5: Deslliurament
He lay dead on the ground.
He had lived his life with his loyalties emblazoned over his heart, but Lucca’s bullet had ripped through it all the same, leaving behind a vortex-like chasm surrounded by dark streaks.
For Domenico’ sake he had been sacrificed. It may not have been his destiny, but there were few regrets to be had. A better man had been lost that night in Raimondo; surely, his death was nothing worth mourning in comparison.
“Son of a bitch,” Giovanni said, reaching down to pick up the barely intact stress ball. “I can’t believe I was saved by this stupid fucking thing.”
Lifting Quarteroy up to eye level, he could see the knick-knack had a clean hole blown through its chest, right where Guardian Financial’s logo had been. The Mafioso had brought the tacky thing along as a reminder of the bone-chilling evening they had spent together, and truthfully, he had forgotten it was even there.
At first, this was met with a disbelieving relief at dodging death, but it was soon replaced by sheer annoyance. For all of his stratagems, contingency plans, stashed weapons, escape routes and gathering of intel, he had to be bailed out by a pig. Nothing meaningful like a bible or a cherished memento—a pig.
As he contemplated the absurdity of it all, he felt his hastily bandaged wound over. With reluctance he decided to move onto more proactive thoughts.
The bullet’s probably still in there. I’d have bled out a while back otherwise. But there could still be infection, but—No, this is more important. I need to make something of what little opportunity I was given. My crude dressing will have to hold for now.
He pulled angrily on his mustache, nervously winding its left side around his middle finger. Domenico’s plan was perfect, and I did everything I could, but we should have... done… something?
Fuck, who am I kidding? With their capabilities, that American kid was our best shot regardless. Even if we had to resort to plan B and let them gas him like we thought they would, it could have told us something, anything about how to beat those monsters in human skin.
The mafioso cringed, thinking back on the soulless eyes of Lucca’s entourage as they threw their lives away. He felt a cutting chill at the thought of his fallen comrades twisted into abominations like Lucca.
Diego, Boss, Domenico, I pray, for your own sakes that death is all you had to suffer through.
He staggered, steadying himself against the rail of the ferry as the waves rocked the old passenger vessel. Raw emotion swelled up as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a notepad. Raimondo had taken it everywhere with him; ready at a moment’s notice, it would be used to record his jokes whenever and wherever inspiration struck.
Raimondo, I’m sorry, man. We got you killed.
Boss, Domenico, I failed you both. As much as I’d love to sucker myself into believing that you won that fight, I don’t need to see the bodies to know what happened, especially when the enemy doesn’t stay dead.
“Come on Giovi,” Raimondo chided, pulling in a few chips, “don’t be such a pessimist. Caution is nice, but don’t rush to fold when you can stick around for cheap. Often, the next card can change everything,” he said, revealing a missed flush for Giovanni.
He shook his head at the memory. No, we lost. I have to assume the whole organization’s compromised.
A man approached with an unnatural gait. The former hitman adjusted the oversized sunhat over his face and straightened his sunglasses before reaching for his concealed weapon just in case. However, the tension instantly evaporated when he noticed the barely visible brace under the man’s shorts.
My lone advantage is that they think I’m dead. I don’t know why fortune chose me, but rest assured, Raimondo, I’m not about to fold just yet.
Blending in with a gaggle of obvious tourists, he disembarked the ferry, surreptitiously striding down to the boarding platform.
If I have the intel, someone else can bring the cavalry.
And I’ll be riding with them; after all…
Giovanni squeezed down hard on Quarteroy, splitting the knickknack in two.
Now it’s personal.
“Fuck this book!” Xavier said, stabbing the worn book’s spine with his horn to turn the tome invisible once more.”
After much internal debate, he had swallowed his dignity to read the chapter on estrus, hoping for any way to mitigate the constant symptoms. He hadn’t been expecting much, but when it had the gall to say “be considerate of the stallion,” he had completely lost it. He had become a horny female pony thanks to their damned harem gender ratio, and it had the gall to say “be considerate of the stallion!?”
Oh yes, the poor stallion! It must be so hard, having all your bitches beg you to fuck them at once!
However, the newly-minted mare only had a few seconds to be angry before being reminded once more that it was still day two of the heat, the worst according to the book. Xavier had spent most of the day alternating between stewing angrily in his own juices and reading Heartbound’s insipid guide. It was a sadistic choice between wrestling with lewd, longing thoughts with no outlet and being told said experience was a time to be closer with your special ponies.
The hours dragged on like this, his captors only appearing to occasionally to give him water, to pour a bowl of oats, or to take him outside to use the bathroom—while humiliating in its own right, at least they gave him that much. Perhaps they were avoiding him, but it was certainly preferable to being constantly observed in this state.
Days passed in limbo. Rotting in a stall alone with nothing but the full reality of his new form in front of him, Xavier began to wonder if he would lose himself like this. With eating now the high point of his day, he was nearly broken enough to view the prospect of a new master as a spot of hope. At least they might let him have some space.
Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. He was himself again.
He was filthy, alone, and sore all over; but he could think clearly again. It was as if an incredible weight was lifted from him. Sure, he was bored, but by comparison, it was like he was once again living in the post-marital bliss he had longed to recapture for so many years. However, relative happiness only went so far.
Dolors, Sara, Hector. They probably will never know what happened to me. Will they even care? Even though I worked tirelessly to give them what they deserved, it wasn’t enough, apparently, and they tossed me aside to be an animal in chains.
He sighed.
No, it’s not their fault… I could have done more…. but… well, I suppose I should go back to the book. It’s not gonna get me outta here, but maybe I haven’t read the part that explains what’s happening to me and whose skull I need to smash in to make it stop.
He attempted to entertain himself with that image, channeling all his pent-up rage and unleashing it on a faceless figure. To his dismay, he felt only hollowness and a patch of guilt at the revenge fantasy. He clicked his teeth, annoyed, and opened the book written by the pony who was now, regretfully, his best friend by default.
About This Book:
For your privacy this book has been enchanted with a rudimentary invisibility charm. While honesty is a tenet of harmony, and I would encourage openness to nurture trust in any type of relationship, I realize there may be a stigma associated with reading this book, especially for any stallions out there; and even the mares may want to avoid implying that their herd isn’t a happy one. Just place your magic focus on the spine to avoid any misunderstandings. However, I still highly encourage you to open a dialogue with your special ponies about what you learn here, and I have dedicated a later section to this topic.
He could hardly believe how casually she mentioned the book's most interesting feature. She was describing a magical enchantment unlike anything Xavier had even seen, yet she treated the matter as if she was stating her choice of font before transitioning into another lecture.
You have time to describe all sixteen of your little bloodsuckers, but nothing on the magical abilities unicorns are supposed to have. What would I do without you, Heartbound?
Xavier flipped through the book for something he hadn’t read already.
Your Herd and Nursing: Mother-Foal Bonding Time or a Herd Endeavor
Hell no.
Your Herd and Discipline
Xavier snorted. What’ll Mrs. Better-Parent-Than-You do? Take away their goodnight kisses? Limit them to just eight cookies a day? Hell, the way she describes it, I wouldn’t be surprised if sugar is a food group to these damn ponies.
