My Guardian Cozy

by Idyll

Part 3: Agent Golden-eyes

Author's Note:

Let me say again: this story is one day of many days of Cozy's guard days. Please don't expect a big ending. This is a slice of life. Around three chapters left? If you want more stories with Cozy as a guard please take any of the ideas here. Please. We need more Golly stories. Okay enjoy!

I have no regrets other than not crushing Twilight when she was down. But if I had to have one for today, maybe I should've waited a few more years for revenge and not have tossed an agent off a pier.

Cadance’s instructions were as clear as that crystal hornhead’s skull: get Flurry a treat. So, it’s a hot day, and we’re at the seaside. Would it hurt if I got her an ice cream? No, of course not. She’s a mare. A spoiled mare, but a mare. And I pretend to care for this mare. So, I walk across the pier and follow the trail of happy dessert-carrying foals.

The only thought I should have is: how many flakes would Flurry want? After all, she is a very fat—I mean, big—wait, no, why am I being polite? She’s Princess-sized. But as I walk past carnival games and light-weight rides of screaming grandparents, I notice a couple of things.

The Sister’s agents, or more accurately: Canterlot’s agents, are in every corner I cross, behind stands, leaning on the rails, sitting in the rides next to intimidated creatures. And they’re all eyeing me with a hoof to their earpiece or a leg out to read their fancy watch. My guard friends aren’t here. Two are busy slacking off on a cloud. The other two are defending the carriage and the fifth is still holding Cadance’s umbrella.

I am alone and surrounded.

My target is in front of me: an ice cream stand run by a griffon in a fez. I should try to hurry. A line of customers stood in my way. Guess there’s no other option.

“Excuse me!” I say, using the broad side of my wing to push a colt climbing onto a stool to reach the counter. “Official agent of royalty coming through.” I look at the griffon, sharp-eyed. “Sir, I need your very bestest strawberry ice cream. Three scoops, with jam sauce, and a wide cone, and two flakes.” My hoof slams the counter. “Princess Flurry Heart demands it!”

He looks at me, talons interlocked under his chin. “Alright.” His voice is deep and lacks humor, and despite as the fez implies, had a hint of country. “You happen to be lucky, pegasus. I only have three scoops of our ‘very bestest’ strawberry flavor left.”

“Aw,” whines the colt, “but I wanted a—”

“Shush! How much, Mr. Ice Cream Creature?”

He plops a third scoop and adds a layer of syrup. “Twelve bits.”

“Twelve bits?! That much? You’re not charging me extra because I’m from Flurry, are you? You should know there’s probably a law against that.”

“Read the sign.” He points up. “Just market prices for this level of quality”

The menu above really does say twelve. Could be enchanted, but if not…

Golly, I thought. “Gosh,” I say instead. “Jeez, what has happened to my Equestria? Twilight’s economy, am I right, kid?” I nudge him.

But there’s no colt. Instead, I had nudged an agent on the tie.

I pull an extra ten bits out from a pouch taped inside my body plate whilst staring at my reflection through the agent’s shades.

I ask the agent, “Are you going to order something, or…?”

No response. No movement. Not good.

I slide the bits over the counter.

“Oh, come on,” complains the griffon. “You really have to toss it to the floor?” He counts one-by-one the number of coins.

“Aren’t you a griffon?! I passed you more than twelve! Your eyes are supposed to be better than mine.”

“Can’t make those generalizations anymore,” the griffon says, still counting. “Twilight’s trying to connect our species.”

“Well—” I look back. There are two more agents leaning against the railings behind me. “—Eye anatomy isn’t really analogous to something like coat color or...” I watch as one of the agents behind levitates a bucket of water from over the pier. “...I mean, who is Twilight to be talking about these sorts of things? Having a school for something as basic as Friendship run by ponies? Like other creatures need our help? And she assigns her own friends as teachers and now it's being run by a covert and overt narcissistic couple? Bit of a purple-pony’s burden situation going on there, wontcha say?”

“I guess,” says the griffon, applying two rich flakes onto the scoops. “...You know I’ve actually got a condition where I’m color-blind for yellow. Frankly, I can’t tell a lot of you ponies a—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! That’s really sad. Say, can I have my ice cream now, please? Uh, Flurry Heart’s ice cream?”

