The Dance
The Dance
The first time we danced, she broke my jaw in three places.
I regained consciousness in a small native hospital, attended by several of the local healers who barely spoke a few words of Equestrian between them. It didn’t matter to me; from the wires and cast that encased my mouth, I could do little more than make a few grunting noises and eat a constant diet of pudding. To this day, I still loathe the dreadful substance, but every few weeks I make it a point to choke down a bowl in memory of what else happened to me.
I fell in love.
There was nothing to do in the little hospital other than look out the window at the steaming jungle and wonder just what had happened to my boss, the Dread Ahuizotl. That, and leaf through the small collection of books in their library. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the tattered and worn cover of Daring Do and the Sapphire Stone tossed in with the sappy romance novels and travelogues touting the scenic beauty of the Amarezon river basin. Those magenta eyes drawn into glaring slits, that golden coat with a compass rose as a cutie mark, and those flashing hooves, the exact same ones I had last seen exploding into my face in a double-buck worthy of an earth pony. I considered flinging it out the window and into the soggy jungle to rot, but since I had nothing to do while my bones knit, I settled down to read instead.
Many hours later, under the light of a flickering firefly lantern, my heart changed. The passion on the pages turned my hatred into something else, a flickering fire in my soul that could only be fed by her presence, no matter how much pain I had to endure. The moment I was fit for travel, I departed for the destination of the Amarezon river basin where I had first met my employer. From his reactions, he had not expected me to live or return to his service, but bad help being hard to find, he welcomed me back into employment and docked my pay for my time in the hospital. It was only then that I realized the true change in my heart. I had not set the hospital on fire as I left, as any proper villain would have, but instead actually paid my bill. Of course I did not tell Ahuizotl of my lapse in proper villain technique, because lying is also part of the job description, but it bothered me enough that I visited the local library and checked out every Daring Do book they had.
It was opposition research, or so I justified it to myself.
The life of a disposable minion is filled with weeks of inactivity spotted with short moments of frantic action, most often the kind that involves physical violence. A few of us actually exercised at the local bar, breaking noses and bottles indiscriminately throughout the night, but I kept my former entertainments at bay while I devoured the book series. It was fascinating to see how she worked, the intricate ins and outs of a proactive archaeologist, or looter as she would have been called if she worked for my boss. I studied her techniques in both fighting and writing only to find a certain attraction between both styles that appealed to my base nature. The archaeologist was brash, daring as her namesake and just as destructive while the writer who put her actions into print had a certain aggressiveness to her writing that smashed the words onto paper with the same vigor as Daring had displayed on my jaw.
I took my leisure time between jobs to hone my fighting skills, with the excuse that I did not want to be caught unaware by that ‘upstart pegasus’ ever again, while I spent much of my nights pouring over historical documents detailing possible future encounters. I wanted to be ready this time, and when the time arrived, I was.
This time she broke one of my legs, three ribs, and fractured my skull.
While recuperating in the same little native hospital, I found a new book in their tiny library. It was a mass-market paperback version of her latest novel, and as I read through it, I made an amazing discovery that shocked me to the bottoms of my hooves.
She mentioned me.
Page 178, third paragraph. “Daring Do lashed out with her hind hooves at the thug gripping her tail, feeling his jaw break as she darted forward towards the treasure.”
It was more than a little disconcerting. I tore the page out and hid it in my belongings despite the displeasure of the hospital staff, although they did calm down when I showed them the book of matches.
Our relationship continued in that same way, through our travels in Llamagrad (fractured hoof, split lip, lost tooth) to Alpacastan (multiple abrasions, contusions, and a concussion), and even in the basement of the Gnu York State Library (two fractured hooves, loss of half of my mane, and an overdue book fine). Ahuizotl seemed pleased with the improvement in my fighting skills even to the point of calling me by my actual name a few times instead of “Hey you” or “Disposable Minion #3” like usual. The death traps grew more complex with every adventure, from simple pit traps filled with scorpions and filling with hot sand, to a complex whirling blade and arrow projecting corridor which I helped design that actually clipped a lock out of her tail while she tumbled and darted through the razor-sharp blades.