Part of him was surprised she even had a section on one of the more difficult part of parenting, seeing how she went on excessively about how her foals are the greatest things in her life.
Xavier felt a pang of longing and recoiled upon realizing the hypocrisy.
Well mine aren’t fucking hairballs!
Corporeal punishment is currently frowned upon in more developed regions but remains customary in some traditional earth pony and pegasus families. I won’t deny your right to spank your own foals, but keep in mind that most research points to it doing more harm than good.
Typical women: “I don’t want to start an argument, but keep this clearly argumentative point in mind.”
However, I must strongly caution against the use of unicorn magic for this purpose. While, you may think it won’t happen to you, dozens of foals are injured annually by an angered parent’s magic surging out of control. While you may use a basic momentum spell for something as mundane as knocking on a door or pushing a filly on a swing, even something so simple can be potent on the battlefield when mixed with aggression and the desire to hurt.
To Xavier’s dismay, the half-page section ended to start a much more detailed outline on how to make effective use of time-outs.
No, dammit! Don’t stop! Tell me more about magic! I’m the one who needs it to get out of time-out!
The unicorn took the pages in his mouth and skimmed the rest of the chapter, finding not a word more on magic. Although he was grateful that he could read about foal care without his body constantly chiming in its willingness to participate, the counselor’s writing was only sufferable in small doses.
Figures. No mention on how to actually perform magic, just that it’s obvious. That only leaves me with that contraceptive spell from earlier, which I’m definitely NOT touching.
Fuck magic! Why am I looking to magic when it got me into this mess! Scientific explanation my ass! People don’t turn into unicorns on their own. This piece of shit book proves it. If someone wanted to be helpful by putting this book in the mail slot—which I am positive wasn’t there earlier— they would have sent me something like Pony Jailbreak for Dummies instead. This on the other hand is clearly an insult that I’ve HAD ENOUGH OF!
He kicked the vanished book away. Not a second later, the stable door flung open and the group’s apparent leader waltzed through. He came up the aisle, sparing the maroon unicorn only a brief glance before stepping into a stall on the other side. He lazily swept the interior a few times with a broom and then set up its water supply. Satisfied, he returned to the front to greet the asshole with the tobacco. After a brief exchange in Basque, the bulky teen stepped outside, returning a few seconds later with a flailing cyan unicorn.
Xavier’s eyes widened, and he watched in fascination as the ponynappers looked over the new mare.
Another one? I didn’t think I was the only one, but still… Thank god it’s not a stallion…
At first Xavier suffered a strange patch of happiness as the mare was held above him. He could practically feel a rush of endorphins at the idea of social contact with a fellow pony. He wanted to talk with her, he wanted to feel her, he wanted to be close to her.
He mentally nodded his agreement at the pleasant prospect of company but froze upon realizing what was happening.
No, this is another trick! This body wants me to make friends with the pretty young mare, so we can make a herd. We get close, and then the next thing I know, she offers both of us to some alpha stallion, and I’m stuck nursing her foals for her! Well I’m not falling for it! We’re stuck here either way, so I can do without pony bonding time. No thank you, Heartbound.
Xavier quickly curled up into a miserable-looking position, just in time for the boy and the pony to approach his stall.
“This here’s your new friend. Be sure to get along now.”
And here I thought he was mute, Xavier thought. Well, he’s still the least condescending of the bunch.
With his eyes closed and his head down, he more words he couldn’t understand and then the sound of duct tape. After a minute, of tense silence, the leader shouted at him.
“Hey, pony, get over here!”
He gestured for Xavier to approach him, apparently to tape up his horn so one of them didn’t put out the other’s eye by mistake.
Fuck off, he thought, rolling onto his side.
“I mean now!”
He softened his voice and tried again.
“Cooperate and this will move along smoothly for all of us. Please.”
Xavier continued to feign sleep in defiance.The man’s response was a chucked beer can straight at the pony’s head. It hit the base of his horn directly, turning what would normally be a minor annoyance into a painful blow.
This lit a fuse in the unicorn, who righted himself and prepared to attack. As the lower part of his horn throbbed, he could feel a flimsy mental link to a nexus of power as symptoms of a headache poured in alongside a faint energy.
Aggression and desire to hurt huh? I’m sure as hell pissed enough! Let’s see if this horn is good for anything!
He gritted his teeth and directed his overflowing hate towards his attacker...
The energy built unevenly behind his horn, only for a lame puff of energy to escape in an orange spark before the entire pathway closed itself to him.
His target, meanwhile, hadn’t noticed a thing and gestured lazily towards himself before becoming impatient and reaching into the stall for the end of the rope.
“Get the fuck away from me you inbred, Basque piece of shit,” Xavier said, trying as best he could to inject intimidation into his unnaturally high voice. “Forget Catalonia: I’d rather have you terrorist motherfuckers out of our country.”
Xavier expected a snide comment from the stoic leader at best, but when he looked the man in the eye, he saw a look of outrage. This was his only warning before suffocating force gripped him. The man taped his horn over so many times that Xavier practically felt a claustrophobic sensation from its entombment. Finally, the head rustler tightly gagged him once more and stormed off. After a pause that lasted an eternity, the boy set the second pony down beside the first and chased after his comrade.
Xavier attempted to sink into the ground once more, only briefly recognizing the arrival of an entirely average cow into the stall across from them. He said nothing, trying to keep his breathing steady while doing his best to play dead. However, the minutes dragged on, and curiosity soon got the better of him.
He snuck a glance at the other mare. She currently had her head down to examine the knots of her gag, so he then examined her more carefully: Her long, blue mane had a flowing quality and a natural tuft to it that mimicked a gentle wave, parted by a long, slender horn. Her barrel was covered in thick, cyan fur and had a slight plumpness to it that suggested good health. the well-toned muscles in her calves that accentuated her hips perfectly.
Before he could think on it further, however, she started to lift her head once more, so he once more laid his head down to feign disinterest. She must have seen him, though, as she stepped in front of him and lifted her hooves towards her gagged muzzle.
He shook his head.
It’s not worth it. Being able to breathe free is one of the few privileges we have here; they’ll take it off if we’re good. Trust me: we have nothing to talk about anyway. This stall must be the only sturdy thing in here, and Heartbound’s no help, so just get away from me before this body decides you’re my special pony or something.
To communicate his thoughts in the only way he could, he walked across the cell in a few short paces and lay back down.
She seemed to take the hint.
Xavier lost track of time as he lay there awkwardly. He felt ridiculous at shying away from her like a schoolboy with a crush, but exhaustion won out, as he drifted and out of sleep.
Eventually, the most verbally abusive of the group returned—the stench of tobacco gave him away from across the stable—and removed their gags.
The cyan mare immediately started yelling: “Why are you doing this to us!? We’re not animals! We’re human beings and we have rights. My father knows I'm missing, and when he—”
He forced her mouth shut and shushed her.
“Shut up. Both of you,” the man said, glaring at his first catch, who started to weigh the brief outburst in his head. The captor then walked off.
A Brit, huh? Sounds spoiled too. That attitude’s useless here. When you’re a stupid-looking horned horse, trash like them can lord over, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Yep, we’re horses now—mares. Tiny, goddamn mares—egüetxes.
“Hello. Um… Miss Unicorn?”