“Sure.”

I grab the cone. But his ice cream scooper is still attached. As I try to walk away, he pulls out the strawberry scoops, leaving me only an empty cone.

“Oh, come on!”

“Sorry,” he replies, taking my cone and putting the scoops back on.

I wait, and wait, and pounce!—only for him to pull my ice cream back.

“Oh my hoofness!” I drag my eyelids, and shout through my teeth, “Just give me my flipping ice cream!”

My hind legs and wings start to climb over the counter as the griffon keeps denying me my ice cream which I paid extra for!

He passes me my treat upside down, only to steal my scoops as they fall. He gives me my treat back only to trade it with an empty cone. He then places, upside down, his full cone on top of my empty one, and pulls his upwards, stealing my cone as well!

One particularly high hum of magic twitches my ears as the two of us battle, not only with my hooves and his claws, but also our wings.

My back is facing the wall when—splash!

The Griffon looks at the agents, water dripping from his back.

I snatch what’s mine and leap through the door. But to my side stands an agent, with a gun—a water gun. I duck. A stream of water hits my helmet’s crest and falls onto the floor. The agent’s second shot is halted by my buck. Their gun gets knocked into the ocean.

I have to get out of here.

My hooves skid across the floor as I turn the corner and kick myself into a low aerial dash. But everywhere I look, every corner I zip past, has a shadow hosting an agent. The reflections of their undershirts and shades marks me with panic. They want revenge. How petty!

But Seraph can’t be fearful. She’s a character of Cozy Glow, and Cozy Glow never felt fear. Besides maybe a hooful of times, possibly, maybe.

My wings spread out just in time to see a water balloon pass by half an inch from my face. This agent has a fully loaded slingshot.

I lean on an outside table at a restaurant. “Need to borrow this, filly.” My teeth grab onto a plastic plate and I bend towards the floor and spin, let go, and—Smack! That’s one agent down.

The filly, holding a slice of cake, cheers me on. But I can’t bow now.

Agents already have me surrounded. Hollow steps emanate from the top of the restaurant. An agent has a gun pointed down at me.

My body enters flight mode.

I gallop past crowds of creatures, a wing holding my ice cream. Agents litter my path, hiding under the counters of stalls or in gaps between any two buildings so tight that an Abyssinian would struggle not to get stuck. There’s no space or mercy for my wings to unfold so my legs are all I have for mobility.

A squirt of water shot from over a food menu: I limbo under the stream. A water bullet shot from between the planks on the floor; I stomp until I hear a slash. A pegasus—wait, is that a guard from my squad?!—body-slams a cloud, releasing a pillar of water:

My hamstrings pull the emergency brakes, bringing me to a sit. Once I reach a complete stop, I pull a stray Ocellus and place her under the torrent. Her birthday balloon flies up and knocks the pegasus off her cloud. The changeling’s face is a permanent gape without any blinks.

My ice cream is still safe. I adjust a leaning flake and use a feather to taste a drop of syrup. My lips form a whistle and I blow the melting edges with my frosty breath—something, something, pegasus lungs are made for high altitudes, air cools as it expands through a tight nozzle, can of air analogy—Science!

Thump. Thump. Thump: I hear hollow steps.

The greenest teal, golden eyes under front-leaning shades, and a lyre cutie mark. Oh. My. Golly. All unicorns are psychos but this one’s a real schizo. Her marriage shared the opposite page in the newspapers the day I was turned to stone. Those two and that derpy mailmare. How dare they share my newspaper! At least the helmet her partner stole from my good friend Scootaloo doesn’t have a slot for horns. I swear, those things irradiate away the prefrontal cortex!

I dash towards the end of the pier, tail sliding past the unique shape of Lyra’s aura: a giant sort of claw with five round digits.

Several water balloons chase me. I roll and yaw out of the way of the projectiles. But because of my wingspan, I’m forced to front flip into a gallop. The roof has too many hazards. A wall of creatures blocks most of their throws. There in the distance, I spot my prize: the ocean. All I need now is to jump over the railings and fly against the wind.

