A permanently disqualified Babs Seed from the Pony Boxing Federation. A down-on-his-luck Button Mash with his heart broken and his future gone, forced move to Manehattan. Babs Seed offers him an avenue to boxing, and she be his coach.
Babs Seed made bad decisions in the ring and took the punishment for it. Having no job, a terrible reputation and a bitter outlook on life decides to exploit a stallion who has been taken for all he's worth; Button Mash. He's lanky, very competitive, has been shattered by his ex-girlfriend's actions, his dreams closed on him, and he's dirt poor.
Having been forced to move back to Manehattan, the cowardly stallion is given a chance on a new life, albeit a very violent one for his tastes. Can he overcome fear and face the stallion across him without crying for mercy, or will he return to his life as a no-life loser with nothing going for him?
The only time Button had truly ever felt hopeless was when the GameTrot downtown in Ponyville closed when he was about twelve. Or, when that time his friend Rumble accidentally destroyed his backup JoyBoy, which the first one was already destroyed to begin with. Not to mention being grounded for something he was framed for. These are all things that fester in a young stallion's mind, morph him into a "traumatized" colt, and then grow up to get over it. These scenarios that already happened were easy to get over, move on and mature from. It was life, and a life Button had no problems with. He enjoyed this life.
However, Button wasn't one to 'get over' things like this. He wasn't one for holding grudges, per se, but he was one for never forgetting the smallest, most ridiculous scenarios and having a problem with it. He didn't judge anyone by their character (save for a few bullies) and he never isolated anyone based on an accident or what they did wrong. No, he really liked to just talk it out and repair what was damaged. This, however, wasn't repairable, not for him. Not by a long shot. This wasn't an oopsy-daisy neither; this was a huge, huge deal.
Even as he sat there with his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes puffy and red. Even when his knuckles underneath the layer of fur turned white, or his nostrils flared more wide than normal, he couldn't help but wonder; Can I even.. forgive her? Was this a dream?! A stupid, fake dream that just wants to ruin my life!?! No, it wasn't. He pinched himself on the arm to make sure, as he was fairly superstitious about his notoriously bad luck in life.
He smacked the steering wheel, roaring for a few moments before slamming his head on the horn of his steering wheel, not bothering to let it off as the car screamed bloody murder in the street of the neighborhood he was currently parked in. The car felt bad and was only screaming to make sure he wasn't alone, which was a lie.
Button Mash felt terribly, terribly alone right now.
The car continued to scream murder, choking itself to a halt when he raised his head off it, hitting it on the head cushion of his seat. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth as tears started lining themselves down his tear-stained cheeks once again. He labored his breathing, the same hand that struck the steering wheel doing it five more times in harder, fist-clenched poundings. Button hated this, he hated what this felt like. Button's mind raced over things like these. That.. whorse! That isn't.. nice to say- but- that WHORSE! Why?! There was no reason- I thought it was good, it was fine! I thought it was peachy-keen clean!
It wasn't that he really hated her, he just hated her for what she did.
It isn't every day you walk into your friend's house to see his you-know-what in your fillyfriend's you-know-who.
Button slammed his head on the twelve-o-clock of the steering wheel, scratching his head furiously. He was hell-bent on trying to scratch that memory out of his brain. Sadly, no matter what he did, it only seemed to burn more. The more he scratched, the more crystal clear the details became. She wasn't drugged, she wasn't intoxicated- this was pure willingness to cheat on him. It made it all the more worse when she even tried to apologize afterwards. Their names were already deleted in his phone, he checked.
His throat hiccuped as tears continued to pour down his face.
Sweetie Belle
Rumble
They were gone, gone for good. It was over, all over. Button could only ask himself as he stopped scratching his head, instead grabbing it and thinking over and over. Why isn't it going away?! Why isn't it going away?!? The excruciating emotional struggle that festered like a tornado in his brain, flinging all good memories of him and Sweets to the wind, watching their happiness and nostalgia fling away into the distance, the deep confines of his brain locking them in tight. What did he do to deserve this? Was he not good enough? Was he not good down there? Was he even worth it? What was wrong with him to make her do this to him?
Questions swam in his brain as he exhaled a long, long sigh. He finally had recuperated enough through blurry vision and tickling cheeks from the dropping tears to take his keys out of his pocket, put it into the ignition, and turn them. The car churned to life, his eyes in that moment no longer flashing happiness or even innocence, rather, they were just eyes. There was nothing emotionally connected to them. It was like seeing a business pony walk by you in Manehattan, just dead to the world and only focused on their work or whatever they were thinking. Never stopping to check on you or say hello, only listening to their phones or walking very fast with papers flying out of their overstuffed briefcases.