No, go away. Don’t make me use this voice again, Xavier thought, hoping against hope she would leave him in peace.
“I… I uh… really like your mane. The colors are really pretty.”
I love my home as much as anyone, but for Christ’s sake, that doesn’t mean I want a flag dyed into my hair; it’s ridiculous.
Undeterred, she looked to the ground with a tense look, as if attempting to gather courage, before trying once more: “Hola, Señorita Unicorna. Me llamo es Lynne y no sé dondé soy. ¿Tú sabes?”
Xavier briefly flinched at being called miss before gagging on her butchered Castilian.
“What the hell was that?” he finally said, after deciding to respond in English.
Lynne stepped back at the rebuke. “I’m sorry. I thought you didn’t speak English. I learned some Spanish words from a friend back at university, so I just thought I’d try to speak to you in your own language.”
“Castilian is not my language!”
She calls me ‘tú’ as if we’re equals when I’m old enough to be her dad, and then she lumps all of Spain together like every other damn foreigner.
Lynne looked hurt. Hopefully she would give up this time.
“I’m sorry, miss, I had just thought you were like me. This may be hard to believe, but I used to be a normal human girl like them—well, not like them. I wasn’t mean like them. I get it if you don’t trust me for that reason, but if we work together, I can help you get home to Equestria."
“You think I used to be like this? You think you turn into a unicorn and get captured and end up next to a different unicorn from another world and they speak Castilian and English by chance? That’s just stupid.”
She was clearly perturbed. “Well, you can understand their… Castilian? Right? You know what they’ve been saying? What they’re planning?” she asked.
And now she says I’m the same as those Basque cocksuckers locking us up...
“You confuse Basque for Castilian? They are nothing alike. Do you know nothing of nothing?”
“But do you understand it?”
“The devil himself can’t learn it. What makes you think that I can? You think that I can understand it with this magic horn? If this damned thing worked, do you think I'd still be here?”
She huffed. “Look: we’re in a similar position, and I thought we could work together to escape. I tried to be patient, but then you had to be a complete bitch about everything.” Lynne said, her voice cracking. "Let me know when you've adjusted your attitude."
Her terminating the discussion had been exactly what the bartender had wanted, so why was feeling hurt?
I got chewed out by someone who’s probably half my age. Yeah, she would have a real good laugh if the unicorn with the pretty mane was a divorced man with a daughter her age; that’s the last thing I need right now.
Being in the proper position already, he tried to fall asleep again, but his mind was still racing. He tossed, turned and even tried using his book as a makeshift pillow as best he could, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t extricate the bitter end of the conversation from his head.
Well, maybe I could have been nicer about it; she’s just a girl.
He shook his head quickly, flopping his colorful mane back and forth.
But it’s done now... So why can’t I stop thinking about it? Xavier stomped with a single forehoof. It’s this damned female body! It’s messing with my emotions.
Satisfied with his deduction, he felt for the despised, invisible book once more. He had learned on the second night of his stay that it was possible to read by moonlight for about an hour, ninety minutes or so after sunset due to a hole in the roof. He then paused, the prospect of embarrassment dissuading him from uncloaking the wishy-washy guide to pony mating.
He glanced over at Lynne, who was asleep on top of what looked like a thick magazine.
Now something’s shown up in here for her too... Can this make any less sense? Well, she has the right idea. Not like there’s anything else to do in here. But wait, what if she wakes up? Come to think of it, it would be risky to broadcast the idea of polygamy to her. Who knows what ideas that body is planting in her mind.
The maroon pony scrunched up his muzzle in thought.
Then again, even if she does see it, she won’t even be able to read Catalan. Hell, I doubt she even knows the language exists.
Pleased with the inherent safeguard, the maroon unicorn opened the beat-up book in search of the smallest hint of magic—even if that meant combing through Heartbound’s sex tips.For the sake of thoroughness, of course.
Floored by its size, Giovanni approached the massive estate. He knew of its reputation and even of its three square kilometer area, but seeing it in person was simply awe-inspiring.
A refurbished road built by the ancient Romans led up to the classically styled gates, which seemed to be chiseled out of a single piece of marble. The front gate kept with this theme, and a statue of the huntress Diana towered over the carefully maintained external garden.
There’s rich, and then there’s this. To be able to afford something like this… in Rome no less.
He took a deep breath. Okay, he’s a man like any other. If he’s been compromised, we’re probably already lost. Nothing to lose here.
Exploiting that burst of optimism, he pushed the intercom button.
“Welcome. Please state your name and business here,” a female voice said with friendly professionalism.
“Giovanni Colvi to see Luigi Colvi; he knows I’m coming.”
“One moment please.”
He could hear the gate mechanism grinding as the iron bars before him slowly lifted, creating an entrance wide and tall enough to accommodate anything short of a small commercial aircraft.
A full ninety seconds of silence was allotted to allow the visitor to bask in the even more impressive interior of the estate. Greenery from every corner of the globe was arranged in perfectly symmetry about the three smooth cobblestone roads leading inside. Exotic birds could be heard chirping, and an impeccably pure artificial lake shone in the distance.
“Feel free to make use of the tram to proceed to the manor. The nearest station will be to your right,” the voice finally said.
Now he’s just showing off, Giovanni thought. Nevertheless, he indulged the owner and took the three minute walk to the tram for a slow ride through extravagance. He had been in similar estates as a matter of course, but this made the others look like movie sets on a budget in comparison; every direction offered a new type of fruit in bloom, vibrantly colored flowers or an enormous, centuries-old oak far too massive to have been transplanted.
After several minutes, the tram deposited him at the foot of a towering hill more than capable of accommodating what lay above—a three storey manor with the length of a football field. Whatever effort the gardeners had put into the greenery from before had been tripled around the house proper. The variety of trees and flowers were even greater, and they pointed along the stone path as it winded up to the residence.
The hitman snapped himself out of another session of involuntary gawking and started his journey to the mini acropolis. It was uncomfortably steep, giving him the impression that he was low enough priority to be spared the knowledge of the easy way up. His instincts told him this climb was far too inefficient to be the norm.
He ascended the first set of stairs with agility, only to take a reflexive step back upon nearly colliding with someone. After stifling a reflexive reach for where his gun would be, he prepared instead to fire up his best apologies. However his expression turned to a scowl as his eyes lit up with recognition.
Standing before him was a meticulously-groomed man in a modernized butler’s uniform. Every part of him from his suit to his skin seemed to shine. Not a hair was out of place on his head, and he sported the cleanest shave Giovanni had ever seen. Scrunching up his face, he gave the mafioso a perturbed look before straightening the olive handkerchief in his jacket pocket.
“Hello… brother,” Giovanni said sourly.
“Yes, nice to see you too, Giovi. Well if the impetus driving your pilgrimage is as pressing as you insist it be, I suggest we get going.”
The manservant turned on a dime and started on the climb back up.
“Wait,” Giovanni, said, closing the distance between them. “You were able to get me an appointment with the master?”
“Obviously. If I’d had it my way I’d have had you tossed out at the front gate. Hurry along now. He has little to waste time on the likes of you.”
Same old Luigi, he thought. It had taken him five calls on three different cell phones to get him to give his younger sibling the time of day, and even then, he had only gotten a particularly venomous maybe.
