Applejack and the Four Turnbuckles Of Salvation
Saturday Night Slam Masters
Written By: Your Antagonist
Edited By: Aziraphael, Starwind Dood, Benny Brohoof and TheWattsMan
Applejack and the Four Turnbuckles of Salvation
Sometimes a pony just needs an outlet.
Jab, hook, weave-out, uppercut.
Rainbow Dash practiced flying to clear her mind, Rarity went shopping whenever designing and filling orders became too much of a burden, Twilight read books and wrote reports about how to better combat the stresses caused by reading books and writing reports, and Applejack had the wide, eccentric world of combat sports.
Thump! Pow! Whiff! Ka-thwack!
Time and repetition had shown that, while the farm-mare was certainly passionate about her work, her work was no longer her passion.
Jab, jab, straight.
Now, Applejack could talk for hours upon hours about apples...
Thump! Thump! Smack!
...and could harvest the fruit with stunning efficiency...
Weave-in, cross, crouch, uppercut.
...but years of the same old applebucking, day in and day out, had dulled her interest in the practice...
Whiff! Whack! Pow!
...and ultimately left her feeling stressed out...
Straight.
...unfulfilled and wound up...
Hook.
...confined...
Cross.
...with no way to cut loose or express herself...
Uppercut.
...and above all...
Weave back, plant the forehooves, pivot, draw in hindlegs...
...unable to meet a nice colt outside of the family.
Double leg powerbuck!
Applejack’s hind hooves connected with the heavy bag and sent the thing swinging about dangerously on its chain. Most fighters would have exercised caution towards something that weighed as much as their siblings combined, but Applejack wasn’t done yet. The massive thing was still swinging, and to her that meant that it could still stand to take some stress, quite literally, off her hooves.
She waited, intently watching the bag swing back and forth for an opportunity, and then she saw it. With a hop, a skip, and a jump, Applejack was airborne, on a direct collision course with the rogue training implement. Exactly what she was counting on. She drew her legs in close to her chest, and just a split second before contact, exploded them into the bag with an exceptionally meaty thump. As it turned out, several hundred pounds of force backed by years of pent up aggression was all it took to separate the nine-hundred pound bag from its chain and send it sliding across the training room floor.
Satisfied with the result of her efforts, Applejack’s lips pulled back into a smug grin that she managed to hold even as she hit the lightly carpeted floor, neck first. “Oooh... gotta remember to work on that landing...” she mumbled, panting heavily from the exertion. Struggling to sit, she wiped away a solid stream of sweat from her brow and took a moment to admire the stack of abused, heavy bags piled indiscriminately in the corner. “Woo-wee—huff— that must be some kinda new record!”
“Thought I’d find you down here,” a raspy voice called from the doorway. Applejack looked up to find the source of the voice in the form of a well-aged pegasus in a cheesy black suit. A pegasus that she recognized as her fight manager and the circuit promoter. “Geez, kid, you done destroying my equipment, or you want I should grab a bat so youse can finish the job?” he asked in that heavy Manehattanite accent she’d come to love hearing on these little escapes from life on the farm.
“Oh, shucks,” Applejack‘s face flushed a royal-gala red. “I’m mighty sorry about the bag, Mr. McMane. Guess I got a little too carried away with my warm-ups. I’ll have this whole place fixed up in a jiffy.”
“A.J, A.J, A.J, forget about it.” The older stallion gently ushered Applejack away from the fallen bag.
“But sir,” she protested. “I can—”
“Relax kid, we got other ponies to take care of this sorta thing. I’m just poking some fun at ya for doin’ a number on the...” He paused to scratch his chin in thought. “...what is this, the ‘leventh bag today?”
Applejack rubbed the back of her head sheepishly at the remark. “Heh, somethin’ like that.”
“You’se somethin’ kid, you know that?” McMane took a long, hard drag from the cigar. “Really wish you’d let me sign you on for a full-time contract.”
“Sir, much as I’d like to, you know I can’t.”