Button Mash told himself he wouldn't become like those people, like his father, or brother. He didn't want to be those two, and his mother supported his decision, as well as support his brother's decision to follow in his late father's hoofsteps. Speaking of which, when he finally put the car into drive to accelerate out of the neighborhood, away from Rumble's house, away for good, he asked himself another question as he wiped his eyes of tears and fought more from coming out. What would Dad do?
His question would never be answered. Frustration screamed in his skull, rattling his bones to a shaking anger as he turned onto the main street towards an intersection. Overrated, generic pop-rock played on the radio as he sat there, staring ahead towards the light, just waiting for it to turn green so he could go farther away from this hell. The light didn't change, making Button continue to stare at the light, losing himself in his thoughts as the whiney-sounding singer continued screaming his heart out over the instrumental. His finger tapped impatiently on the steering wheel as time ticked.
The screaming stallion grated on his ears long enough, he mused bitterly. He turned the radio dial to another station. This station had some more generic hip-hop playing. His ears twitched as his angry taps on the steering wheel morphed into slightly less angry, but on beat taps on the steering wheel. Button sighed again, his body becoming slightly less tense. Unknowingly to his left, a distinct mare was adding extra make-up on herself with the built-in mirror in the lip gloss's container. If he had bothered to look, he would've spotted none other than Silver Spoon being that mare.
It took her only a few moments, recognizing the uncharacteristically brooding stallion to her right, an eyebrow cocked in confusion before the light turned green. His car began rolling away from her, stealing her attention for a few seconds before the beeping horns of cars behind her stirred her attention. She drove forward, quickly reaching for her phone to text her group of friends about his strange behavior.
Button Mash continued on, leaning his left arm on the door's arm rest. He rested his head on his palm, his other hand steering lazily as he thought the entire situation out some more. Am I just.. not good enough anymore? Am I just bad looking? She wouldn't of gone out with me if I wasn't good looking.. maybe I did something wrong? Maybe I made her do that? WHAT DID I DO?
It was never what she was or what she did at the time, only what he could've possibly done wrong. Button Mash just thought like that for most of his life. Even when he was crossed, betrayed, humiliated, cheated on, the list goes on. He never thought of how it was their fault, only how it was his. He was strangely selfless in this aspect, and it was extraordinarily unhealthy.
Button wanted to hit something. He wanted to destroy something, wreck something, damage something. He breathed hard in his snout and out of it as he straightened his back and weirdly put his hands both ten-and-two on the steering wheel, stretching his arms as he leaned back in a vain attempt to stifle his growing anger. Remember when Button Mash mostly thinks about how it was his fault? Luckily, this wasn't one of those times.
"WHAT THE FUCK RUMBLE!" He roared, stomping his foot that wasn't on the gas pad. "WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING FUCK!"
His eyes wild, he switched lanes to turn off of the road and onto the back roads that parted off this street into his rundown neighborhood. Ever since Dad died about ten years ago, when Button was probably six or seven, the family's money dropped pretty bad. There was no more two-story house in Manehattan next to everypony else, where he could have fun and be a normal colt. The funeral was changing, the city-to-rural-town exchange was changing, and the sight of his Mom breaking down every couple of months was especially changing for his brain. He learned quick that life wasn't fair and that being close to ponies wasn't a great option. They could die on you, and leave you with terrible pains that followed you the rest of your life.
Button added this scenario to the fresh file in his brain, 'Reasons to Not Have a Relationship'. Dying was also recently added in afterwards, followed by distrust and back stabs. Those came with the territory of cheating, sadly. His car began to rock gently as the dirt roads kicked up dust behind his car, something he'll never miss when he leaves this dumpster fire of a town when he's older. Leaning off the door, he grabbed the wheel with his left hand used his now-free right hand to fish into his pocket for his phone. Occasionally looking down at his phone but prioritizing the road, he dialed a number of a good friend, Spike.
He put the phone to his ear steering a bit more physically to keep control on the dirt road. His teeth became bared with an angry cringe after rerunning the dreaded scenario in his brain. At the same time, a car drove past him, going the way he came. The phone rang, letting Button collect his thoughts as he gave another strong sigh through his snout.
"Hello?" Spike answered. Button couldn't keep his composure.
"Spike- Spike, listen dude! I- I don- I don't know what to- what to do!" Button stammered, tears starting to sting his eyes ferociously again as Spike audibly scrambled to his feet to pace around his own room back in his house, concern in his tone as he slowed Button down.
"Chill! Chill! What happened, bro?"
"Sweet- Sweets cheated on me, dude!"
"WHAT?!"