Giovanni followed Luigi in silence for the remainder of the ascent. When they reached the top, the butler habitually held the door open, but caught himself and quickly rushed inside for fear of actually showing courtesy to the criminal.
He can’t even hold a grudge correctly. I know what a real feud looks like, Luigi. This is just pettiness, he thought, pulling open the polished wooden door.
The interior of the mansion came as no surprise—artwork, gilded wallpaper, indoor fountains, servants, chandeliers, the usual. Fortunately, it was a short walk to their destination. This time, Luigi apparently had to keep up appearances and held the door open, gesturing him politely towards into the sitting room.
A fireplace, styled after Ming dynasty pottery, cast shadows about the room, while a man with silver, coiffed hair smoked a pipe from an antique rocking chair that sat beside it. After a solid minute of silence, he lazily motioned for Giovanni to sit across from him.
The man simply radiated power, his bare feet and black silk bathrobe managing to project confidence rather than vulnerability. His hardened, weathered face suggested he was in his seventies, having all the magnificence of age minus the weakness. Thick, bushy eyebrows sat atop a pair of unflinching gray eyes that scarcely blinked as he waited for his guest to make the first move.
After a tense thirty seconds, Giovanni finally dared speak: “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today, Senator d’Atlante.”
“I’m no senator anymore,” he said, only briefly meeting the supplicant’s gaze.
“Yes, well…”
“You can call me sir.”
“Yes, thank you for meeting me, sir,” Giovanni said, forcing the utmost formality out of himself. “I must acknowledge that while I bear news on an urgent matter that affects all of us. It may sound ridiculous at first, but I do possess some, albeit tangential, evidence, and I assure you I would not risk the reputation of Don Salicina and myself—“
“Just say what you’re gonna say, dammit. I said I’ll listen to you, so let me be the judge of whether you’re full of shit or not.”
His curtness dropped ice into Giovanni’s veins. Try as he might, he couldn’t get a read on the powerful man in front of him, who expectantly bobbed his pipe up and down with his teeth. Here was a man that could end him with a flick of his wrist. He wanted to approach this with utmost delicacy, yet that was apparently not to his taste.
Here goes nothing...
D’Atlante pored over the photo in front of him from every angle, patiently looking over the unicorn mare with a two-toned green coat and an electric blue mane standing beside an average-sized man. The pony was looking up nervously comparatively massive person, the shaking of her legs apparent in spite of the stillness of the photo.
“So you’re saying that any one of us can turn into one of these ponies without warning?”
“We think so...”
“And this up-and-coming cult can brainwash anyone they want?”
“Yes…”
“And all you have to corroborate this is a couple of easily faked photos and a few fast and loose conjectures?”
“No, it’s more than that,” Giovanni said pointing to a photo he had taken himself. “The ritual markings shown here on Moon Young’s entourage, the opponents of this forming cartel joining the cult, the speed at which this thing is spreading, Lucca coming back to life in front of my eyes—this can’t be—“
“Bullshit!” D’Atlante said, suddenly springing into a standing position. “You waste thirty minutes of MY time to tell me a story I could get from any teenage stoner dropout on the street?”
“It’s the truth… I—“
“Who the hell put you up to this? Who’s holding your leash here? This is a prank by that halfwit Conti, isn’t it? I know your group has worked with him in the past."
“But—“
“Frankly I don’t care!”
He took two steps forward towards Giovanni, with his shoulders high. “Son, I’d be on your knees if I were you. Wasting my time on this… idiocy!”
A sheer sense of dread fell over Giovanni, his last hope expired.
Fuck. It’s over. It was a big enough gamble to assume he hadn’t been compromised by those freaks. Not many know him as a secret lynchpin to most mainland crime; I thought he was truly my best shot. Well, I’ve got nothing now. Raimondo, it’s the least I can do to ride this one out to the end. It’s how you’d want it.
He swallowed hard.
“I will not back down. This is the truth as I see it, and no amount of intimidation will change that. It is absurd. I recognize that! But as I see it, the evidence points towards an overwhelming threat. Most importantly, this deduction comes from Don Salicina himself. Above all else, I’d bet my life on his word.”
The aristocrat seethed and closed the distance between them, looming over Giovanni and glaring directly into his eyes.
“You’d bet your life on this RUBBISH!?”
“I would,” Giovanni said with resigned finality, meeting d’Atlante’s gaze for the first time.
The former senator turned, and walked back towards his seat. “Very well, I believe you.”
Giovanni’s arms fell loosely to his sides. He could hear his heartbeat drumming on his ears as a ringing dampened all outside sound. He softly pressed a finger over his earlobe until it stopped.
“You heard it right: I believe you. I’ve had my own suspicions for a while, and what you’ve just told me fills in some gaps. I’ve been putting stock in the rumors surrounding this cult since some of my servants started acting strangely. Twice now I’ve caught someone trying to drug me or get to me in my sleep—good people from reputable families throwing that all away. It just fits.”
Okay, act natural. Don’t offend him at the last minute; there’s still a chance he’ll pull the rug out from under me.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Giovanni said, wiping away a large bead of sweat. “I’m very grateful you believe me, but it just doesn’t seem like enough.”
D’Atlante smirked. “Well, there is one other thing. Catarina, could you please come in here?”
The door opened for the first time in half an hour. A busty, blonde maid sporting the classic outfit entered, pushing a cart with various pots and cups. Giovanni swallowed anxiously as she approached the master of the house and poured him some coffee. As she bent down, he stared in spite of himself. She then did a slow twirl and turned her attention to Giovanni.
“Tea or coffee, sir?”
Giovanni blushed slightly and looked away. “C-coffee.”
“Coming right up,” she said, smiling.
“Thanks…”
The maid then pushed the cart out of the room, curtsied and closed the door behind her.
Inhaling the fumes coming his cup, Giovanni took a sip and then cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon. What did Catarina have to do with this matter?”
“Oh, you’ll.”
“What do you m—“
“HELLO!”
Giovanni convulsed in shock, nearly jumping out of his skin as an enormous set of icy blue eyes suddenly overtook his field of vision. He took several desperate breaths as an upside-down winged pony righted herself while laughing hysterically.
“HAHahah! Did you see him? He looked like he was having a seizure heehawhawhaw!” She hovered to the former senator’s side. “Thanks for leaving the window open, master. He didn’t hear me coming at all. Though with me, that’s to be expected.”
The mare sported a pale purple coat. Her flimsy looking wings of the same color somehow kept her casually floating a meter off the ground as her blue-striped white mane whipped back in forth to the beat of her wings.
“Catarina, please don’t scare my guests,” the former senator said, clearly struggling to keep a straight face as the giggling pony landed on his lap, front hooves hanging over the chair’s arm.
“I’m sorry, master. Can I make it up to you by letting you pet—ooooh that feels good! More please.”
What the hell is going on here?
A pony the size of a large dog was currently purring as she was stroked, her ears perked up and her tailed wagging happily behind her. She was clearly intelligent, yet the very next moment she was playing at being a pet. Even more unsettling was the man humoring her: Giorgi d’Atlante somehow kept up his aura of formidability even when stroking a fluffy pony.
Giovanni took a deep breath and gave up on formality. “All right,” he finally said, “can someone throw me a bone now?”
