Horse La Horse Season 2: Desperate Struggle

by Stegtorn

Episode 7.5: Strike when the Iron is HOT

. . .Earlier that day. . .

"Now, Iron Will, you're coming out of retirement from being a henchman and forsaking your workout and motivational speaking career for a chance at being a member of the Mega Forces here at the Colosseum in Canterlot. Is this correct?"

You snatch the mic away from the jabroni holding it, "that is perfectly correct Filthy Rich, and might I say I am loving what the Mega Forces are doing with the place. There may be some things I would change but it's certainly an amazing new decor with both princesses out of commission and the forces of evil holding the reins."

Filthy R grunts and wrestles the mic back, shaking his head at you and adjusting his tie. You smile for the camera and wink. You must look amazing! Chest unshaven and shaggy, horns polished but deadly, nose ring glittering.

"Your opponent is Ahuizotl, and he is no laughing matter—"

"HA, HA, HA," you swipe that mic and get close to the camera, moving with such swiftness your nose ring flaps up and flicks the lens as you halt in front of it, "Aku-whatever your name is, I'm having a laugh at you pal. And you know what? So are these pythons," you flex your arm and tap the mic against it.

"Hear that pulsating? That's strength brother. And I've got a lot of it. Heck, I've got enough to adjust that overbite of yours my friend, and our match is gonna end with you hitting the floor, your face rearranged to my desigggggnnnn. Yeah that's right brother, because you got about a thirty-three and one third chance of beating me in the ring, ya hear me?" you tap the camera lens furiously, neck veins pumping.

"So that means I've got a sixty-six and two thirds chance of winning today. But hold on, remember the gun show? NO? Lemme remind ya," you give them a Mister Olympia winning "front lateral spread" pose.

"There is your reminder, so you know I'm a genetic freak, and being a genetic freak that means I get a twenty-five percent bonus. YOU CAN'T BEAT ME. Ahuizotl, you're gonna step into that ring with your dumb forward eyeballs and an eight and one thirds chance of winnin' boy. Yeah that's right, I've stacked up a 91 and two-thirds chance of grinding your jabroni ass to paste, and you can take that to the bank."

You power bomb the the mic to the ground and walk off stage, leaving the crew and Filthy Rich to pick up the pieces. Waltzing off the set you feel high as a kite, but a small part of you worries if your age will put you at a disadvantage against your opponent. Only time will tell. . .

Midday rolls around, and the messenger fetches you from your hotel room. You briefly wonder how your student is doing in his bout, but you put it out of your head to focus on yours. With luck both of you will get close to the Mega Forces but it probably won't happen. If he doesn't make it, it'll fall to you to carry on the plan. That makes you feel a bit strange, and a bit old. You rub your ol' horns, pondering. Maybe you should have stuck to recording dumb shit on the internet for five dollars or lower.

A pair of changelings escorted you from the hotel to the arena, crafted in less than a week with the blood, sweat and magic of a ton of imprisoned ponies. All of which were released and given free season passes to the Colosseum's events. Not so evil after all, actually. The sun was bright today, and the air just a few degrees over 20 °C. Pretty perfect weather if I do say so myself. Good spring weather.

You start up a brisk pace to your destination. Just now you're realizing what entrance music you gave to the announcer. Your pumping with anticipation, you know the crowd is simply going to go hog wild when your music blares over those speakers. Being a total pro at this, you've got many years of experience making amazing entrances and wooing the crowds. This time will be no different. Ahuizotl will be a massive pushover, and there is no way in hell he can work the crowd like you can. That sorry sap with five hands is gonna be easy peasy lemon squeezey.

The nicety of Canterlot, the fountains and bushes and plant life gave way to broken up dirt and the roar of a crowd as you got closer to the new facility. You turn your head back on the nice white buildings and cobblestone, looking forward to the gritty sandy-colored walls of the round arena.

The guards usher you in, you're late they say, the gates closing with a rattle behind you as you enter, sun in your eyes and yelling in your ears. "AND TO FACE HIM: HERE COMES THE BIG BAD BULL, IRON WILL!" The announcer yells, the crowd cheering and spouting your name. The speakers crackled to life, and it begins to play!