"Y- Yeah! Fuckin'.. with.. with fuckin' Rumble!"
"RUMBLE?!"
The car rocked a bit as he drove, forcing him to refocus his mind on getting center in his lane on the dirt road. Spike fumbled with words, unable to form coherent sentences as he did this. Button glanced at his rear view mirrors for a second before looking down the road again.
"That's.. messed up, bro. Seriously, what?" Spike was clearly in disbelief, the beautiful ball out of left field striking him again with another friend's issues.
"Yeah Spike.. I- I don't know what to do, man! Sweets.. she.. why would she do this?! What did I do wrong? Was.. Was I not good enough?! The fuck do I do, Spike?!" Button moaned, not hearing Spike's answer as he had accidentally dropped his phone after hitting a not-so forgiving bump in the road. He groaned in frustration, slapping his hip with a balled fist before yelling out. "Hold on, Spike!"
He lowered down, reaching for the phone. He did not see the group of foals place a large log on the road to block it off. Button grabbed his phone, checking to make sure he was still calling Spike before sitting back up, phone on his ear. "I- I didn't," he sniffed, "hear you the last uhh.. coup- couple of seconds.." Button started. Spike began to speak before Button screeched out, "Say it agai- HOLY MOTHER OF CELESTIA!" Dropping his phone on the floor again to steady his wheel, Button also jammed his foot on the brakes. The car's wheels roared under the poor dirt road, the stress getting to the front tires as the driver-side front tire popped, sending him into a spinning frenzy as any junk, dust and dirt or just miscellaneous items flew everywhere. The worst was yet to come as it continued spinning violently and clearly without control towards the log, the foals quickly jumping out of the way as the unprotected rim unluckily jammed into the log.
The car screeched, turning over as it begun to spin up and over like it was in a washing machine. The entire world spun violently in Button's eyes as each bump caved the ceiling in further and further. The glass in each window turned to spiderwebs immediately, before just popping in a hurricane of glass that got stuck in his fur, underneath the seats, pretty much everything! His arms stiffened on the wheel as his eyes closed, the car continuing its barrel roll of terrible luck before it finally collided with something extremely harsh that Button couldn't really tell what was. Why he couldn't, well, his world was spinning and his head that was about to collide into the steering wheel and surely break his snout suddenly flushed out an airbag that sucker punched him right in the face, knocking him out cold to the world right before the underneath of the car caved up, awkwardly bending his leg to break it to cap off his string of terrible, terrible luck.
The foals that had ducked it slowly stood up, eyes wide and ears pinned. One of them, a colt, slowly pulled out his phone and dialed the emergency services while another gulped. "Uhh.. you'll have to pay.. to-.. to cross.. here..?"
Sweat soaked her fur, sinking into her very being. Her heart pumped, sending a shock wave of blood through her body along with a little touch of adrenaline to cap it off with. Her fur stood up on their ends alongside her eyes flaring open every once in awhile, even as she sat on the stool in her corner. The crowd cheered and jeered, cameras flashed and the spotlights remained on the ring.
Sitting there, she felt her mouthpiece be removed by a calloused hand, and in stepped her trainer. A portly stallion with a receding hairline and a thick moustache. He had a flashy jacket on, with her name written on the back in diamonds and reflective studs. He chopped the air passionately as he crouched in front of her, his eyes wild with only a trainer's type of wild.
"Babs- Babs, listen!" He roared over the crowd. "You aren't takin' the inside! She's got longer arms than you! You gotta take the inside 'n' bust her wide open! The ropes ain't your friend, but you sure as Tartarus're gonna make those ropes her friend!"
As he demonstrated with his hands in a faux fight, a stallion ran a cold press over her welting cheek, while sweet, sweet water gushed into her mouth. She swallowed, breathing heavily through her nose. Babs nodded as he neared the end of his instruction, cutting in; "You'se right, Hook. You'se right."
"Damn straight I am! Ya got eighteen minutes left, kid. Make'em count."
The mouthpiece found itself back in her mouth as she stared at Hook's eyes, reading his silent lesson. Knock her ass out.
The bell rung. The cry of the ring announcer of "Round nine!" thundered over the lively crowd. Tired, Babs found herself sitting up with a bit of numbness in her legs. Hook took a step to get off the ring, hesitating to look back at her. He grabbed her shoulder, getting her attention. "Watch that uppercut when ya duck! You've been gettin' hit by it too much!"
She nodded, looking back as he stepped under the ropes and out of the ring. The crowd seemed to quiet a bit, but still kept its relentless personality as she smacked her gloves together, sending a layer of sweat to go flying off of them. Her head burned with the stings of the previous punches afflicted to her earlier, but she was rearing to go for a ninth round. Her motor never stopped. She was Babs Seed, the Motor of Manehattan!