“Mr. Colvi, this is Catarina Araoka. We caught our would-be cat burglar here trying to put her hooves on certain things that did not belong to her.”
She giggled. “Don’t flatter yourselves, master. I’d love to see you try to pick a lock with your fingers hardening together. Another ten seconds and I’d be rocking the black market auction scene right now. And then maybe buy myself a nice island…”
“Wait,” Giovanni said, “Catarina Araoka? The Yellow Tabby Thief?”
“Hey, I never liked that name,” the pony said with a pout. “If you must use one of the racially insensitive ones, I’d prefer ‘The Yellow Flash.’ That way I can pretend I’m a ninja!”
D’Atlanta cut in, with a businesslike tone for the first time. “Getting back on topic, Miss Araoka can be very persuasive, and ultimately, I’ve agreed to let her apply her unique skillset to investigating the matter of the cultists. Considering your own familiarity with the matter and your own impressive C.V., I wish for you to work with her on this matter.”
Giovanni felt elation before realizing that a job offer heavily implied the demise of Sagrada Famiglia; nevertheless he made his eagerness heard: “Thank you. We’ll show them that the underworld is not theirs to take!”
“Yeah!” the pegasus cheered with far too much enthusiasm, filling the heavy silence left by d’Atlante’s ponderous nod of agreement.
“Then we’re all in agreement. Catarina, will you show Mr. Colvi to his room? I don’t have another spare servant’s chamber, so you’ll have to share with him.”
“But he’s a boy!” she whined.
“And you’re a pony!” Giovanni replied, annoyed. “Besides, you’re already naked anyway, so what does it matter?”
The purple mare floated herself up off their host’s lap and raised a hoof to object, but stroked her chin in thought instead. “You know, the beds are too big for me, and I have been wanting a cuddle buddy.”
“No.”
“Come on, Giovi, please!” She fluttered her eyelids.
“No, Catarina,” he said with exasperation.
“Please, call me Yuki!”
“Huh?”
“Yuki. Catarina's four syllables is far to many for a cute pony, so I shortened my real name. I think it fits me better now, don’t you think so, Giovanni?”
“Don’t change the subj—hey, wait! How do you know my name? Signore d’Atlante has only called me Mr. Colvi this entire time.
Yuki gave a very satisfied grin. “Well, it would be kind of silly to carry around a complete stranger’s driver’s license,” she said, giggling as she let a wallet unfold in front of him.
He felt for it, and sure enough, his wallet was missing. He took a second to gauge her movement before lunging at her, careful to avoid hitting anything expensive. Yuki easily dodged him and his follow-up attempts, while continuing to belt out high-pitched laughter.
“Catch me if you can,” she taunted, landing on all four hooves for the first time. “I’ll make it easy on you.”
Giovanni watched dumfounded as the mare galloped from the room, plowing through the double doors.
“She’s something isn’t she?” said d’Atlante.
“Yeah, something,” Giovanni said, preparing to sprint after her.
“A moment, Mr. Colvi?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep an eye on that one for me. She’s not to be trusted.”
Soon morning came, and Xavier drifted into consciousness to find himself feeling refreshed, and even comfortable. A soft blanket of contentment seemed to cover his small body to make the dreary situation look a bit brighter. He motioned to get up but felt a weight keeping him down.
Wait…
He opened his eyes to see his garishly colored tail barraged with strands of blue from every direction. Lynne was resting her head against his flank and was sleeping peacefully with her mane draped over the Catalan pony’s back.
I should be furious, he thought. She used me as a pillow without asking me and… I like it. We’re linked only by our unwanted change in species, and her presence is so comforting. What is this body doing to me?
He squinted in thought, torn on whether to throw her off of him on principle or to close his eyes once more and let her wake up first.
Then he remembered how young she was.
“Get off!” he said, shaking the cyan pony from him. “Don’t do that! It’s not right.”
She slid to the ground rudely awakened and pushed herself up to a more dignified position. At first, her eyes narrowed and her snout raised, suggesting another outburst, but instead she sighed and took a position of supplication.
“I’m terribly sorry I slept next to you without asking, but I’m still frankly… terrified of this whole ordeal. I thought that since we now have such soft fur, it would be nice and cozy for the both of us, and I was lonely, so...”
“Well, stop. We’re not ponies, and we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Yes, I don’t want to be like this either, but my mother always used to tell me to look for the silver lining in even the worst situations.”
What’s she saying now? Silver what? Doesn’t matter.
“I’m not giving this body anything! Something’s doing this to us! That magazine you have it’s proof. If we enjoy it, it wins!”
The other unicorn seemed taken aback, but nodded. “I’m upset too, but we can still look for the positives.”
“There’s nothing good about being a fucking pony!”
“All right, Miss Negative,” Lynne said quivering slightly, “if you’ve given up, fine! But I for one am going to look for a way out!”
She looked fragile and unsure of herself, and Xavier’s experience as a parent told him he could probably dissuade her with even the slightest hint of disapproval.
Was I too hard on her again? No, it doesn’t matter. We shouldn’t be sleeping anywhere near each other.
Further rumination was cut off, however, as they both immediately caught whiff of the characteristic tobacco that preceded the trio of kidnappers. The quiet, young one led the pack, carrying a variety of brushes and shampoos.
“Hello, horsies,” the leader said to Xavier in Castilian. “We have a prospective buyer on their way, so we need to clean you up nice and pretty. Be good, and you’ll get a big field to run around in with lots of other animals.”
Xavier bit his tongue and swallowed the cornucopia of crude retorts popping into his head, so Lynne chimed in instead: “Why are you doing this? Please understand. We aren’t really unicorns! Let us go!”
“You speak English, Alain?” the teen said.
“None at all! I could barely get past the whole ‘does go, goes, going’ nonsense. They’re all the same to me,” he responded.
“Well I like this one,” the third man said. “I can’t understand a word she says. Maybe foreign girls would be my type.”
“What’re they saying?” Lynne asked quietly.
“Seems like they all failed English. No surprise,” the other pony said.
“Hey, it looks like she can translate for us,” said Alain.
The man with the tobacco leaned in close towards Xavier. “Tell your friend that it’s bath time.” He ruffled Lynne’s mane. “Time to get nice and squeaky clean for the nice man that wants to give you horsies a new home,” he said in a sickening voice, grabbing their leashes before opening the stall door.
“What’s he saying now?”
“Well, it seems that they’re going to bath to us before selling us to a pretty penny,” Xavier explained as both mares were herded outside.
Lynne perked up a bit. “Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for our chance.” Their hooves hit the dirt below in uneven rhythm. “Then again, I wouldn’t mind a bath too much...”
“You want them to wash to you?”
“Well, not by them, but out of all the scary things they could do, it isn’t so bad. As a girl, I loved to brush our horses, and I have to wonder what it’s like on the receiving end.”
“You want to say that you want that they treat you like an animal?”
“We don’t have a choice anyway—“
“You’re choosing to like it. Will you let them mount you next?”
“Well what am I SUPPO—“
“Quiet!” multiple voices said at once behind them.
Lynne huffed at Xavier, who snorted back.
As they walked into the sunlight, they turned their backs to one another and were more than happy to go their separate ways.
It was degrading.