Theme of Iron Will:

[Ready! The Idolm@ster 2]

Ahuizotl stomps at the dirt to try to intimidate you, and then his dog-like ears catch the music. The crowd fell silent quickly, mumbling confusion came from all around. You flexed your bicep, kissed it, and posed like a big bronze god. Some of the crowd regained their faculties, but Ahuizotl was too busy shouting to the announcer to turn it down.

"Look out!" the spokespony yelped in his "radio" voice, trying to warn the silly mutant dog.

You are already 3/4ths of the way toward him, hooves smashing dirt to paste and arm raised up for a sick overhead. CLUNK! Fist hits skull, and you shove Ahuizotl to the earth, his dump overbite digging an inch into the ground. You place your foot on his head and pose for the crowd.

"A taunt, daring move from Iron, but look! It's not over."

You feel something grapple your leg, that bastard's hand-tail squeezes your thigh, claws digging into your fur. Grunting in pain, you wince, pulling away. Not a chance! Ahuiztol spins his neck around like an owl, bones cracking as his body faces you, pushing off his back all four of his hands hit you hard. Two feet in your chin and two hands knocking into your legs.

"He's put him off balance folks! Not seconds in and this is already a technical match!"

You go down like Santa in a chimney. Ahuzitol has the upper hand(s) now, pinning you with five grimy paws. But the music is in your veins! He's got you pinned, but he's starting to sweat. Thrashing like a fish out of water is breaking his grip, then suddenly his arms give out and it frees your hands. Spending a ki point, you deliver a flurry of blows to his abdomen, the compliment of the sound turbine engines and rushes of wind accompany each strike.

The dog-thing reels back, body shuddering. He collapses on his back like a flipped over bug. You are too old to repeat the same mistake twice, this time you don't grandstand so obviously. But you're smart, you put on a show. You start huffin' and puffin' like a big bad bull, pacing around him, muscles flexing as you raise up your fists in a generic boxing stance. Your eyes are locked on him down on the floor, he hazily glances at you, head trying to pick itself off the floor, swinging here and there.

The announcer is working with you, pumping up the crowd for your success. Damn you're dumb, you think suddenly. Ahuizotl's tail-hand swings for your legs, smacking into your left leg, taking you off balance. Why did you pace so close! You stumble, mind going into that "I'm gonna fall" state, and that is not where you wanna be.

He spins on his back and kicks with both legs at your off balance knee, toppling you. "LOOK AT THAT REVERSAL!" the announcer shouts, your opponent cackling to himself.

"First you, then Daring-Do, then the world!" he shouts, pouncing on you. Not so quick! You instinctively try to ram him with your horns, but your thick head gets shoved back to the ground by one of his paws. Dirt and sand gets all up in your eyes, you spit and shake, trying to get it off. All the while you can feel the hammering of his tail-hand and free left hand, doing a number on your liver. With your head and hands all pinned there isn't much you can do.

Except buck like hell! You bring your meaty legs into position, gearing them up like pistons, and POW! You launch him halfway across the arena, his grip being ripped off you by the force of your strike. Now is the time for grandstanding! You charge after him after recovering your footing.

"IRON WILL MAKE YOU HUMBLE!" you roar, baseball sliding into a position where you can deliver to your enemy an Iron Clutch (in 30s or less, or your money back, and that's an Iron Guarantee). As if on cue, Ahuizotl had staggered up, half crouched over, facing the stands and not you. With your two unshaven arms you wrap around him, and pick him up for the finishing suplex!

SLAM! A cloud of dust rolled out from the center of the impact.

"ARRRGHHH!" he yelps, hands naturally patting his injured back as he writhed in pain. You pose and roar, feeling the hype, and starting to feel all the pain from those hits. You're gonna need a power nap after this.

"That's it folks, Iron Will passes onto the next bracket! Thanks for attending everyone! And everyone at home, stay updated for a new installment of Bird Watching 101, tonight we have expert Sky Watcher on. . . "

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

Comments

[DRaily]

Well, at least Iron Will will not need to scrape goo out of all his orifices like Anon will XD