Thirty-five meters. Thirty. Twenty-five. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten.

Everything turns slow as I trip.

Like that day twenty years ago, all my eyes can fix on is Luna’s smile. Her hind leg is sticking out. She had tripped me. The Princess, cosmically indifferent to my pain, turns her head away, whistling, and goes back to playing on an arcade machine.

Lyra locks me in her golden hue.

To my side stands a physical game stall. Shoot the target with a counter-attached water gun a ridiculous amount of times and win a Kludgetown-made plushie of… Cozy Glow? I thought they burnt all of those… Honestly, I'm not even too disfigured. Don’t know why they made me look so punchable or like a bumblebee throwing a tantrum, but—wait, focus!

I lean to my side and kick the air to try to get an inch closer. My wingtip spins the water gun around its axis until it’s pointing at the approaching psycho. I press the button to shoot, lips manifesting a smirk.

Not even a drip shoots out.

“...What, you have to pay if you’re not even playing?” I say.

“Why would you not?” Lyra asks.

“I don’t know, maybe to test out the game?” I reply.

“How does that make money?” she asks.

“Exactly! That’s all ponies chase nowadays. Bits, bits, bits! How in Equestria can anypony find happiness being so greedy? Some creatures need to learn how to live.” I turn to the stall owner. “How could you do this to me? You don’t deserve those plushieEE—”

But before he couldn’t answer my question, Lyra drags me away.

You’ve doomed me, Luna. You’ve doomed me.

---

Lyra brings me to a part of the pier where no stall stands to my left or right, railing to railing. However, perpendicular to the major axis of the pier, two stalls are opposite each other. The empty space resembles the letter “H,” and we were at that bridge between the two paths. Creatures seemed to avoid the helpless guard being bullied by a mare over twice her age.

I mean, look at her eye bags. Now look at my cheeks. How can you ignore this?

I need to come up with something, or I’m a goner. Come on Cozy! This is Lyra Heartstrings. You have to know her weakness.

…

Well, she’s not really a celebrity.

Focus! My brain’s a steel trap. There has to be a useful news article with info somewhere in my perfect memory.

“Lyra!” I shout. “Look! It’s a~ whatcha call it! Y’know the featherless creature with the Tirek grabby thingies and the tiny~ oh you-know-what—ears! Eyes? Brains.” Lyra’s not turning. “Look behind you! It’s a portal to their dimension! Oh noooo—it’s closing. Bzzzzzzz. Oh gosh, it’s closing. Better turn around.”

Lyra finally turns her head. But I was still in her aura.

“I don’t see a portal,” Lyra says, unamused.

“Oh boo, you’ve missed it,” I say. “But keep looking! They might see you’re interested and think: ‘Aw gee, we really gotta go back for this pony. She’s such a fun mare. So smart and with such great tastes in hobbies, and occupation, and other mares.’”

“Yeah—” Lyra turns back. “—I’m not that stu—Ow, Fuc—ouch!”

My dart strikes the base of her neck. How could she put me next to a dart-throwing stand?

I’m free from her grasp. All I have to do now is jump over an edge—any edge. There are two railings to my sides. I rush for the one further from Lyra, gaining lift as my wings extend out. I’m about to fly off—until I’m grabbed.

An earth pony agent, dripping wet, jumps me from over the railing. Her muscles are tough from climbing one of the pier’s beams. Beige coat. I flutter but Bonbon bites my tail, and I resemble a panicked chicken tied by the leg. My feathers can be weapons at high speeds, but these actions occur between tenths of seconds. There’s no space for me to charge.

I twist myself to face her. She grabs my tail with her hooves as well and swings my head to the rusty railings.

Who would’ve thought this helmet would be anything other than a heavy decoration?

Bonbon locks her forelegs around my shoulder joints and my wings.