Xavier shivered as another bucket of soapy water washed over his back. He felt like a wet mop, his wet coat full of dirt and tangles. The one washing him stayed silent, but was clearly getting impatient with the knots. Thankfully his coat was relatively thin, but it still hurt. He had hoped to get the boy, who would be the least likely among the three to hold a grudge, but he had no such luck.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t just pain. Intermittently, when the brush didn’t catch, the unicorn felt an occasional flash of brief calm. For a few moments here and there, he was enjoying it; and it only got worse as his coat smoothed out.
What gives? I hate these fuckers… ow…. Why does it feel so good?
He hated himself for letting it tranquilize him, but eventually he gave in. He would let the unicorn body have this. He could pretend it was Sara brushing him—he’d do it for her.
The aged brush massaged his neck beneath the colorful mane. Its uneven bristles parted the red and yellow colors and then brought them together again. He could almost feel their sheen return, and with it, his mood improved as well. He felt his fuzzy fur straighten and fall neatly into place along his back and flank. He felt the same for his legs, and he became newly aware of the texture there, as if he had just snuggled into a handmade sweater. The bliss clashed continuously with guilt but was kept out by the serene cool cascading down the body that wasn’t his.
Finally satisfied, the leader dried him with some rags.
The unicorn gave a sigh of relief and opened his eyes to take in the bright, blue sky, low-hanging clouds and the distant Pyrenees to the north. A flash of green amongst the clouds momentarily distracted him, but he quickly dismissed it as nothing.
His reprieve was interrupted by a pull on his neck, and for once he didn’t feel like putting up much of a fight. Lynne, with her ears pointing to the ground and an unmistakable frown, was pulled up beside him. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.
After a brief pause of contemplation, she tried again: “So… how was it?”
“Horrible.”
She nodded weakly in agreement.
“Yeah,” Lynne said, “that foul-smelling b—brute was so rough with me. He paid no mind at to the tangles. This coat seems rather high maintenance too: so many knots after just a day!”
She would have said more, but Xavier felt another pull to his side, and he was ushered into the stall where the cow had been before. He wondered where it was but quickly decided he didn’t care if it meant more space. However, he felt a pull of a different kind towards the stall across from him.
Good. No more herd mentality. It can stay in that cell with that self-righteous bitch of a mare!
And Lynne too.
Alain was tense. The buyers had come in a group of four. He and his two cohorts found themselves darting back and forth, doing what little they could to accommodate their guests in the run-down facilities.
Chief among the newcomers was a stout man with the most intimidating set of hands any of them had ever seen. He spoke for all four of them. Save for a token greeting by Alain’s uncle, the other three didn’t speak a word.
This had already spoiled Alain’s plan, but when the man insisted on using French exclusively, things got difficult. This had forced him to take point with his mother tongue.
The pressure was huge: more money than he had ever hoped to see was at stake here, and he certainly didn’t count on his uncle to side with him if the other party decided to just outright steal his exotic acquisitions.
Harkaitz may look like a lowlife—because honestly he is—but he knows how to deal. Dammit how do I open this discussion?
The short man gave both of the unicorns a cursory examination, and quickly looked back to him.
“Are they not everything I promised?” Alain asked.
“Yes. They’re fine.”
“Real unicorns! They can even talk. I can show you if you’d like!” Alain said, trying to dial down his oversold enthusiasm. “One-hundred thousand each as a starting point. I’ve got a few other buyers who we’re looking at,” Alain lied.
“Done.”
“Wh—what?”
“Yes, that seems reasonable, and besides, I’d rather not stay in this trash heap any longer than necessary. It says a lot that the livestock is the least disgusting thing here.”
The insult was not lost on Alain, whose fists went white with rage. Though he felt he had earlier felt a sort of agrarian kinship with the man now turning his nose up at him, any connection, however faint, was now shattered.
The man’s voice carried an imperious tone. Despite his rough, tanned skin, there was something aristocratic about his face. Had he seen it before?
Alain stood up tall to retort, but the buyer’s smug grin paralyzed him. There was a defiant look in his eye; he knew that he held all the cards and that Alain dare not defy him.
“So what’ll it be, farm boy?”
“Bu—but of course.”
“Good.”
He gave a hand signal and all three of the men behind him snapped into motion.
“Should I write up the bill of sale?” Alain asked.
“Yes, you do that.”
Alain nodded to young Itzal, who handed him the pre-prepared document.
He accepted it, but first decided to step outside to let his temper cool.
The sky was a mess of enormous, dark gray clouds. For a moment, he thought he could reach up and feel their cottony texture.
Storm clouds.
Ominous…
He turned around and watched the stout man’s entourage encircle the ponies.
Something’s definitely not right.
Xavier watched their chief tormentor buckle under the oppressive confidence and silent power of the short man across from him. The pony tried his best to reap some satisfaction from his suffering, but it wasn’t much consolation. Of course, not understanding a word of what was being said didn’t help matters.
Guess we weren’t worth as much as he thought. Looks like we’re being sold to a man who really knows how to keep control.
He turned over his own concerns in his head and looked across the aisle to Lynne. The other unicorn was visibly shaken as the buyer briefly dropped his façade of disinterest and gave the pony a thorough visual appraisal. Her ears drooped lower than Xavier had ever seen them, and her coat itself seemed to lose some of its newfound sheen.
I might deserve this, but she’s so young. Who can blame her for being absolutely terrified for what comes next? Hell, why am I any different?
Xavier briefly took inventory of his emotions. Despite the relaxing bath, the bubbling rage from his constant degradation was still present, only overshadowed by the constant weirdness and unease from being a unicorn. While he still had many issues with the latter point, he felt a certain calm about their now-inevitable sale.
The remaining men from the purchasing party re-entered the stable. They carried bridles, ropes, saddles, and whips among other things, as if prepared to test them all. Lynne’s short-lived reprieve from the buyers’ scrutiny ended as one of the men stepped in front of her stall to better adjust a bridle.
As he watched the cyan unicorn once more shake with agitation, he became even more perplexed about why he didn’t share it.
Is it because I’m older? Because I’m a man?
Looking down in contemplation, he took a look at his hooves, as if for the first time. His thin maroon fur ran down the entirely of his short legs, ending in a dainty, somehow-feminine pair of hooves.
Looking like this, am I really that different from her? If they treat us the same anyway, what does it matter that I’m male on the inside? We’re now the same—rare pets for some rich rancher or whatever he is.
Is it because I’ve given up?
He had thought so at first, but the depression that would entail just simply wasn’t there. As he fumbled for an explanation, the wonderful feeling that greeted him that morning popped back into his head, having never been far out of mind. Although he was loathe to admit it, meeting her was the best part of the week. As two unicorn ponies, they were in it together.
No! We’re nothing alike! Just because we both ended up like this doesn’t make us the same. Who I am now has to mean something!
Still, he looked on with sympathy as the man started to fit the bridle to Lynne. Her despair was contagious, if not her fear, and he wanted to be close to her in spite of himself. Tapping his hooves nervously against the wall, he vacillated between his resistance to these planted emotions and wanting to help the young woman in front of him.
Is it so wrong to want to help someone in distress? I’d do it in a heartbeat for my own daughter. I don’t care if we’re ponies, I can still be man enough to help a girl in need. It’s the least I can do.