I kept it, of course.
Our encounters grew longer, not restricted to a simple blow to the head as in the past, but turning into longer exchanges of blows and bites with snappy repartee amidst the tumbles and last-minute escapes. Words always failed me in her presence except for twice.
The first time was at a book signing for A.K. Yearling in Manehattan, where we were staking out a museum for some golden trinket that would destroy the world or such. Even disposable minions need time off from the tedious job of staring at an unoccupied building, and I had just purchased… well, stolen a copy of the latest Daring Do novel, and had a few hours to myself when I noticed the sign.
For a limited time, author A.K. Yearling will be signing her Daring Do series of books at this location. First come, first serve. 20 bits admission, proceeds will be given to the Manehattan Orphanage.
It piqued my interest, which was strange, because I had never been piqued before I had started to read her books. Life in the Manehattan Orphanage had been simple, a few smaller children to rough up before lunch, an afternoon spent lazing on a street corner, and although I never wanted to return to the joyous place of my foalhood, the twenty bits would help other young and misguided youths to avoid career paths much worse than mine. After all, without the streets, they might turn to a life of politics, and that would be just terrible. Besides, there was always the possibility of making off with the proceeds for myself.
So I found myself in line with a multitude of other ponies, lamenting the heavy security on the bit bucket into which my hard-stolen twenty bits had vanished. It was boring, but at least I was able to hoof through the book while waiting, even if I was not able to force my way to the front of the line due to the number of police in the area. The story had so captured my attention that when I reached the front of the line, I nearly stumbled while hoofing the book over to the author with a short, “Can you make it out to—”
It was her. Those magenta eyes, crinkled up with fatigue but still with a sparkle in them that froze my tongue to the top of my mouth, and those hard hooves which I knew so intimately wrapped around a simple golden pen. She paused, looking at me through her red glasses as if I were just another one of the thousands of ponies she had signed books for, which I was. A simple shout could have brought over a dozen police officers, but instead she just put pen to book, writing a few brief words before hoofing it back over to me and calling out, “Next”
My gait was unsteady as I stumbled out into the street, holding the book as if it were a golden statue. The author and the subject were the same, and yet with all the times she had placed a hoof upside my face, she had not recognized me in the crowd. My ego was crushed, or at least until I opened the book and found something that shook me to my hooves.
She had written my name.
And when we broke into the museum to steal whatever golden trinket my boss wanted this week, she broke my nose, my shoulder, and twisted my tail into a knot.
The second time I spoke to her was on a mission in darkest Zebrica, while in the respectably large town of Dhahabu Farasi. All of us minions were entertaining ourselves while the boss did something suitably mysterious and arcane in the temple nearby. The music was loud, the salt terrible, and aromatic smoke from the torches made the inside of the bar a place you could never properly see in a big civilized city before a health inspector would shut it down, probably throwing in a match once the place had been evacuated.
I was sucking down my third or fourth salt when the seat next to me was suddenly filled by a zebra mare, dropping into place with a homespun cloth cloak across her back. There was something suspiciously familiar about her, and it took several blinks of my salt-fogged eyes to figure it out.
Her stripes were paint. And it was still damp.
“Can’t a filly get something to lick around here?” She leaned towards me and fluttered her eyes, the violet paint under them flaking off to reveal her beautiful golden coat in small spots. Her disguise was so blatantly obvious that I almost blurted out her name, turning it instead into a request from the bartender for two large rock salts, hold the gravel. We actually talked for a while as she wheedled out information about where Ahuizotl was and what he was up to this time. I wanted to tell her about how I had been carefully changing his traps to be less lethal, weakening links of chain and manacles. There were too many ears in that bar that would have heard, but somehow I think she knew. She leaned in close as I bragged about my job, gasping in feigned fear as I talked about that tricky mare who had evaded every attempt by my boss to capture and do away with her.
We even danced once for real, as a strident tango blared out of the jukebox and she dragged me onto the dance floor with a rose between her teeth. For long minutes there was nothing in the room but the two of us, striding back and forth along the floor as the rest of the bar patrons dove for cover. The music dipped and swirled, dragging us along in its embrace throughout the smoky bar as our passion blazed out in our hoofsteps with such intensity I feared we would actually set something on fire other than our hearts. She spun in my hooves as we danced, our sweat melting her body paint until we both resembled the natives in smeared streaks of white and black.