I push one of my rear legs through the empty space between the rails and try to pull myself up. Steady, Cozy. I firm a different hoof against the floor and try to stand. My combat style is tuned to deliver kicks at Mach speeds, not steadily lift. But I am a Mare of Will. I could bench press Flurry, probably. My only issue is this pony not giving up. Her weight rises as more of her gravity gets forced through my poorly positioned legs. And I win a centimeter! Her butt is off the ground by a centimeter! All I have to do now is—

She lifts and buckles her hind legs around my waist. My belly gets squeezed. And she bites into the brush of my helmet before I can bash my head back. Useless piece of metal!

Clip. Clop. Clip. Lyra’s steps sound extra angry now.

Bonbon sits up straight and keeps me facing my dementor. Her hind legs clamp onto my stomach deeper than my ribs as she notices Lyra holding, in her five-pointed aura, a dart.

Lyra lowers her head to my temple and wears a sickly grin. Facing me, she points the dart awfully near my eyes. “Where were you aiming this for?” she asks through her teeth and smile. “Originally, when I was turned back?”

“...He, he. Nowhere! I hit my target! I was just waiting for you to turn around, actually...” My ears are drooping. That never happens.

Bonbon contains my heightened thrashes as Lyra’s aura extremity tosses the darts in the air. She grabs it with her claw-thingy and tilts the construct back. Instincts force my wings to form a shield, but nothing lower than my carpal joints are free, so I can only hide under vane-made bars of primary feathers.

Seconds pass by without pain. I take the risk of peeking.

Lyra throws her dart.

But she catches it again. The needle hovers a centimeter from my cornea mound.

Lyra laughs. “You really think I'm gonna blind you just because you tossed Bonbon off the edge?”

The needle is still so close, I’m scared blinking will throw it off course. My chest and feathers are ruffled.

“C’mon—” She pinches my cheek with her yellow… thing. “—kicking Bonnie into the water is a classic!”

“He he…”

Lyra throws the dart again. My ears shoot back up. She strikes a dartboard. Then she takes the dart back and tries again. And again. And again.

“Lyra, it’s the posture,” Bonbon says, sounding grumpy. Wonder what got her in a bad mood.

“What do you mean ‘my posture?’” Lyra asks. “I’m using magic.”

“Well, maybe don’t then? You do know even mages need good posture, right Lyra?”

My wings try to fold. The sensation of my feathers should blend in with the wind. All I have to do is act slowly. And bite my time. And wait for the perfect opportunity between having enough of myself free and not having these ponies realize to be able to perfectly—Jump!

Bonbon's seat hadn’t even budged from my attempted escape. Golly, what do they feed earth ponies?

“There! Bullseye!” Lyra says, a dart perfectly in the center of the target.

Bonbon pulls a hoof across my face to smack herself. “Lyra, you threw that an inch away. That doesn’t count.”

“Oh, whatever.” Lyra dismisses Bonbon with a wave and presses on her earpiece. “Ptz! Target has been immobilized. Bring in the instruments, over.”

I gulp. “The uhh… what?”

Lyra walks over and nods at a creature behind the corner. With her magic, she pulls out a whole assortment of weapons, each in her golden hue suspended in a wavy grid. She verbalizes her thoughts on each one, naming and laying to me every grotesque detail she remembers. And reveals to me just how badly she’s sick in the head.

“Ooo, water hoof-guns.” Lyra spins a pair around and points them in various directions. “Mobile, light, perfect for dual carry… You know, your pupils make your eyes look like two large targets. They're so red, nopony would be able to tell if they were bleeding.”

I lean back into Bonbon. She twists my head and looks into my pleading eyes.

“...Her irises are red, Lyra,” Bonbon says. “Not her pupils.”

“…” Lyra points the water guns at Bonbon.

“Do it,” Bonbon dares.

Lyra’s muzzle scrunches as she battles with herself. She lowers the guns to the floor. “These things are cheap anyways.” She drops the guns. “Let’s see what else we have!”

Her horn pulls out another weapon. It looks to be made out of two foam cylinders: one long one, on top, attached to a second one that has an equal height and circumference. Lyra saunters to the railings and ducks the flat tip of the weapon inside the ocean.

I could hear the rod-shaped lung of the device fill up by suction. The mad mare must’ve used an auditory spell just to make my coat hairs stand on end.

