Charlie Vs. Foxtrot Part 1: Crashin vs. Matteo
I was lucky. Extremely lucky.
Right when I needed to see both Squad Foxtrot and Squad Charlie, they were scheduled to train together. Inter-squad sparring.
“They won’t exactly let you talk to them between the fights you know” Swift Justice said from the seat beside me. Once they returned, Ratchet’s Squad Zero got the full story on what I was doing here and what I needed from them. They soon after parted ways, most having other things to do, but Swift Justice opted to stay by my side a bit longer, either because he was curious to see me work or because he wanted to see the fights.
If I were him, my motivation would definitely be the latter.
“I don’t need to talk to them.” I replied. “At least not yet. Fighting is a form of communication itself. Right now I just want to get a sense of who they are.”
The Wonderbolt battle dome was more than a bit extravagant. For one, it was a battle dome. If it was pragmatically made, it would just be some form of rectangle, like most of the rooms in the compound. Hell, with that shape, you could possibly have multiple areas to fight. Instead, it’s a shape designed to draw all eyes to the center, a fact highlighted by the rows of bleachers surrounding it, encouraging crowds to look down on the fighters, like the pegasopolian coliseums of old. The only thing separating the spectators from the bloodshed was the 5 feet of height difference between the pit floor and the audience floor, and a machine fed cloud cover making a ceiling.
This wasn’t built just as a place to learn to fight.
This was built as a place to learn a love of violence.
Which is probably why Rivet looked uncomfortable.
“Do I really have to be here?” He pleaded. “I don’t really like watching the fights…”
“You DON’T like watching the fights, that’s EXACTLY why you’re here!”
“…” He stared at me “Please don’t tell me you’re going to make that A Thing the entire time you’re here.”
“Make what a thing?”
He sighed “Nevermind…”
“Besides!” I continued. “You’re a Pegasus, a descendant of a warrior race! Enjoying violence is your birthright! Don’t tell me you never enjoyed seeing me get beat down?”
“NO!” He snapped. “I just got scared!” He glared at me before looking down. “…and I wish you would stop making those jokes. I mean, despite everything, you've helped me out through a lot, and I do consider you a friend, but then you turn around and joke that I should hate you, and that you deserve bad things happening to you.” He turned to me once more, with a sad look in his eyes. “How am I supposed to feel about that?”
“Well, he did blackmail you.” Swift said.
“Rivet…” His unintentional puppy dog eyes cut straight through my defenses. “…Fine. Sorry. I can’t make any big promises but I’ll cut down on it when you’re around.”
Damn it Rivet. You’re too pure.
It would be easier if you hated me.
My jovial mood ruined, I continued talking. “All jokes aside, there’s two reasons I brought you along.” I turned to Swift. “You’ll actually be a big help with the first one. I just need you two to tell me what you know about the fighters as they take the stage.”
“And what’s the second?” Rivet asked.
I pointed to the cloud machines above us. “You’ll be better at this part. Keep an eye out for malfunctions. Look for signs of the saboteur.”
His face took a grim expression, realizing that there was still danger around, before he nodded determinedly and started looking upward.
“So how is this going to work?” I asked Swift.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I assume you don’t just all pile up in there and kill each other… you don’t do that right?”
Swift chuckled. “No, that only happens when we play Kill-The-Stallion-With-The-Ball.”
Note to self: Avoid any and all balls here.
“But I assume you’re asking about the rules?” he said. I nodded. “One of the elites will act as a referee. Since it’s the recruits fighting, Silver Lining is taking that place.” He pointed to an older gray stallion with a puffy white mane sitting by the entrance of the ring. “The old fogey is in charge of training up the recruits.”
“Wait, that’s Silver? They keep Wonderbolts that age? He must be over 50!”
Swift shrugged. “I don’t like him, but I can’t say he isn’t good. Anyways, he’ll randomly pick a pony from each squad to fight. No biting, no mane pulling, no eye gouging, among other things. They’ll go at it until knock out, surrender, or more commonly, the ref deciding, ether during the match or after they time out. They should be finishing their warm up practice right about now.”
“LINE UP!”
Silver had yelled into the lower entrance, meant for the fighters. This was followed by the sound of quickly shuffling hooves.
The fighters had arrived.
“YOU CALL THAT A LINE?! I’VE SEEN STRAIGHTER LINES IN MUSICAL THEATRE!”
“He better be talking about choreography…” I muttered.
Unfortunately, we were seated in a position where we couldn’t see into the lower entrance, so I couldn’t get a good look at the group as a whole.