Satisfied with his emotional compromise, his attention wandered to the entrance, where the strong boy from before entered with a document, which was handed to the buyer. He watched the man impatiently scribble on the document with the aid of a nearby support beam. However, his attention was quickly jerked away by the sight of another man approaching him with a harness.
He looked over the stall door, which looked as oppressive as ever. The unicorn felt his legs turn to jelly, and he fell involuntarily to a sitting position.
So much for that, he thought. It’s a lot more intimidating up close. We’re both such tiny things in the face of enslavement.
His powerlessness rolled through him, churning his stomach.
Anything but this! He begged no one in particular. I’m sick of having no choices!
He felt a strangely potent breeze. All activity in the stable seemed to stop.
“Rolling across the open plains—” came an airy voice.
“Do you hear that?” the young kidnapper asked.
“Righteousness never rests.”
This time the voice was unmistakable.
“The hell’s there?!” the man with the tobacco shouted as everyone in the stable stood attentively.
Xavier shared their confusion, and his eyes darted quickly about the room, but to no avail.
“So too the wicked shall be sleepless...”
The shoddy stable shook from the increasing wind pressure. Xavier could feel his front hooves vibrating along with it.
The three kidnappers looked panicked, but the other men seemed to move into formation. Two of them drew guns, another took out a knife and the fourth found a heavy shovel leaning against one of the stalls.
“Visez la porte!” the unarmed leader ordered, getting behind the other four as the two gunmen loaded and aimed at the stable’s only entrance.”
“You! Pony!” the older kidnapper said to Lynne in Castilian. “Ask who’s there!”
“N—no sé span—espanol.....”
He spat on the ground. “Worthless!”
The stable was now nearly rocking side to side from the vibrations as the winds pierced Xavier’s fur, sending a chill of unease through his tiny body.
“For tracking on their turning tails are the WINGS OF JUSTICE!”
An enormous crash erupted from above Xavier. He looked up to see a gaping hole smashed through the ceiling, and he could briefly make out a pony before having the sense to dodge falling debris. However, a gust of wind swept it away before any could impact near him. The view cleared, and he saw the green winged pony beating his tiny wings with enormous exertion, bowling over the formation at the front of the stable.
In one smooth motion, the pegasus kicked off from the remainder of the roof and accelerated downward across the stable, kicking away the dropped firearms with two fluid kicks. The men were quick to recover and the closest to the newcomer pushed off the ground to swing his knife at the pegasus, who somersaulted in midair to avoid it. Another attempted to grab the pony from behind, but he effortlessly swished his tail out of the way, flew up and drop-kicked the assailant in the face. The pegasus continued to weave in and out of grab attempts, swings of the knife and the occasional punch. Dodging with ease, the uninvited guest was far too quick for them and perfectly timed his opportunities to knock the wind out of his attackers with quick bucks to each of their chests.
Finally free from the tangle of attackers, he hovered to the ceiling and bellowed a deep, hearty laugh.
“You will have to do better than that, rakish cretins! For virtue shines brightest when piercing through the nightmares which try us most!”
Who… who the hell? What!? Xavier gaped in confused astonishment.
The short man was furious and yelled for his comrades to get up. He turned his ire towards the kidnappers, who were standing stunned on the sidelines.
“Don’t do nothing.” He said in inflectionless Castilian. “There may not be a deal if you don’t do something.” Though his accent was flat, his body language made it clear that this was not a request, and the group of three hesitantly grabbed whatever improvised weaponry hadn’t already been claimed.
“Let battle be joined!” the pegasus cried, swooping downward as he avoided a sizable rock thrown by the man with tobacco. Lacking other options, the man reached for the broom, but the green pony flew at it hooves-first, shattering it completely while maintaining more than enough momentum to knock him to the ground.
The teen raised a metal rake above his head and awkwardly swung it down at the pegasus, who kicked it out of his hands, set his front hooves on the ground, and bucked him strongly in the stomach.
The last rustler then grabbed the pony by the tail, but the stallion broke the grab and kicked his chin on the way back up.
“It is truly a bright day for all if that is all evil can muster!”
As if responding to the challenge, the last of his original four opponents picked himself up. While the pegasus had been occupied, the men deprived of their firearms had come up with a sledgehammer and a sickle. Their employer gave a smirk and simply pointed a finger at the pony.
They came charging with greater agility than before, swinging, stabbing and lunging. The pegasus was ready, but had to work harder to dodge it all.
Xavier sat transfixed in his stall. He watched tensely as the green pegasus’s dark gray mane whipped back and forth from his constant change of direction. The unicorn’s heart-rate quickened as he watched their ray of hope struggle.
His trepidation came to pass as the stallion absorbed a glancing blow to the side from the shovel. The pony quickly righted himself and took to the air above his opponents. However, this didn’t free him, as the men’s weapons repeatedly slammed against the low ceiling as if trying to swat a fly. Looking slightly worried, the stallion weaved in and out desperately seeking an opening but finding none. Briefly retreating, he hovered inside one of the empty stalls before kicking off again towards the armed mob.
He once more flew towards them, feinting attacks only to dodge at the last second. It amounted to folly, and he got a cut on the barrel for his trouble. He failed to land a single blow and came dangerously close to pulverization as the sledgehammer swung up at him with tremendous inertia.
However, the stallion was ready for this and dodged, leaving the blunt instrument to connect with the beam behind him. He built up speed across the stable’s length and did a u-turn before slamming into the beam’s opposite side. With a splintering crack, it came down hard on the knife and shovel wielders.
The pegasus gave a brief smirk, but had to quickly swerve out of the way. The remaining two continued attacking him with unrelenting ferocity, showing no visible empathy for their fallen comrades.
“You cannot keep flying forever, Pony,” the leader of the buying party said in the same mechanical manner. “You are better than I would have expected, but I would advise you to give up now if you wish to live.”
“It is no compliment coming from a villain,”the pegasus said, sweat dripping down his muzzle.
“It’s over. My men are tireless, and your tricks will not work twice.”
The pegasus gave his wings another mighty flap, but his adversaries were ready and braced themselves.
“Surely you have more than that.”
The pegasus beamed proudly. “I was hoping you would say that.”
With a burst of speed, he flew out the hole he entered through.
Is that it? He’s running? he thought.
But he quickly proved Xavier wrong, returning with two storm clouds attached to his hooves.
“What are—“
“Omens of your demise!
The pegasus pony flew low and feinted an attack. The man rose his sledgehammer for a counterattack, but the pony pulled back. The other attacker stepped in, but the pony had already initiated an evasive corkscrew, meeting with the cloud that had drifted just above the sickle holder’s position. The pegasus came to a halt just above the cloud, pounding down on it with all four hooves. The cloud gave a rumble and let loose a thin bolt of lightning that came with an accompanying thunderclap, splitting the cloud in two from the power.
The man dropped his weapon and tumbled to the ground as his muscles failed him. Without missing a beat, the pony exploited the opening to push the remains of the expended cloud into the second cloud to make lightning strike even harder the second time.
The pegasus stallion posed triumphantly. “Your henchmen have fallen to the might of the Wonderbolts! Surrender, foul one, and face the infallible judgment of Princess Celestia—much more than a slaver such as yourself deserves!”
