The Runaway Bodyguard

by scifipony

PART TWO: Talent Realized; Chapter 14 — The Gangs of Baltimare

A fetlock struck my nose, twisting my head forcefully right. A gout of blood, like a splash of mud from under a wagon wheel—but red—shot over my shoulder, illuminated by the harsh light in the packed warehouse. At least three thousand watched. The old building had been transformed into a makeshift arena using shipping pallets standing end-on and arranged as walls.

The blood spatted wetly to the straw-strewn dirt as the crowd roared at the first strike my pegasus opponent had landed on me. It burned and stung at the same time. The blood I snuffed up my nose caused an instant sinus headache.

This was the mixed-pony welterweight championship bout. Shadow Strike, a white glacier-blue-maned pegasus mare, had beaten an earth pony to make it to this match. Blockzit had been my size, small for a stallion, but the golden-furred red-maned Clydesdale bruiser had been pure muscle. Pegasi as a rule didn't beat comparable-sized earth ponies, nor did unicorns for that matter. Shadow Strike and I would not be facing off had we not beat our previous opponent.

I looked up to catch Blockzit's concerned amber eyes as he waved behind the arena walls. I grinned and put a hoof to my nose to staunch the sticky flow. I caught view of Coach as he spun a hoof.

Right. I'd lost my spell queue. I cast first to pinch my nose with my magic, then began the other prep as I followed the audience's eyes upward.

It was all good. I'd been hit, but only side-hoofed. A direct hoof would have broken my jaw or muzzle, but my magical push-aside block on Shadow Strike had worked. Nothing felt broken.

The pain amped up my rage. I needed that—that was the missing puzzle piece. I still could not cast a certain spell at will, but I sorely wanted to win this match. I'd get my full cut of the winnings were I to win, and that would be enough to rent in Prancetown, a college suburb far outside the city of Baltimare, where I could get a better job and maybe attend magic school.

That cocky feathered buzzing bee flew in my way. She zigged when I zagged my magic, evading like the pro she was. Even when I caught her tail or hoof, she knew how to weasel free. I could not touch her wings or I'd be instantly disqualified, which made targeting tricky despite practice. That Coach had taught me how to queue spells allowed me to switch between grasping, pulling, and swatting. Transposing all the vector math over three-axises by half-a-pony length made my targeting all the more approximate. I could not afford a mistake.

Shadow Strike could not hit my horn for the same reason I could not hit her wings. That'd she'd lain one on my nose attested to her speed and agility. The few bruises she suffered were all remote-controlled, caused by me forcing her crash into things or into the ground. Magic punches weren't worth the splendors afforded them. She stayed out of hoof-boxing range and away from every buck I aimed.

Infuriating! I had scouted her, but surely she'd taken time to see my fights and read the newspaper articles. She worked to exhaust my magic, despite landing every fifteen seconds as the rules required. I couldn't gallop at her fast enough. Not an earth pony. Remember?

It frustrated me that she deserved the win. More so that she laughed every time I missed.

I worked to shove her jabs and feather cuts away while concentrating on prepping my unreliable narrow Levitate spell. All the arcana I'd read lead me to predict that I could pool immense force at the end of a pole-shaped magical apparition, despite failing again and again.

From growing experience, I understood I could not directly hurt a pony by force of magic. I stomped a hoof. Not fair!

Sadly, unicorns had evolved to grant wishes.

I ducked as she dived at my back and spun to follow as the disappointed audience groaned. She was the 3-to-1 odds-on favorite. I preferred an earth pony opponent any day! Half my no-decisions were pegasi.

As Shadow Strike touched down as required, I looked up at the glaring lights that illuminated my lack of athletic prowess—and felt a surge in my magic.

The spell math fell into place and balanced the targeting vectors...

A chill ran down my spine.

Wary green eyes on her opponent, the pegasus pony leapt airborne with a relieved smile, heading for the rafters. I hadn't charged or tried to knock her over. The feathered bee's wings fairly blurred as she zoomed out of reach.

I inhaled, pointed my horn upward, scrunched my eyes closed, and shoved splendor after splendor of magic upward with an inarticulate scream.

The blue-green flash almost blinded me, even through my eyelids. A loud Crack! followed. I jumped back reflexively. "Yikes!"

Hitting the pony-sized glass and wood lights with a sledgehammer would have made no less racket. Shattered glass exploded out. Smoking flinders spiraled away as all the arena lights burnt out.

Shocked, Shadow Strike didn't instantly react, but in the next second changed her upward trajectory away from the center of the arena, incidentally toward the roof buttresses. I cast a lesser Levitate and shoved.