She reels the weapon back up. “I’m not sure what these things are called, but look at how the handle sticks out. One push and all the water inside goes spewing! How fast it goes depends on how much force I use.” She shoots the weapon at the sky. The stream reaches the height of a streetlamp before splattering down between my hind legs. Water drips under the cracks. “D’aww, are you scared? We haven’t even started yet.”

Bonbon bites off my helmet as Lyra pulls up her weapon, refilled. The mouth of the weapon delivers my brow’s ridge a sloppy kiss as Lyra positions it as well as herself. She turns around and stretches her hind leg, ready to deliver the weapon’s handle a buck. My pupils constrict. “Flurry, please, if you can hear me… Twilight...”

Lyra’s rear hooves are touching each other, concentrating on a single point, as her front bends down and carries her weight. I close my eyes and bite my lips into a seal.

“...No,” Lyra says, standing normally. “Muy fácil.”

She goes back to her grid, and inspects the nozzle of each weapon, checking for narrowness and barrel length. “Hmm… Perfect!”

“Check this out, foal-face,” Lyra says. “The Super Soaker CPS 2000: the most powerful water gun ever placed on the toy store shelves. This baby can shoot at a rate of thirty ounces a second and has a range of fifty-three feet.”

“Hooves,” Bonbon corrects.

Lyra rolls her eyes. “No pony has a hoof that long… Fifty-three hooves. It has a range of fifty-three hooves.”

Gosh! That’s eight-hundred-and-fifty milliliters a second and sixteen meters!

“They had to take this soaker off the markets because of ‘injured children’ and ‘eye damage.’ Man, do parents love to ban fun?”

Bonbon takes a moment. “...How is this less easy than using the other weapon?”

“Is that what ‘muy fácil’ means?” Lyra asks, aiming the gun at my head. “I don’t even know what language that’s in. I just heard it in a show and thought it sounded cool.” Her eyes go back down and she notices my leg reaching for the cylindrical weapon she dropped.

I awkwardly smile.

Lyra kicks away my hope. Her grip around the trigger glows brighter. “Any last words, Albino?”

“…” I took a deep breath, eyes transfixed at a point.

And I blow into the tip of the weapon. Pressure builds inside my lungs. Have I invited a clean shot to the roof of my throat? Lyra tilts her head at my foolishness. But I feel a sound through my lips. My teeth clutch onto the weapon and I force my head downwards. The cap on the top of the tank pops off.

Lyra is shot in the face.

“Lyra!” Bonbon cries.

I free my wings to push against Bonbon’s neck. As nimble as a pegasus with a soldier’s haste, I slip under her crossed hind legs then roll onto my belly. The earth pony pounces me as I try to fly. She bites my tail and her hooves slide up to railings. My wings flutter into a blur, beating more times a second than a hummingbird foal. Bonbon tugs my tail—that actually doesn’t feel too bad on my spine—but I’m on the floor, and she tackles over my back.

She grabs the cylindrical weapon—full—and points it to the back of my head. But my hind legs are in a position where I’m able to stand against the floor and knock the pony off. I jump to the pile of the grip of devices Lyra dropped. From the pile, I pull my Excalibur: a weapon identical to what Bonbon has but of a polar color—and empty.

Bonbon shoots a jet of water at my chest. I use the side of my foam rod to block the attack. Now both of our weapons are empty. And there lies Lyra’s soaker on the floor. From the light passing through the tank, we can tell it still has juice.

The earth agent and I battle with our blades. My stance: swift, aggressive; I poke her muzzle and retreat my front leg back to slash up at under her jaw. I don’t have my helmet, and my horseshoes are on the beach, but I still have my body armor.

Bonbon seems to be immune to my attacks. Maybe her suit has padding. Her offensive is forceful. I use my wing to block a smack to my sides, but my whole body moves along with her hit. I’m at a bipedal position, hind hooves skating over the floor. As I stagger backwards from a blow and recovering, Bonbon throws her weapon against my equipped hoof. She jumps to the soaker before either of our weapons hit the ground.

I command my wings to create a gust. The soaker is blown away from Bonbon’s grab—and so are our falling weapons. The two foam cylinders move to hit her in the head and chest.