“Well, it would seem that this power is no fluke, more than I would expect from a compact pony,” the remaining man said with the usual indifference despite his obvious surprise. “However, you made the mistake of showing your hand first.”
Cracking sounds were heard as the man’s body reshaped itself under his skin. Long, black spines began, sprouting fractally from his arms, legs and chest. They grew and twisted, gradually covering his back as well before overtaking his entire body.
For the first time, the stallion’s face showed unmistakable dread. He was given little time to wonder, however, as the man jumped his entire height and then some to reach the pony, who dodged up and away, only to be caught by a suddenly extending spine grazing his cheek.
What… what is that thing?
The assailant pressed his advantage and jumped all the way to the ceiling to take another swipe at the pony, who dove downward into one of the stalls, rearing his back legs to kick the corrugated iron gate straight at his attacker. The gate easily detached and struck the monster of a man, who lunged towards the pony, unfazed by the impact, but the pegasus was already kicking off the ground. With an audible swish, he flew out the front door.
Is he giving up and leaving us with THAT? No… wait, I see.
Sure enough, the pony came back through the entrance he had created himself, pushing inside an armada of storm clouds along with him. He scattered them throughout the stable with a couple of quick kicks
There’s that too, but the higher roof gives him more manoeuvrability
The stallion went straight for the point, speeding towards a cloud above his prickled opponent. However, the mutant was having none of it and fired a large black spine at the pony’s predicted position, splitting the cloud in two.
“As if I’d let you,” the monster said initiating a barrage of projectile spines.
The green pony was quick to find the Achilles heel of this onslaught, however. With some well-placed wing beats, the entire spinefront was redirected harmlessly to the floor.
This pattern continued for a while, with both combatants pre-empting the other’s attack.
“Such… cowardly attacks… shall always falter in the face of the… Wings of Justice!” the pegasus said, panting after deflecting another round of missiles. With reduced speed, he darted for the hole in the roof and pulled more from the seemingly endless mass above the stable.
Re-entering, he kicked off the back wall, dodged a fan of smaller spines and circled back above to kick a cloud above his opponent’s head. The pointed purchaser anticipated this and shot a couple spines into it before the pegasus could make effective use of it. He reserved the larger ones for this purpose and sent a quick barrage of smaller spines at the stallion.
“The same trick won’t work twice. Give up.”
The emerald stallion said nothing, but merely flew outside for more clouds. He froze upon returning to find the monster of a man standing outside Lynne’s door with a long, obsidian blade extending from his wrist.
“I am no idiot. You are here for them. You think you are clever, bringing abundant clouds so I cannot avoid another one of your lightning bolts. This ends now. Surrender yourself or I start with this one. And she will scream in a language you can understand.”
No!
The pegasus gave a hearty laugh.
"Do you lack reason? Or are you mad enough to think you have trapped me? the twisted man asked.
Xavier nervously eyed several nearby clouds; many of them were within range. If only he could get to them.
“Yes, I see that cloud above me. Try anything, and I slit her throat. After all, I have an extra."
“In the end, a truly fiendish character such as yourself cannot resist the basest of villainy, drawn to it like a spiteful mosquito to the foulest of waters!” With that boast, the pegasus brought his front hooves down on the cloud mass beneath him.
Arced lighting radiated from the sides, igniting one cloud after another in electric charge. Xavier could feel his fur stand on end as the clouds polarized one by one. The maroon pony covered his ears as best he could and hit the ground.
The electricity encircled the room, converged and struck the monster with a single almighty shock. The anticlimactic static pop of the lightning strike surprised Xavier, but it did not take away from his relief in the slightest, as the monster fell to the ground, unmoving.
With the tension evaporating, accumulated concern poured back in. It… it looks like we’re saved. But what now? We’re in the middle of nowhere. Two mares… and a stallion...
The triumphant pegasus took a deep breath and glided gently to the ground, making a point to step over his fallen adversary as he smiled at Lynne. “Are you injured, Your Highness?” he asked, opening the door.
Lynne took a few quick breaths, shaking as tears fell from her eyes.
“Thank you!” she cried, throwing her forehooves around her rescuer’s withers. “I was so scared! Thank you! Thank you!”
“Fear not, my lady, everything is fine now.”
“How can I ever repay you?” she asked with a trepid smile.
“The gratitude of a mare as fair as yourself is reward enough in itself.”
“In that case…” Lynne pushed her muzzle forward in a kiss, awkwardly finding the side of his mouth before sheepishly locking lips with him.
And it went on—and on. The stallion opened his eyes and started looking bashfully around before she finally broke it off.
What the hell’s with her? This guy could be anyone—some creepy old guy, a woman, maybe even some crazed military nut!
The stallion finally broke the kiss, blinking twice before shooting her a wide smile.
“As grateful as I am for your affections, which are sorely wasted on a commoner such as myself, we have other matters to attend to. I believe I have another to save; then we must head to Equestria posthaste! Who knows when more of those vile things will choose to beleaguer us?”
Lynne nodded intently, and the stallion gave a turn, trotting over to Xavier with a winning grin.
Xavier’s relief had turned to fury.
You bastard! You think you’ll rescue us, and we’ll be eating out of your hand? Looking to expand your herd are you?
“Hello, my lady. This sort of lock can be tricky for us ponies. Give me but a moment.”
Xavier could feel a pressure emanating from within the base of his horn.
Just because you rescue some “mares,” you think you’re entitled to us? You think all you have to do is wait for us to go into heat and we’ll be begging you to fuck us?
The filly from his dream rushed to the forefront of his mind, her grass green mane adorably falling over her eye.
Wait a minute... he’s green too!
Feeling the strange energy build up in his horn once more, he concentrated all his anger at the door in front of him and released it. His horn glowed orange and phantom impetus hammered the front of the stall, denting the door, shattering the latch and forcing the pegasus to dive for cover.
Xavier slowly stepped out of the stall with a defiant smirk, a new fire burning in his heart. “Equestria, huh?” he said. “Yes, take me there. There’s someone I want to... talk with.”
The stallion reared up on his back legs.
“A mare with an eye on the future—I can get behind that.”
The stallion trotted to the front of the stable, with Lynne following close behind, and flared his wings.
“Onward everypony!” he shouted, taking off galloping.
“Wait!” Lynne called out, running after him.
“Wow, he’s bad at this hero thing,” Xavier said. “They left me chained to the stable.”
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Good chapter, I really enjoyed it.
P.S.
Ponies should not leave their magical books behind, it seems that even Xavier's book knowledge will be put to use...
6054393
Thanks!
To Xavier's dismay, any information on ponies is too valuable to ignore at this point. That's probably the biggest factor to ensure the recipients read enough to assimilate the Equish language, even if the book is of no interest to them.
Though if I have to wonder if some schmuck out there is wondering what the hay to do with his copy of Pony Jailbreak for Dummies.
Awesome update \0/
AVANTURE
you mean tenet, right?
ten·et
ˈtenət/
noun: tenet; plural noun: tenets
a principle or belief, especially one of the main principles of a religion or philosophy.
"the tenets of classical liberalism"
wow. When that pegasus stallion came in, i was reading his lines in the voice of Dudley Do Right. (the cartoon one)