“Listen up! You may think that, just because you’re recruits, we won’t be expecting much here in the arena! That you can rely on the elites to fight the good fights while you find your footing! Well, you’re DEAD WRONG! You are Wonderbolt recruits! In other words, before you are recruits, you are WONDERBOLTS! With all the burdens and expectations a Wonderbolt is expected to carry! So when you go out there, I want to see a clean fight! I want to see a good fight! I want to see a skillful fight! I want to see a brutal fight! I will accept no less than 200%! Do you understand?!”
“SIR YES SIR!” They said in unison.
“Alright!” without missing a beat, he dug a hoof into two different piles of cards, pulling one out from each. “First up is Matteo and Crashin’ Burn!”
Matteo? That doesn’t sound like a pony na-
Before I could finish my thought, two fighters, each more out of place looking then the last, walked toward opposite sides of the pit.
First was a white Pegasus mare with a purple mane, cut into a Mohawk so messy and uneven it could only be self-cut. Her body was covered in bruises, scrapes, and cuts. Her snout looked permanently scrunched, probably from a broken nose, and her feathers looked like they hadn’t had too good a preening in a while. Her ear was missing a chunk.
“Is…is she really fit to fight?” I asked.
Swift shook his head. “Even if she wasn’t, she’d still be here.”
Across from her was a massive griffon.
“You guys have a griffon in your ranks?!”
Swift seemed nonplussed about my surprise. “Oh Matteo? Yeah. He’s strong. I’ve seen him fight before”
“But why did he join the Wonderbolts? Doesn’t Griffionia have their own flight team? The Sky Wings or something?”
He shrugged again. “I don’t know the full story, but I heard it was something to do with him being too big to fit in their formations. Thankfully, he’s found a good niche for himself here. I am worried for him in this match…”
“Wait, you’re worried for the guy who’s almost double the size of his opponent? An injured looking one?”
“It isn’t that he’s not stronger than her..." he paused, looking for the right words. "...it’s that she’s an opponent where being stronger than her doesn’t mean much.”
I tilted my head in confusion. “Who is she anyways?”
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about Crashin’. She was a race flyer, until she quit. She was an MMA fighter, until she quit. She was a gang member, until she quit. I’ve heard that she’s one of the few recruits that Silver has completely given up on. I haven’t talked to her much, but I’ve seen her fight.” He shivered a bit. “Don’t tell any of the guys I said this, but she kind of scares me.”
“Okay, I’ll only tell Shin.”
Thwack
“Ow!”
While we were talking, the two had been putting on their gloves and padding, limbering up, and waiting for the buzzer to ring.
“Hey” Crashin’ said, her voice carrying a thick lower Manehattan accent. “B’fore we start, Ya mind promisin’ me something?”
“What is it?” Matteo responded, his voice sounding too grave and serious for a simple spar.
She gestured over her body. “Don’ pay any attention ta my size or ta deez little love taps. When da buzzer rings, I want ya to go all out on me.”
“Feh!” He looked angry “I’m offended you think I wouldn’t”
She chuckled at this. “Ya see, dats what they all say, but—“
Before she could finish her sentence, the buzzer rang, and they launched themselves to each other with no hesitation.
Matteo drew back his massive fist, and threw a devastating looking straight, one combining the force of his massive size, his swing, and the momentum of his whole body. Crashin’ saw it, and she faced it head on.
Without blocking
Without flinching
Without budging
Without blinking
She took the punch right in her cheek.
THWACK
“’Zat all?” She asked. Her face was completely impassive.
Before matteo could react or respond, she used her free forelegs to deliver a quick combination of punches directly to his face, closing in with each punch, until she was less than a leg’s length away from Matteo.
“Why you!” Matteo threw a hook directly into her side, which she once again completely ignored blocking, and threw another set of punches.
Less than a minute after starting, the match had turned into a merciless slugfest, one party too large to dodge, one party not bothering to take any defensive measures at all.
“What is she doing?!” Rivet looked woozy at seeing the harsh impacts they were trading.
“In-boxing” I responded.
“What?”
“Normally Crashin’ would be at a severe disadvantage, not just due to weight classes, but due to their difference in reach. Matteo’s legs are longer, so he has a safe zone where he can attack without her attacks reaching. In response, she closed herself in uncomfortably close. A punch or kick needs to reach full extension to reach full power, and by placing herself before that extension point, she’s neutered his attacks.”
The rapid exchange of blows continued, as Crashin’ rushed forward every time Matteo tried to make space.