Ducking, she hunched over in her unorthodox guard position. Hunched back, pulled arms to her chest, and her head low and alert. Her opponent- challenger of Babs' belt -was a taller built mare of this weight division. Whereas she was stocky and short, and had power when she threw and toughness when she couldn't, this mare had range and the ability to out-maneuver her lesser reach. It had shaped up to be a tough fight for both mares.
So, she marched forwards. Her taut muscles flexing as she ducked low, left, right, and even upright. Her head moved unceremoniously, offering the taller mare, Quick Hit, no real way to conventionally time her off-beat rhythm as a fighter. Except she did. About three rounds ago.
Quick seemed to have a pep in her step, although she was heaving with a bruised jaw and a swollen left eye. She favored hopping on her left leg rather than her right, whereas her right leg was the lead leg until about four rounds ago when Babs hit her in the sweet spot on the hip.
Suddenly, Quick threw a jab out. A straight one, no warning. Immediately, Babs ducked down and felt the glove whiff her head. A rustle of air and her eye caught the approach of a fast-swinging uppercut from the other arm. Instinctively, she brought her arms up in a hastened cross guard to deflect the incoming strike. The jab pulled back, leaving her a window of opportunity to strike.
She reared her right fist back, squaring her legs. Suddenly, she sprang forward, swinging her right fist forward in a powerful hook to strike Quick's jaw. Except there was nothing to contact. Babs exhaled, crashing forward as she turned her back to Quick, giving her a perfect opportunity to strike back where it hurt.
Babs turned her head, not being able to react to the tight hook that knocked her back and rendered her ears to dull. Babs almost forgot she was fighting for a second. She felt her legs stumble back, and could only raise her arms in an attempt to keep some sort of defense up. Her arms swung to and fro from the impact of the harsh punishment, but she quickly planted her rear leg back and stabilized herself luckily. Immediately, the body of Quick did not walk away or remain still. It closed in on her, and fast.
She hunched her back, feeling the whooping air of a wild hook miss above, and cocked her head right, feeling another glove scrape her cheek. Huffing, she brought her left arm in for a tight punch to Quick's ribs, prompting the feeling of Quick's head to hit Babs' shoulder in pain. Knowing Quick was doubled over, only for a moment, Babs continued punching tightly into Quick's ribs and hips. The mare already raised her guard to protect her body, as her abs and hips screamed in tenderness.
Suddenly, Quick began to pace backwards. The crowd seemed to regain focus in Babs' ears as they cheered for the intense action. Emboldened, she straightened her back to pop up for a shot at Quick's head, who reared her head back just before Babs' shot to graze her snout. Again, Babs hunched over and drove her head into Quick's chest, charging her into the ropes all the way across the ring.
"HIT THE HEAD!" Hook roared over the crowd, instructing Babs. She took the advice, and she took it to damn heart. She rolled her head on Quick's chest, sending a few thundering hooks into Quick's head. She missed on the first one, but nailed her assumed-to-be jaw on the second one, sending Quick's body backwards into the ropes even more.
Immediately, Babs retracted her head from Quick's body, but still remained in her hunched pose. She straightened ever so slightly, punching very lightly at Quick's desperate guard on her head. She continued this steady, light rhythm before she sent a heavy, tight-winded hook into Quick's body again. Again, Quick doubled over and lowered her guard, giving Babs just enough time to send a straight jab into her opponent's head. Quick's head was sent back, an explosion of sweat wringing from her hair and shoulders. She crashed into the ropes again, sending desperate punches into Babs.
The punches struck their mark, but seemed to have no effect. Every hit Quick dished to Babs, Babs returned and then some. She'd hit Babs' face, and Babs would strike her head and body at least four times in return. "You ain't nothin'," Quick heaved as she retreated into a high guard. Babs replied by striking her body again. "This nothin' is kickin' you'se ass!" Babs growled. Immediately, the two gloves pushed Babs' shoulders, sending her backwards a few paces.
Undeterred, she smacked her gloves again to charge straight back in. "WATCH THE UPPERCUT!" Hook shouted.
Quick feigned a hook. Babs instinctively ducked, but her eyes widened as she saw the prophesized uppercut to hit her square in the face. She retreated backwards, bobbing and weaving in autopilot as Quick released a flurry of exhausted, but disciplined shots towards Babs' retreating form. Arms, body, head, anything that Quick saw was to be exploited. The crowd's volume seemed to pick up in excitement as Babs' legs desperately craved to give out. She refused.