Before she can recover, I dash and grab the soaker. Flying upwards, I point the weapon at Bonbon.

Bonbon sighs. She turns around, eyes refusing to meet me.

“Your reflexes are real sharp,” I say. “Is that what sharing a room with a lunatic does, Bonnie?”

“Please don’t call me that,” she replies.

“I can relate that sentiment.”

I close my right eye. I aim the soaker. I fire.

Only a few drips leave my weapon. Bonbon’s upper eyelids are flat.

“...Does this thing not work?” I ask, shaking said thing around.

Bonbon takes a few steps to the side. But after a while, she says, “Do you not know how to charge a water gun?”

“Pff! Of course I do.” I check to see if any part of the weapon is loose or missing.

“You need to pull the bottom part back and forth,” Lyra says, who has a soaking red tissue in her nostrils from when the cap of the soaker blew off.

“Lyra!” Bonbon shouts. “Also, wow guard! You’re really throwing plates, stabbing ponies, and giving mares nosebleeds because of water? I should to speak to Cadance after this.”

“You won’t be speaking if to anypony if I!…” The gun still isn’t shooting. “What do you I have to do again?”

“Move that handle on the bottom up and down,” Lyra says.

“Uhm…”

“Like this.” Lyra summons her magical claw-thing to form a loose fist and performs a crude up-and-down motion. A few parents cover the eyes of their foals. “Just stroke it up and down and it’ll shoot the string.”

“...” I detach myself from Lyra’s toy. “Whatever. I’m so far above this.”

“You’re really not playing dumb?” asks Bonbon. “You don’t know how to use it?”

“Gosh, your foalhood must’ve sucked,” Lyra says with a grin.

I open my mouth to retort. Splash! I got shot in the back.

Not by Bonbon. Not by Lyra. Not by some other agent.

“Hah!” Lyra laughs. “You just got owned by Sunbuuuu—rincess Celestia!”

Celestia licks her own ice cream as she lets go of Lyra’s first chosen weapon: one of the small plastic guns. “Seems I’ve won, sister.”

Luna stands over the soaker, picks it up with her magic, and reveals to me how it’s charged. “I must ask, Softie—”

“Pff! That’s her name?” Lyra laughs.

I say, “It’s a—”

“—why exactly are you fighting with our security?” Luna finishes her question.

“...I don’t know why,” I say. “All I was doing was buying an ice cream, and all of a sudden, a hundred ponies in black suits show up trying to soak me!”

“And you kicked me into the water for no reason before that,” Bonbon adds.

“...You’re referring to this ice cream you dropped?” Luna asks, levitating, in a cold blue bubble, the treat I got for Flurry.

“I did see from afar that you tripped her, Luna,” Celestia says.

“I was, uhh, couldn't resist but attempt to remedy the situation,” Luna replies.

Celestia licks the vanilla around her lips. “I did ask a few of our agents to get me the most popular flavour of ice cream from that griffon’s stand. Could that have caused it?”

I admit, “I did get the last scoops... I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

This job is turning me into a crazy pony. Did I seriously just apologize to Celestia? Over being earlier than her for an ice cream?!

“It’s fine,” Celestia says. “Vanilla is an underrated flavor. If you want to give this to Flurry, it’s probably best you give it to her now. We’re about to have a proper meal soon.”

Celestia passes me Flurry's treat, perfectly preserved, still with all the flakes and syrup, and not a drop had leaked to the bottom tip of the cone.

I fly over to a path along the rails where Celestia and Luna couldn’t see me from their angle—and I pull down an eyelid and stick out my tongue at the two agents.

Sure, I might’ve, debatably, lost the battle, but I've won the war!

Lyra grabs the gun from Luna and takes aim.

I ran away giggling only to hit a wall and fall into a yellow portal on the ground.

And it's not Lyra's yellow.

Comments

[Communist_Egor]

Thanks for the interesting prequel! Cozy's funny adventures on the beach turned out great. But I'm looking forward to the continuation of the Dawn Adopted story!

[asdtroi8895]

Seems that being a bodyguard in this universe carries risks beyond mere combat. Nice to see Cozy's skills though.