She closed her wings to protect them, but struck her hip audibly against wood.

She fell along her trajectory, fluttering as she tumbled, seemingly unable to find level.

Glass and wood smashed into the ground with a crackling bang, bits splashing outward that I had to jump to avoid.

I cast Pull downward on her muzzle. She squirmed free and got her wings out to flap against her downward acceleration, so I applied Push against her injured hip. She gasped, but pulled up anyway. I galloped to meet her.

At the last moment, I cast Push again to adjust away her flight adjustment. Had she chosen a rightward yaw, I would have helped her.

She hadn't.

I'd scouted her enough to learn that she was left-hoofed. Having been pulling up desperately so that she essentially reared midair, she body-slammed a pole at six pony heights with a resounding smack.

I heard the clunk as her head followed her body and her chin connected with wood. I didn't hear breaking bones, but her partisans where screaming for her to veer so I might have missed that wet sound. Her red boxing gloves continued into the crowd.

One hit a rearing pink mare in the chest.

I caught the pegasus and levitated her gently down to the ground. I could have let her drop into a heap, but I wasn't that kind of a mare.

She was out cold. My sixth KO overall, not counting my unofficial first one.

As per the rules, I sat down on her as the ref counted her out. No way she was bucking me off.

She groaned and said, "Who hit my— me—wha?"

The crowd of thousands roared.

The ref lifted me with a hoof in the pit of my tank-top jersey, gesturing me to rear with him. Legs in the air, he grabbed a hoof and pulled it upward. He bellowed, "Princess Grim, by a knock-out, your new welterweight cham-peen!"

I put a hoof to my nose and it came back red as I pirouetted slowly around on my rear legs. I snuffed and that made it worse, but despite the pain, I smiled.

I was happy. Six straight wins and nothing a spell could not heal.

Black wash-out dye colored my mane, tail, and fetlocks. My jersey had an embroidered breastplate design that satirized Princess Celestia's breastplate. Mine was silver with a contrarian moon in the center. The same midnight moon graced my trunks like the cutie mark that I hoped I'd never earn. Blue wash-out dye dyed fur completed the costume, but stained the jersey where I perspired.

The giddy-up didn't fool anypony that attended the fights. Hopefully it would fool Proper Step or the evil princess my costume mocked, were either to encounter my picture in passing on a sports page. We prizefighters were actors on many levels.

It was the game of bits. A way to earn plenty of them. A way to create a new life.

The ref settled the weighty championship cuirass—formed steel sheet plated with gold, bedecked with red roses and blue spiral ribbons—across my withers. I trotted around the arena, waving and beaming, to the cheers of the crowd as the officiating doctor tended to Shadow Strike who now stood, but looked dazed. My fans through blue-dyed roses.

Ponies held open the official gates and others kept the crowd beyond the lines. My first clue that something had gone off the rails happened when an earth pony bull galloped from the right and blocked my trainer from following.

"Coach!"

A young voice, not my trainer's, said, "Don't worry yo-self about it."

I turned.

I found a stallion's pink kerchief at the end of a hoof. I pressed it to my nose and watched the chivalric pony's flank as he walked to the sports book. He took the bits from the fight promoter, counted out at least a quarter, and brushed it into a pouch. He scraped out another pile as I approached.

"Your take."

It amounted to substantially more than I knew my prize purse ought to contain, even subtracting Coach's cut. Something told me not to say anything since nopony or the promoter said boo. The whole fight system wasn't legal–despite payments to the Constabulary Retirement Fund—nor was the betting.

I carried the pouch in my magic as an excuse to keep a spell spun up. I didn't have pockets in my fight giddy-up, so it made the otherwise threatening move innocent.

I'd shorted out all the lights. The late afternoon sun through the dirty upper windows left much of the makeshift arena dusky and full of shadows. As he trotted into some light from the clearstory, I got my first good look at the stallion.

I remembered the punk—and his gold chains.

"I have a deal for you. You'll make plenty more bits than you're making now."

I backed away in disgust.

"It's not an offer you can refuse."

And...

That brings me back to how the Countess Aurora Midnight, the Earl of Grin Having, ended up in the fight business in the first place...

Author's Note:

Comments, please.

Are you still with me? We knew Starlight could fight. It's canon that eastern ponies are irascible and pugnacious. Stay tuned for how she became a prizefighter.

What do you think about the game-balance of the sport that allows earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns to fight each other fairly?

Comments

[AbruptUrethra]

I'm just catching up to this story, and I think it's severely underrated. It's a weird feeling to see a 120k story with an exemplary upload schedule, and after thoroughly enjoying every chapter scrolling down to find not a single comment.