"STAY ALIVE! STAY ALIVE!" Hook's screams were heard. Babs maintained a sporadic switching of back-and-forth shifts between the cross guard when she ducked and a loose high guard when she bobbed up. Most of the shots were deflecting, but the harsh punishment her head was taking was starting to hit her bad. She couldn't command her legs to plant as hard as she wanted to, but nonetheless continued bobbing and weaving underneath the assault.
Desperately she threw her signature left hook out, catching just enough of a glimpse to see Quick dodge it with world class head movement. Babs' body thundered forward from the momentum, her legs stumbling as if she was drunk. It was clear to everyone watching that she was hurt, and hurt bad. A dull impact of a jab hitting the side of Babs' head was ignored as she stumbled forwards, her rear leg swinging around tiredly before managing to just barely plant to keep her upright.
Her vision blurry, and head ringing a pitch she couldn't imagine she'd ever hear, Babs continued her miraculous survival. She had never taken such a dominating battering before, none of the other fights compared to this. She had to escape, do something, get away to recover-
Ding!
Round nine was over. The next round, ten, was coming soon.
Quick immediately retreated off of Babs' form, walking confidently (albeit a small limp) in her step as Babs stood straight, unbalanced. She took a glance over to her corner to see Hook quickly grab her and escort her to the stool that was waiting for her tired, exhausted form.
The mouthpiece was took out again, and she took the liberty to spit out a wad of saliva as she sat down. The usual cold press and water routine occurred while a wet rag ran itself across her face. Hook stood in front of her, shaking his head angrily. "You're lettin' that broad beat ya at your own game, Babs! Ya let tha uppercut knock your ass out of it! You're blowin' in, Babs! You are blowin' it!"
"I know- I- I know!" Babs stuttered, breathing heavily.
"Then why aren't ya watchin' out for this broad's uppercut? You ain't that dumb, and you sure as hell ain't undefeated fa no reason! The broad hit ya good in her type o' boxin' 'n' then took ta beatin' you senseless with your type 'o' boxin' 'cause you're too busy askin' for tha check from tha waiter!"
"I just- One good hit, Hook. Thhhh- that's all I gotta have 'n' need. Dat's it."
Hook stared at her, as the bell rung to signal the starting of round ten. "Take the wings off this butterfly, Babs." He placed the mouthpiece into her mouth and stepped out of the ring, alongside his crew.
Babs stood up, feeling the stool leave where it once was. She was still dazed, that much she could tell, but as long as she kept hopping her legs and staying low, she could knock Quick Hit out.
"Round ten!" The announcer cried.
Babs stepped forward as Quick strolled towards her. Quick wiped her bloody lip with a glove as she spoke, belittling Babs. "Tenth round, shorty. A wise mare once said, 'On this fifth of May, the Motor loses its gas on this highway! Ground and pound like an engine, it'll bob and weave until loses gasoline! Round ten is the end for this Manehattanite's trend.'"
"Nopony ever said you'se a wise mare. Or a smart one," Babs countered, raising her guard.
"They did say I was gonna beat ya, shorty. Come on, now. Hit me!" Quick replied, throwing a jab out tauntingly at her.
Babs smacked the offending glove away, returning a tight winded hook into the stomach of Quick Hit. Quick took the hit in stride, having thrown a cross punch right into Babs' head, sending it whipping back with a layer of sweat. Babs ducked, crashing her head into Quick's chest once again. The two thundered across the ring, until Quick was forced onto the ropes.
It seemed they were picking up where the beginning of last round started, with Babs chugging punches into the body before sending unexpected, strong punches into Quick's head.
It seemed that the established domination of Babs was solidified until Quick pushed Babs off and struck her with a dazing lead hook into her head, sending her pacing backwards a step or two. That step or two was all Quick needed, who threw punch after punch into the now retreating form of Babs.
"Stick 'em!" Quick's trainer roared. "She's gonna come back at you! Do not stand and fight!"
Quick's legs, uncharacteristically, did not move.
Babs' head popped, twisted and snapped around with each punch the taller mare dished out with a vengeance. She had to do something, at least wait for her arm to throw that stupid uppercut so she could end it! She ducked, narrowly avoiding a potential knockout punch before her heart stopped in anticipation. In the midst of sweat, moving bodies and the flashing of cameras she spotted the fated uppercut charging up at her face with a head of steam. She weaved her head left, the glove soaring past her head with a whipping of wind, causing Quick to lose balance as she had put everything she had into that punch.
Babs planted her feet, and squared her hips as she brought her left arm whipping around at breakneck speeds right into Quick's head. A boom, equivalent to a shotgun blast had filled the room as the crowd reacted accordingly. Quick fell to the canvas as the crowd got even louder.