“Why not? You could travel all around Equestria...”
“That sounds nice, but I—”
“After a year, you’d have more bits than you could ever know what to do with...”
“I mean, I do like the money, but I’m just so bus—”
“You’d have your name up in lights almost everywhere you’d go— well, your stage name, but that’s not the point I’m—”
“Sir.” Applejack interrupted. “While that all sounds mighty enticin’, the family and the family business comes first I’m afraid.” Applejack pulled herself to all fours and shook her head somberly in declination. “Sometimes a pony’s gotta put their priorities first.”
“Heh.” McMane shrugged. “Well, you can’t blame an old promoter for trying, but I’ll get you to come around one day. You’ll see.”
Applejack smiled spryly at the old stallion’s persistence. “Sure you will... and that’ll be the day I lose my championship belt.”
“Feh, smart-flank.” McMane snorted. “You keep overworkin’ yourself down here and that just might be tonight. Make sure you save a little ass-whuppin’ for this bruiser you’re goin’ up against tonight, alright, kid?”
“Yessir, Mr. McMane, sir,” Applejack said dutifully.
“That’s what I like to hear. Now don’t lose track of time, I don’t wanna miss the chance to see you in action. Watchin’ you work makes me feel young again and what-not.”
Applejack rolled her eyes at the older gentleman’s ramblings. “Oh, quit your flatterin’ and get back upstairs, sir. If you ain’t up there, the staff won’t know their hooves from their hindquarters and then we’ll never get this show started. ‘Sides, I’d like to get changed already, iffin’ you don’t mind.”
The old stallion smirked his approval at Applejack as he trotted leisurely out of the training room. Once again the room was empty save for the farmer, her stress inducing thoughts, and a deficit of bags to take them out on. With a sigh, she chanced a quick glance at a nearby wall clock to find that she had only fifteen minutes before the first bell. “Guess I better just get to it,” she said, trotting towards her all but forgotten gym bag laying mere meters away from where the once proud, heavy bag had hung. She reached into the bag to withdraw her stage costume, or rather, the two pairs of patchwork nightmares she’d had the audacity to call kneesocks and chaps.
Pulling the first of the socks up and around her well-toned forelegs, Applejack couldn’t help giggling about what a certain fashion obsessed unicorn would think if she saw the farmer getting all dressed up like this. The terms “garish” and “unsightly” came to mind right alongside dozens of other nonsensical, ten-bit words the fashionista was prone to throwing around. Still, however much anguish it would have caused to Rarity’s always nitpicking eye, it wasn’t about high fashion. It was a matter of concealing her identity while appealing to the circuit’s primarily male fanbase. A task in which she effortlessly succeeded as evidenced by the skintight spandex chaps she struggled to pull over her sizable, but shapely, rump.
With the chaps snuggly hugging at her hips, she absent-mindedly threw on an old vest that cousin Braeburn had outgrown years ago. Like the rest of the ensemble it was pointlessly snug around her chest, but, like the rest of its hand-me-down brethren that had seen time in the ring, this vest wouldn’t see through the end of the night. Applejack took a moment to gander into the mirror spanning the length of the far wall, assessing her appearance and adjusting her costume as she saw fit.
She couldn’t help but feel a bit silly wearing such a suggestive costume. A costume that hundreds upon thousands of wanton stallions would be ogling intently while they fantasized about the mystery mare beneath the mask she had yet to don. As it was the only other article of clothing left in the bag, it didn’t take her long to find the well-worn garment and discover that a parchment had been stuffed in the mouth hole at some point. What the... when did this get in here, she wondered, unrolling the letter to read.
Applejack,
Or is it ‘Gala Justice’ these days? You’ve come quite a ways since those golden days in Calfgary to be defending the championship title of Equestria’s largest wrestling promotion. I just hope that on your way to the top, you haven’t forgotten what it means to walk the path of the wrestler. If you should ever stray too far from your path, remember your second finisher and it’ll all come back to you. A one-way voyage to the planet’s core: The Inverted Death Valley Driver.