“He can’t use the jab or straight to its full potential. He doesn’t have enough time to set up a kick, since she’s constantly throwing punches. Because of her smaller reach, she can get closer to the full extension point, and thus throw a harder punch. He can only throw the comparatively unwieldy hook, and uppercut. This isn’t boxing, though, and she’s forgetting something. She’s leaving herself straight open for an –“
TWACK
“…elbow”
Matteo hit her across the side of the head with his elbow, sending her spinning. She immediately used the momentum of her spin to throw a lariat at the opposite side of his head, and used the opening to rush in for more counters.
“That doesn’t explain why she’s not blocking!” Rivet said, sounding more distraught as the fighters looked worse and worse with every exchange.
“Playblitz sparred with her once.” Swift said, looking a bit unnerved. “His specialty is freefalling. He grapples his opponent and slams him down from a high distance. When he was dropping her, she was able to pull a single wing out of his grip. She pointed it straight downward. If he finished the drop normally, he would have completely ruined her wing. He panicked and turned his body, taking all the impact.” He turned toward me. “He said that, as she was taking her own wing hostage, she just smiled at him. That’s why I was worried for Matteo…being strong doesn’t matter against an opponent who has no regard for their own safety”
The effects of her strategy were readily apparent. Matteo looked more exhausted than he should, wincing as he moved, irritating sore spots from her various blows. Crashin’, however, looked slightly worse for the wear, with several bright red bumps that will be bruises at best, welts at worst. She turned the match from a battle of skill into a battle of attrition.
But her strategy had a massive flaw, as the story with Playblitz illustrated.
“ENOUGH!” Matteo bellowed. He opened his talons and grabbed both of her forehooves.
Her strategy is weak against grapples.
With all his strength, he spun her around before sending her flying into the ground. She didn’t have time to blink before she felt the impact.
Taking no chances with her, he rushed downward, placing his weight on her and pulling her foreleg behind her back.
“Augh!” She wildly struggled in his grip.
“Surrender. You fought honorably, if a bit strangely. It’s over.” Matteo said sternly.
She stopped struggling for a moment, then turned her head as far as she could to Matteo, smiling condescendingly. “Hey, whateva happened ta goin’ all out?”
He tightened his grip as he became angrier. “Are you saying I didn’t?”
“I’m sayin’ dat puttin’ me in an armlock an’ not doin’ anythin’ else ain’t exactly goin’ all out.”
“…What?” Matteo’s eyebrow lifted.
“Gah, do I hafta do everythin’ around here?”
Silver stepped forward. “Alright. I’ve seen enough. Fight’s over. The winner is—“
Before he could finish, Crashing violently twisted her upper body—
SNAP
…ripping her shoulder clean from its socket.
“GRAUGH!”
Aside from her screams of pain, no one in the battle dome made a sound. Rivet looked nauseous. Swift looked shocked. Even Silver was frozen.
“RAUGH!” Both from Matteo’s grip loosening in surprise, and from a greater degree of flexibility her dislocated arm allowed her, she was able to twister herself around from under him, and kick him off. “Augh…” She forced herself to stand on her hind legs as her arm dangled out in front of her. She spent a few seconds panting before she bit her lip…
POP
…and pushed her foreleg back into the socket.
“Dis fight’s not over.” She said as she took a fighting stance again.
“No.” Silver cut in. “Crashin’, you need to go see Nurse Bliss immediately”
“Aww, cmon Silvy, don’t stop my fun now.” She smiled. “There’s so much more I wanna feel.”
“I said NO!” He had walked up straight to her face “I already declared Matteo the winner. I’m not afraid to drag you kicking and screaming to the infirmary again.”
“…Tch. Fine” She turned and limped toward the exit. “Congrats, big guy. Thanks for the fight.”
Matteo’s face looked anything but triumphant.
Only one match in and I can already tell.
The ponies here are terrifying. Terrifying enough to applaud.
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Well, that was a sort of brutal fight.
6304542
Thankfully the rest of them wont be anything like this one.
I wrote Crashin' to be an outlier in every sense of the word.
6304774
Glad to see that tone is working. I picked it not only to fit the tone of a mystery, but for a deeper reason. I'll probably explain in more detail in a post-epilogue author's note, but from the outset, I wrote this story as an Anti-Wonderverse story. I don't mean like a hate story, meant to bring down the original. Rather, to differentiate myself, I tried to take as many stylistic and thematic opposites to Calm's writing style. Calm uses mostly objective third person narration with an overall optimistic tone, so I chose a pessimistic first person narrator that colors everything he describes. I was kind of worried he would come off as insufferable...
You missed some punctuation marks, but other than that, all's good.