Babs walked towards her corner, to a cheering Hook and others. As she had thought, the ref had waved the fight over as he assessed the knocked out form of Quick Hit. Babs' team stormed the ring to congratulate Babs, who raised her gloves up in victory and smiled a triumphant grin.
"Queen o' da world, Babs! You won!" Hook cried, hugging his tired disciple.
If only her world didn't come crashing down around her days later.
'Who, why and how did those foals think when they were putting roadblocks on that road for a scheme of cash?'"
Button certainly knew. It was to make his bad day go to worse. A day of an unexplained act of treachery, loss, grievance and then a big whopping sucker punch to add on top of his cake of dirt for his surprise bad-luck-day. All-in-all, a solid day. Even as he sat there in the passenger seat of Spike's ride, being released from the hospital with a fat bill that he was certainly going into debt for. His job that he was 100% sure on he was going to be fired from because of his incident, and the fact that the place he and.. she had rented in a plan to prepare for the future was now probably going to be given to her. Heck, he'll just keep all of his stuff there. He doesn't need it anymore.
"So," Spike rubbed his eye with a finger, watching the road. "I heard the whole story. And uh.. yeah, that sucks."
"Tell me about it," Button retorted, rolling his eyes. His left leg, if memory of direction served correct, was wrapped in a beautiful cast of bad memories, some medical stuff he can't remember probably because of the temporary lapses in memory the doctor had told him he'd get. Bandages. They're wrapped in some bandage thing he can't put his finger on, but he digresses. It's been a bad three days for the poor Button, who wiped his face with his hands. He was stressed, to put it short. Very stressed.
"Next exit should have a Hayburger. Get some of that beautiful Ponyville obesity kickin' in just to cheer you up, right?" Spike side eyed Button. "Start lookin' for a new job.. probably should look for a new place to crash at-"
"No need to pussyfoot, Spike. I know," Button groaned, cupping his own face with both of his hands. He massaged his face some more, as to him at that moment, it was the only choice of action he had left. Truth be told, Button had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't going to be his year. Started with that fight with Sweetie Belle during the whole celebration. Maybe that was the warning sign. He shouldn't of said those things, sure, but she said some awful things back! It was one of those fights that was just another building block to the relationship, he thought. Maybe it wasn't? He wasn't even so sure anymore.
The car drifted off towards the exit, stopping short of the intersection as the red light popped alight as they neared it. Spike took this time to relax his posture, sighing the weird tension in his muscles away as he looked over at Button with concern. "Dude, are you sure you're.. gonna be good? I- I know this whole thing is.." He rolled his hand, trying to find the word.
"Fucked," Button finished.
"Yeah.. that. I know it's all scrambled to heck right now, but the best time now is just to... think. Best course of action, get what I mean?" Spike said.
"I'm doing a lot of thinking right now. If I do even more thinking, I'll think myself into a coma." Button said.
"Alright, buddy," Spike murmured, accelerating the car as the light turned green. A couple of turns here, a few seconds of silence, and a grateful hum of Spike came as they turned into the parking lot of the Hayburger fast food joint. Colored orange, it had windows to see inside, and posters that clung to some of the windows that advertised their new specials. Taking logic over routine, Spike pulled into the drive-thru lane. He looked over at Button. "Whaddya want?"
"Just," Button removed his hands from his face. He looked at the oncoming menu. "Number four. Large, no pickles. I'm.. I'm that hungry anyways."
Spike nodded. "You got it, buddy."
As Spike ordered, Button reflected. Elbow on the door, hand on his chin, and a nice tree to stare out at in thought while the car was stopped briefly. What had he done to get this nightmare to start? What can he do to end it? No matter how much he ignored it, there was a hollow feeling in his chest. It wasn't your stereotypical hollowness of a dramatic person describing how empty they feel because they didn't get in line fast enough at the kissing booth for the class's resident whorse. It was something that resounded, beating like a heart and it only spread wider and wider that left a sour taste in his mouth. Something that made his cheeks sting and his stomach flip every so often. It shocked his heart every other beat, and tingled uncomfortably into his fingers that caused him to shuffle in his seat every once in a while.
The car slowly rolled forward. Button sighed through his nose, looking over at Spike who was tapping a claw idly against the wheel, looking through the windshield at the sky. The radio hummed a slow tune, turned down by Spike the second Button hobbled into the passenger seat at the hospital. Spike rolled his neck, glancing over at Button. They both blinked at each other before Spike gave a large sigh and reached into his pocket. "You want me to figure it out?"
Button's ears flattened against his head. He sunk deeper into his seat as he massaged his souring cheeks. "No- no.. Just, I don't know. I just need time. Something."