-P.C.
A spry smile crept across Applejack’s lips as she took in the final lines. Uttering a simple “Good lookin’ out, partner,” under her breath, she pulled the mask over her face and turned away from the mirror. Wearing her alter ego on her sleeve, she strutted out of the training room in character: bedroom eyes full of confidence and a suggestive swaying of her hips belying a giddiness that her tail just couldn’t seem to contain.
She felt confident, she felt powerful, and above all, she felt relieved. That is, until a dull roar from just ahead made the blood in the farmer’s veins turn to ice. She stopped and shuddered slightly as butterflies wrought from anxiousness thrashed and danced about in her belly. Even after all of the years she’d spent fighting in this circuit, and all of her performances in the Equestrian Rodeo Competition, she was still susceptible to performance anxiety, or rather, the fear of failure before an audience.
Still, despite the growing pit of nervousness in her gut, Applejack continued forward on shaky legs, trying and failing to keep herself poised. Her cocky, sensualized steps had become clumsy and heavy. She had to bite down on her lower lip to keep her teeth from chattering as the sound alone might’ve caused her to lose what little nerve she had left. It wasn’t long before the masked mare found herself faced with a door simply labeled: Ring Access: Right.
“W-well, I came this far.” She shakily rested a hoof on door the handle, and in an instant the only thing separating her from the expectant eyes of the audience and the euphoric release of competition seemed somehow heavier than it should have. “A-ain’t no sense in turnin’ back now.” Swallowing hard, she pulled the handle down and pushed her way inside.
As the door shut behind her, Applejack found herself in a poorly lit booth of a room. It wasn’t a particularly spacious venue, so as one might expect decoration was limited to whatever was sparse and practical. Namely a simple wall clock, a moth-eaten curtain separating her from the walkway to the ring, and a table boasting a surprising variety of sports drinks and energy bars. She hadn’t realized it until now, but her little venting session with the heavy bags had left her unbelievably parched and hungry. She looked at the wall clock. One more minute, she observed, nervously fumbling at the wrapper of an energy bar.
“It’ll be just fine, sugarcube,” she told herself, downing the whole bar in a single motion. “There’s nothin’ to be nervous about, I mean, I’ve trained myself up good and proper.” Forty-five seconds. “’Sides, I’m the best dang fighter in the league. I reckon defending this title will be a snap.” She picked up a sports drink and drained its contents with vampiric efficiency. “Oh, applesauce…” she groaned, as she glanced back at the clock. There was less than half a minute remaining, and she could already hear the announcer going to work, painting the air with hype to get the audience even more riled up than they already were.
“Fillies and gentlecolts, the Exquestrian Combat Federation and our proud sponsor, Antagonist Industries, would like to welcome you and our pay-per-view audience at home to the Magnum Murderplex Coliseum for the biggest title fight smackdown of the century, and folks, trust me when I say: it’s gonna be one helluva show!”
Applejack could hear the crowd exploding with applause, and at once she could tell that it was easily a few thousand strong. Almost instantly those tiny little butterflies nibbling gently at her belly mutated into a swarm of frantic hummingbirds, indiscriminately jabbing their beaks at her stomach as though it were filled with nectar instead of acid. But the worst had yet to come: the emcee was just getting started.
“I hope the blood in your veins is boiling over, my little ponies, because tonight we’re gonna bear witness to the two biggest names in fighting history as they throw caution to the wind and battle tooth and hoof for the prestige and glory that comes with the crowning title of circuit champion!”
Applejack could feel the floor tremble from the sheer force of the audience’s corresponding roar, and a moment later her hooves followed suit, on an arguably grander scale. That audience was going to be massive. The earth pony could feel herself hyperventilating, but did her best not to succumb to the terrible quaking in her knees. “Heh, they ain’t even called my name yet and I’m already shakin’ like a cat that got thrown in the wash.”