And then she was gone, with only a damp kiss on my cheek to remember her by.
Well, that and the loose tooth from where she hit me in the exact same spot less than an hour later.
She will always be just out of my reach, a precious modern artifact that I shall never possess, just like Ahuizotl shall never gain what he seeks, but shall never quit trying. We are bound somehow in a dance of our own, rubble and ruins our dance floor and ancient history our music, dancing to a tune none other can hear. Perhaps someday the music will end for us, and we shall drift apart as our jobs take us to opposite corners of the known world.
If so, I intend on enjoying this dance as long as it lasts. Let us mix in Mareocco, tango in Tangerieneirs, do the foxtrot in Faux de Cheval and the waltz in Whinnyhaha.
The boss says we’re going to Paris, Prance next week.
I’m looking forward to our next dance.
Love,
Disposable Minion #3
P.S. I’ll bring the flowers if you bring the wine.
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Face it, there has to be some reason those thugs work for Ahuizotl. It certainly isn't the pay, the hours, or the benefits package.
For wonderful cartoons on this concept, visit Evil Inc. by Brad Guigar
By special request, I will someday make a second chapter or story titled, "Isle of View" detailing what happens when Daring escapes in a lifeboat from a burning zepplin and crash lands on a deserted island. Well, almost deserted.
Also check out I Daring Do by Sarcasmo, where Ahuizotl and Daring find themselves engaged. Or something very close.
Also, the reading by Luvlessi:
Awww, that's sweet.
So if his name actually disposable minion #3, that might actually fit into equestrian naming convention and would make the signed book interesting as well.
'Now son you really should get into the minion business, its a good stable field, as long as there are hero's someone will need disposable minions'
I really like this story. I usually don't read short stories, but I made an exception because it sounded interesting. In the end it is a great story that I really like. I tip my scouting device to you sir.
Nice little romance :)
Maybe there'll be more...
Must continue this story. U hAVE TO
Poor number 3. Destined to be beaten up for all eternity.
Definitely adding this to my favorites~!
D'awwwwww! Sweeeet new chapter perhaps?
Gasp! What is this feeling!? Gas? no... It's... Its...
INSPIRATION!
3593803
I don't know, with a mouth like that, he can certainly appreciate a good dental plan.
In any case, I loved this. The story, the mental image of Ahuizotl shouting, "Disposable Minion #3, destroy her!", and the idea that Daring Do's disguises are so terrible that ponies go along with them out of sheer embarrassment. Or, in this case, injurious attraction. (Like fatal attraction, but you can walk away from it.)
A wonderful tale of unrequited(?) love. Thank you for it.
Wonderful short story. I hope to see more like this from you.
And the spoon story. I really want the spoon story.
The shift in the last few lines from addressing the audience to addressing her directly is extremely disorienting, but other than that, this is a wonderful little story worthy of its insta-feature. I love the place names.
3594904
Not unrequited in the slightest. She clearly knows what's going on. She knows his name, after all. That actual dance in the bar also reads as very deliberate, and note that afterward her kick merely loosens his tooth rather than sending him to the hospital.
I think she's seeing some sort of need in Minion to silently want her from across the battlefield, and responding in kind. And frankly, I get the sense that if either of them tried setting that aside and just approaching each other directly, it would snuff out the spark.
Aw! That was cute and well written!
NICE.
Why say it with flowers when you can say it with debilitating injuries? They last longer and you don't have to leave them behind when you go out. You don't even have to water them, but you should do that anyway. Not bathing might kill a relationship pretty quick.
This was incredibly sweet, in a stalker-ish kind of way. Amazing.
3595560 I second this comment.
I was so sad when I saw the complete tag after reading this
There needs to be some kind of… I don't know… SUPER FAVORITE option or something. I favorite a lot of things, sometimes just to track, sometimes because I just liked it.