"Don't you have a cousin in Manehattan? I know your Mom isn't gonna-"
"I know, Spike. I closed that door a long time ago."
"Well okay, man. I can't- I can't have you at my place. Apple Bloom isn't a real fan of you since the wedding between Carrot Cake and Caramel."
Button scoffed, rubbing his forehead. "How was I supposed to know the cord was right there? It wasn't even taped to the floor, so when I turned the corner it was right-"
"I know! I know, Button. I've tried explaining, but she doesn't want to hear it. Scootaloo would probably love to take you in, but I'm fearing she'd do it out of revenge against Rumble more than anything." Spike said, nearing the first window as he retrieved his card from his pocket. "Rumble was her boyfriend too, you know. I don't know how it all happened, and I don't know what drove them to pull that, but you gotta relax."
"I never said I was gonna ask Scoots, Spike," Button replied. He leaned off the car door and instead opted to recline the seat back a bit so he could have some semblance of laying down, despite his few days of nothing but doing that. "Just need the food and time to think. A day or two to think, at least."
The car pulled up to the second window after Spike finished paying. He nodded his thanks and wished a great day to the worker as they gave him their bagged food and drinks. Placing the drinks into the cup holder and the bags of food by Button's wrapped leg, they rolled out of the lot and began driving on the road again. A few bumps in the road every now and then caused Button to grimace, but he nonetheless kept quiet and stuck to staring out of the window until Spike broke the silence.
"Maybe this is a good thing."
Button had to do a double take, placing his elbows on the reclined seat to lean up and stare at Spike with a smoldering glare. "That's the best thing you can come up with, right now? That's the words you thought were smart to say?"
"Sorry, sorry! It just sounded better in my head- I mean is that you and Sweetie Belle weren't in a good patch, yeah?" Spike asked, and Button's glare got even worse.
"You mean a few bumps in the relationship? Yes, Spike. Those happen. Not everyone can be perfect like you and Apple Bloom. Sweetie and I had our troubles, but we worked through them. I got her through her addiction to the stupid shit Tree Hugger was selling her at the back lot of that stupid Philly's Burgers place. She helped me get through my problems with my Mom. My Mom still has problems, but at least she put us on speaking ground. And now she does this? After everything?"
Spike seemed to deflate further and further as Button ranted. The stallion took to folding his arms and stomping his good leg every once in a while to emphasize something during his rant. He didn't know what, but he definitely knew Button wasn't Button right now. "Calm down, calm down-"
"Calm down? Spike, you want me to calm down? Do you even- don't you have any idea what any of this feels like?"
Silence. Spike stared at the road as he drove, and Button stared at the side of his head. With each second of silence, it seemed the vein of Button's forehead got bigger and bigger. They could've noticed cars driving by, or landmarks such as a castle or a few stores or restaurants. They could've noticed Button and Sweetie's favorite song playing on the radio, but they didn't. They remained like this the remainder of the drive to.. wherever they were going. Button didn't know.
Despite the same hostility in the air, Button relented his stance and resumed leaning back into the seat, staring out of the window with nothing but angry thoughts.
"..Sorry," Spike said.
"It's fine, I'm sorry too. I- I don't know, Spike. This is just.. I don't know what to do anymore. I.. I- I had something going for me for once in my life! I had it all! Why did Celestia throw this wrench? I- what did I do-.. I don't- Why?!" Button's anger broke into choked sobs, groans and whimpers. His arm left the window to gesture angrily before calming down into just grabbing his own face.
Spike's claw grabbed Button's shoulder, rocking it gently. "It's alr- It's not alright right now, but it will be alright. Wh- Whatever's gonna happen is gonna happen, dude. It's life, or something I guess."
Button sighed into his hands, dropping them back to their usual resting place, finger on his brow. "It's life," he murmured. Reaching down to the bag, he pulled out his hayburger and unpeeled the wrapper, digging into his fast food. Occasionally he gave Spike's food to him as he asked for it, but the next ten minutes of the ride was relatively quiet.
Was I ever good enough?
The hum of Spike's car disappeared slowly into the streets. Button had tossed the bag of scraps from the Hayburger into a nearby trash can, limping on crutches towards the Ponyville 5 Motel. Sparse cars parked in the lots, and the walls could use a nice power wash, but it was doable for Button's next few days.
It was a quick exchange. A card swipe and he was designated here for the next six days. A few mind-blurring hobbles later and he was at the nearest payphone, thumbing some leftover bits Spike gave to him into the machine. He settled one crutch down next to the telephone pole the payphone was attached to. 10 presses later, and the phone began to ring. It was the third chirp when it abruptly ended and a mare's voice erupted into Button's ear.
