and twisted, his face sliced and stingy, and his chest cracked and sore, the several blows he’d endured feeling like hundreds. He groaned buckling over as his throbbing body’s ills hit him all at once, catching him off guard. Taking a couple deep breaths, he slowly moved himself back up and began to inspect his wounds.

He felt around his cheeks, gently tapping at the emerging bruises from there to his mouth, hoping that no teeth had been knocked out the scuffle. Sticking his hand down his shirt, he felt around the crest of his chest for any trails of cuts or bruises. Finding a small patch on his right lower rib and pectoral, he moved his hand back out of his shirt.

Rubbing the back and top of his head, he pinpointed several regions of his skull where swelling was beginning to take place, giving his head a slow and heavy feeling. Last but not least, he felt around his back for any noticeable damage, and winced as he felt a nasty and still bleeding gash on his side. Swallowing fear, he continued to look around his body, searching for anything he’d missed.

While doing this he noticed that the left shoulder area of his shirt had been ripped off, the entire cloth gone exposing his skin to the sky. “No…” he said to himself sadly, “not the shirt, my good and only shirt…” Rubbing his naked shoulder dejectedly, he felt an overwhelming sense of loss for the tiny piece of his clothing, ruined and gone forever.

Kicking a little dust cloud with his toes, he looked around at the crowd of ten stallions that lay before him, all unconscious, burned and bleeding, all harmed by him alone. Rubbing his fingers along the tops of his hands, he wiped the excess blood onto the thighs of his pants and spat onto the ground.

Closing his eyes in anguish, he bent down at in odd hunch and sighed. He felt some peace return to him but he couldn’t help but think about his special clothes, ruined now. He knew he’d have to get new ones now, ones that weren’t his, ones that be from this world and not the other one. He didn’t have much from the Realm of Solitude, only the clothes on his back, and those where starting to leave him.

Shaking his head sadly, he pushed himself back to his feet, and opened his eyes.

“Well, look at you,” said a familiar female voice from behind him.

Turning around, he was perturbed to find that his pottery teacher, Ms. Press, was standing calmly among the lines of injured stallions, her height seeming to be elevated as all around lay quietly on the ground.

Her straight purple mane was tied back in a pony tail while her gray fur looked freshly washed and kept. But the most striking characteristic to him was the odd personality she had about. Her tone and body language suggested power, control, but with a weird touch of courteousness and patience. It seemed that a completely different mare was standing in front of him.

“Ms. Press?” he asked as if confirming the fact she was there. “What are you doing here?”

She chuckled and walked a bit closer to him. “Oh, just going for a stroll, admiring the view. It was quite a sight, let me tell you.”

He raised his eyebrows, confused with the circumstances. “View? What view?”

Smiling, she stepped a bit closer to him. “You, of course.”

“I don’t think I know what you’re referring to, Ms. Press.”

She condescendingly shook her head. “Don’t act coy; you know exactly what I’m referring to.” She gestured to the battle scene. “This, all of it.”

“Oh…you saw that…”

“Yes, I did.”

He paused for a moment contemplating what to say. “Am I in trouble?”

“Yes,” she said casually, “but not with the authorities, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He sighed in relief. “Oh, thank goodness! I was sure that somepony would—wait a second, what did you say?”

“Me?” she answered, surprised with him acknowledging her. “I didn’t say anything; I simply said that the authorities aren’t after you.”

“No-no-no, you said I was in trouble, but not with them.”

She smirked. “My, my, aren’t you the observant one today. Certainly a change of pace from your normal complacent and dim-witted personality.”

He furred his brow. “Thanks for the compliment, jerk.”

“Is that anyway to treat lady?” She asked with a mocking sense of surprise. “Especially one that’s here to subdue you for your crimes.”

He sternly folded his arms. “I don’t particularly see how I’ve done anything wrong. These ponies attacked me, I defended myself, there’s no law against self-preservation.”

“No, there’s not,” she said while shaking her hoof, “but your crimes stretch far wider then what took place today, and although most in Equestria believe you to be innocent, a higher power thinks otherwise.”

He stepped back slightly, his palms held up in defense. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

She stepped over a fallen stallion and approached him even closer. “And that, my fair little ape, is where you are most certainly wrong. You’ve done plenty already you just don’t realize it.”

He opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it. Thinking for a moment, he began to slowly back away, his palms still held up in defense. “Look, I don’t know what in the hoof you’re even talking about, but it’s getting late and my caretaker might be wondering where I am. It was very nice talking to you Ms. Press, but I have to get going.”

Shale Press was now only a few yards away from him. “Is that really how you’re going to end this conversation, walking away?” She flashed forward in the blink of an eye and smashed her front hoof into his face. “Because I’ve got plenty more to say!”

He stumbled backwards from the strike, but quickly recovered to a fighting stance. Swinging with his left arm, he aimed a punch directly for her side. Dodging under it, she countered with another hoof to his face, sending him farther back.

“You’ve been playing a high stakes game since you first infected this realm with your presence, human.” She charged forward and slammed her head into his ribs.

“Whether you realize it or not, you’re very existence here has tainted the flow of events, tarnished how the world is supposed to be handled.”