But sometimes you get stories like this. I can only upvote once! The favorites category is far from exclusive! But what more can I do to show that this I by far one of my favorite stories on the site?
Get published, Georg. I need to vote with my dollars.
How sweet...
Though, I wouldn't want something like this to happen to me in real life.
I rather have my jaw upright and ribs still intact, thank you very much.
3595697
That is why we used to have "Favourite" and "Track List", and "Read Later" didn't exist. I miss the Track option D:
Very enjoyable read! I hope for a sequel.
That was definitely a painful crush, poor Disposable Minion #3. He likely has a name in my opinion, but Daring would only know him by his title. Either that or he has just gave up on his real name and adopted his title as his actual name.
Well, this was fun. However, I noticed quite a few runon sentences throughout your narrative.
I.BUCKING.LOVE.THIS.
Im imagining Disposable Minion #3 as female for some reason. On checking i couldnt find any place were his/her gender is actually spelled out. Have i missed something or is it open?
EDIT: Aww, found one, in the book passage hes given as male. Damn.
I want him to get the girl so bad. That was excellent!
3597377 What's wrong with male?
Awesome!
Bravo, sir! Bravo! Fantastic story.
3597793
Nothing wrong per see, i just imagined female for some reason. May just be the Yuri-shipping-googles though.
And i guess i liked the idea of it being unclear.
Well, old friend, you've done it again. Nicely written, completely breathtaking. Loved the idea of this unknown stallion falling for the mare who's thrashed him repeatedly. I also enjoy how it is implied that Daring knows exactly who this "Disposable Minion" is, and even seems to regret that they always meet on the other side of things. As always, this is a suburb work of art.
3598090 I don't like yuri shipping.
I'd like to see more like this!
Absolutely wonderful!
Pleeeeeeeeeeease continue this story! This might be the only romance fic I've ever liked!
You can't this story without epic narration. You. Can't. It's too boss for reading it in your head. It DESERVES recognition.
Now, If only my colleagues would stop staring at me when I read pony stories out loud.
Gotta say, unrequited love does suck, but it's probably less hazardous to one's health.
I love this. Simply stellar and fantastically composed. Well done.
WHO DISLIKED THIS???!!?!??!? THEY SHALL DIE A PAINFUL DEATH!!!!!!!!!
Yeah, this needs to be continued.
This is the kind of story that we all want to have a sequel, but if such a sequel were to be written it might "ruin" this story.
... Maybe a sequel in which Disposable Minion switches sides when it becomes clear that Daring is going to die unless he does so? Like, he finally defeats Daring Do in a one on one fight and Ahuizotl decides to kill her on the spot or something like that. He could have an heroic death afterwards and make all of us go baaaaaw
This is probably my favorite part in this whole story. It's a gorgeous blend of cliches, and I'm fairly certain completely unique.
The whole story is cute and clever, way to go!
Though some visuals would've been nice...
I...just...damn...bravo mate.
3602698 "I kept it, of course": My fav line too. This is a charming and bizarre love crackfic.
LOL
Love this story! The romance is incredibly well done and I hope you post more to this story!
Mook + crush on the hero = elite mook.
Hmm, how oddly paradoxical, yet it explains so much...
Now this is a crack-ship. Oh my yes. Wait till, Rainbow finds out.
This is such a clever idea, and not at all what I expected. I absolutely adore the execution of the wistful yet breathless tone of his writing. Between that and the descriptions of their relationship's progression, I was grinning and laughing throughout. Instant favourite, no question!
I want to see disposable minion rise up the ranks of minionhood as he strives for Daring's attention. From fodder to determined fodder to effective fodder to resiliant fodder and onwards and upwards.
And as this happens he becomes amore prominent character in the books and begins to catch Daring's eye.
I would love to see this continued as well. This was excellent. I also love the background music you chose. Fits like a glove!
At first I thought you should have added a comedy tag on the story, because I found it hilarious, but then after the book signing scene I found it sweet, and after the bar scene I loved it.
That was a brilliant story. The way you brought me from laughter, to a sappy smile, in just about 2000 words, was amazingly well done. Stories like this is what makes short stories worth reading.
Thank you.
D'aaaaaaaww! That was adorable!