"Cream Heart's Daycare, this is Cream Heart, how can I help you?"
"..Mom," Button said tentatively.
Silence. Then, "Button."
"I- I just wanted to call you 'n' ask how you.. you were doing.. or something, I don't know," Button trailed off nervously.
"Well, something you haven't asked before. What do you want, Button?" Cream sighed.
"Nnn.. Nothing, Mom. I- I just wanted to talk to you.." He trailed off again, playing with the payphone's wire with a finger. "I- I don't know who t-.. I don't know, Mom. I don't know what to do!"
"What? What are you talking about, Button?" Cream said.
"Sweetie," Button almost dropped his other crutch. "Sweetie ch- cheated on me, Mom. I- I don't know what to do. I don't know if I lost my job- or- or if my leg is gonna be healed in ti-"
"Leg? Sweetie? Button, what happened honey?!" Cream was panicked, motherly instincts kicking in over past grudges for her baby boy.
"She cheated on me, Mom. She- She fucking cheated on me!" Button yelled, crying.
"Sweetie Belle cheated on you? Why? When?"
"A few days ago.. I got into a car wreck after it. I broke my leg, I'unno if my job has- has terminated me because I've been no-call no-show for a few days now.. I'm staying at a motel, I don't know what to do!"
Cream seemed to take a few seconds to gather herself, and her voice became hushed. "Honey, call me back in a couple days when I see how much I'll make this month. I can't take you in right now if that's what you're asking, so just hang in there for a few days so I can see how it can work. See if your brother can take you in for now. I'm so sorry, but I have to go."
"Go? What? Mom!? Mom?! MOM?!?" Button screamed as the dial tone droned into his ear with Cream's abrupt click. His eyes were wide, brimming with tears as he stared at the number pad on the payphone. The automated message telling him his call was over didn't even register to his brain. With a huge clunk, he slammed the phone into the machine. Wound up tension shook his core as he grabbed the phone again and smashed it again.
His teeth bared, Button let out a gurgled cry of frustration. The machine clunked and clinked in alarming ways as he kept smashing the phone into it over and over, each hit loosening that tight coil of stress and rage ever so slightly.
The phone, battered and dented into a useless piece of plastic, dangled besides the dented-in payphone. The number pad's buttons had popped off, sprawled all over the sidewalk. His fingers were bruised, some of the fur around his nails scraped off. It left gashes, dripping blood on the sidewalk as he haphazardly grabbed his unused crutch and began grimacing away from the scene.
A couple hours later found Button laying on his motel room's bed, staring at the TV. His face was dead of emotion, eyes glossed over as he stared into the screen. It was a random comedy special of some comedian he never bothered to care for. Cheese Sandwich? He was a lot more family-friendly than mature. Didn't make the jokes land hard enough for his own tastes.
Some joke about a balloon and a griffin had the audience laughing, but Button continued to stare without any words into the screen. Thoughts of JoyBoys, dad coming home, and Gibson teaching Button how to play the guitar flashed through his mind in stints.
He shimmied his hips to get more comfortable in the stiff bed, and that's when the channels flicked over. The TV blinked for a second, and then two stallions in trunks and boxing gloves were standing in the center of a ring. Uncountable rows of press, fans and other different crowds for this event sprawled all around them, no matter what camera angle. The stallion in the darker trunks was bruised, his left eye swollen shut as he kept his arms raised in an 'X' sort of stance, while the other taller stallion in lighter trunks continued to poke at his defense with stiff jabs.
A graphic below flashed FIGHT RECAP: GAP CLOSE VS TENDER TAPS while a narrator spoke:
"Tough fight last night for the contending Gap Close, who had some issue getting through Tender Taps' cross-guard, but he still pulled out a split decision victory just in time to try and take a swing at Pipsqueak's WBF belt for the lightweight division!
Button blinked, watching the fight's highlight with a disinterested look while the narrator continued to spout information he didn't care for. He yawned, slowly being lulled to sleep before a familiar blob of colors glazed his eyes back into focusing. It was a new graphic, BABS SEED: BANNED FROM COMPETING IN BOXING INDEFINITELY
"Huh?" He wiped his snout, straightening his back to lean in as the TV announcer spoke loud and clear:
"Babs Seed tested positive for a multitude of extremely illegal performance-enhancing drugs in her bout against Quick Hit! In response, the commission of international boxing has declared her to be banned indefinitely from ever competing again. She continues to swear innocence, but the tests never lie! What about it, Maximum Slander?"
Button blinked, the cogs in his brain churning with smoke as he tried to recall that name.
"Babs.. Babs.. Apple Bloom's cousin!" He said to nobody. "Wait..