She aimed another hoof at his face, but he quickly sidestepped it and grabbed her swinging leg. Conjuring electricity to his hands, he fiercely held onto her as waves of lightening shot up through his hands.

A spiking sensation of pain and fire wailed through her foreleg and spread throughout her entire body. Every nerve in her body screamed out, the pain coming from every direction. She tried to wring away from his grasp, but the electricity and his grip were too strong.

Twisting her body around, she sent her elbow crashing into the side of his neck with every ounce of strength she had. Gasping for air, he let go of her foreleg and fell to the ground, his mouth desperately gaping for air. Stomping once on his chest, she aggressively pressed her hoof against his torso, pinning him to the ground.

He struggled slightly against her force, but stopped as she drove her hoof further into his torso. After a minute of this, he no longer stirred and simply quivered at the pain she continued to inflict.

As quickly as the fight had started, it was over, her opponent broken and lame. And although it had been her who’d delivered the final blows, she felt disappointed that the moment hadn’t lasted longer. She’d dreamed of this fight for almost three months, imaging each and every strike she’d endure onto him, savoring every detail of his pained and weak expressions. And now, as he lay helplessly on the ground with her hoof at his throat, she knew all to well that her hate was not satisfied.

“Can you hear me!?” she said to him. “Can you hear what I’m saying?”

He mumbled something unintelligible and attempted to reach forward at his face. Stamping her other hoof on top of his hand, she continued to speak.

“You fought well considering your circumstances, hero. But I hope this was a valuable lesson in instructing that you’re not only outnumbered but outclassed and outmaneuvered. You will always lose when up against us, or me. Just thought you should know that.”

He groaned and slowly nudged to his side, not seeming to hear what she said.

“Hmm, you’re loosing consciousness, eh? Let me help you with that.” She raised her hoof of his hand and quickly brought it down on the top of his head. With a loud konk, his eyes rolled back and his breath became heavy.

She smiled at the motionless Alistair. “Lights out, boy.”

-------------------------------

Several hours later, as the sun began to move towards the mid edge of the sky, and the heat of the day began to wane with the light of the sun, Commodore and Jam walked side by side down the same beaten path, discussing their incredibly productive day.

“Normally I’d think that Chogath has the better stats, but apparently when given a single attack potion its speed in battle is decreased.”

Jam shook his head. “That’s why you never use rock types; they always have weird defects when using any enhancers.”

“No way, that hasn’t happened with my Garren or Dak monsters before. I think it might just be exclusive to Chogath.”

“No, there’s still a heightened possibility for them to be affected, they just have higher resistance.”

“Where’d you find this out?”

“Strategy guide, they still have a few copies at the Game Hut.”

“How much was yours?”

“Fifteen bits, it was on sale.”

“Darn, I only have ten.”

“Don’t your parents give you an allowance?”

“Yeah, the ten bits I have is this week’s allowance.”

They walked a bit farther down the road, arguing as they went. However, once reaching a certain section of the path, Commodore stopped in his tracks.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jam, looking at his friend.

Commodore seemed to be staring intently at the dirt along the road, as if something was buried beneath it.

“Jam…do you notice anything…off about this road?”

The red colt tapped his chin with his hoof. “Hmmm, well…I don’t see anything that striking it just looks a little--”

“--Messed up,” finished Commodore, “like something happened to it, recently.”

Jam sighed and shook his head. “And what makes you think that?”

Commodore walked over to the misshapen area of the road. “The lines, the marks, the depressions, they’re fresh, otherwise they’d have been brushed over by the weekly street sweepers.”

He shrugged. “Ok, but what makes you think something happened?”

Commodore glared at him, frustrated with his intolerance of mystery. “Hello? Don’t you see it? Weird lines and drag marks all over a random stretch of road, topped off with inexplicable indentations in the dirt. Of course something happened!”

“Could have been some little foals,” said Jam as he walked over to him, “maybe just playing around in the dirt. My brother does it all the time.”

“Shhhh!” said Commodore as he looked down at the road. “There might be something I’m missing. Be quiet a sec.” He stooped his head down and slowly trotted around the area, inspecting every spec of dirt that looked significant.

Moving away from his detective buddy, Jam haphazardly walked around the crime scene occasionally looking over at Commodore as he searched. Pushing his hoof through his curly brown mane, he looked up at the sky, trying to determine the time of day.

Looking back down at the ground, he continued to slump about, not paying attention to where he was going.

“Are you almost done?” yelled Jam from across the roadway.

“Almost, I think this branch may have some hoof prints on it.”

Face hoofing; Jam took another step forward, as something important crossed his eye. Stopping, he tilted his head to the left, just to make sure he’d seen what he thought he’d just seen.

“H-Hey, Commodore,” he called, a bit nervous, “I think I found something.”

“What-what-what?!?” he yelled as he bolted over. “Is it a hoof print, a weapon, magic scorch marks?”

“No,” said Jam as he reached down and picked up the item with a shaking hoof, “it’s just this.”

Staring at it for a second, Commodore wheeled back in horror as he realized what the item was.

“Jam…is that what I think it is?”

“Y-Yes, I think it is.”

In Jam’s hoof, suspended just by just its tip, was stray green piece of cloth, thick with dried blood and stained by dirt. It looked exactly like a fragment of Alistair’s shirt.