“First, the challenger from parts unknown, standing at an impressive two and a half meters tall and weighing in at four hundred and fifty pounds, this muscular mountain of minotaur easily dwarfs the majority of the season’s competitors and doesn’t disappoint in size if you know what I mean... ladies. You’ve seen him on the small screen as the mascot of a terrible breakfast cereal, and he’s clawed his way through the ranks just to get a crack at the championship belt and the flank that wears it! Please help me welcome to the stage, the Macho Minotaur: Candy Ravage!”
Not even a moment had passed after the announcer’s introduction when a boisterous “Oooh, yeah!” sounded out, audible even over the raucous of the crowd. Admittedly, the call of a worthy challenger rose Applejack’s spirits, if only slightly.
“C’mon Applejack, gotta pull yourself together. Been up here a hundred times before, this ain’t the time to fall apart.” She slapped at her cheeks and shook her head to regain her wits.
“And now, it is with great pleasure that I introduce tonight’s defending champion!”
“Ohh, here we go...” The nervous earth pony skittishly pranced in place in an attempt to be rid of the excess energy.
“Though this next fighter stands a mere one and a half meters tall and weighs in at a dainty two hundred and fifty pounds, she is living proof that looks can be deceiving. She’s the russet wrangler, the country queen of the ring, Equestria’s very own belle of the brawl: Gala Justice!”
“Phew... here we go, here we go, here we go...” she chanted as the curtain slowly parted, revealing the darkened catwalk to the stage. She only caught a glimpse of the arena—which as she imagined, was packed with ponies—before a heavy veil of fog fell over the catwalk, once again obscuring her from the audience. Applejack took a deep breath and forced herself forward through the fog. At once, her mind was assaulted by an onslaught of panicked, pessimistic thoughts, but the nerve-wracked performer trudged on anyway. She couldn’t hear the audience over the sound of her heart pounding frantically in her chest, the prospect of loss and the humiliation that would come with it resounding in her skull like a muted scream. But then, as quickly as the noise had come, it was gone, replaced by an eerily-still quiet while a crazed, confident smile crept onto her lips.
The fog had cleared up enough for her to catch a glimpse of that little piece of sanctuary she’d been longing to step hoof in this whole time: those four majestic skybound pillars joined together by three gorgeous braids of rubber-coated steel, all overlooking a massive springboard floor.
Even as the fog continued to clear and her view of the audience became unobscured, Applejack kept her attention fixed to the ring and the ludicrously huge minotaur climbing into it. From this distance she could see that the challenger’s body language was just radiating with excitement. From the steady yet impatient rise and fall of his massive chest, to the way the veins on his arms rhythmically tensed and popped with the clenching of his fist, everything about this beast was just impressive. Mr. McMane certainly knows how to pick ‘em, she thought, sliding effortlessly into the ring.
Unlike the self-proclaimed ‘Macho Minotaur’ who was now up on the turnbuckles pumping his fists in the air for the sake sponging up the audience’s attention, Applejack proceeded to limber up, keeping her focus squarely on the outcome of the match. It wasn’t like she was immune to the amore of the crowd and the draw of being the center of attention, but in her mind there wasn’t much sense in building up her ego before the match just to have it come crashing down when she lost. Victory now, gloating and glory later.
However, reluctant as she was to strut about the ring like a peacock, she didn’t have much of a choice. This was still as much a show as it was a contest, meaning certain aspects of the ordeal had to cater to the excitement of the audience. One such instance—as unnecessarily necessary as it was—being good-old, traditional pre-fight banter, something that a certain grandstanding minotaur was more than delighted to indulge in.
“Well, hello there, little girl,” Candy Ravage called from his perch on the turnbuckle. His voice, aided by a volume enhancing spell on the ring, boomed across the arena, casting the crowd into a suspenseful silence. “And just who do you think you are, walking unannounced and uninvited into the domain of the Macho Minotaur?”
“Who am I?” Applejack snorted. “I’m the defendin’ champ Gala Justice! I reckon I ought to be the one askin’ what you’re doin’ in my ring!”
“Such big claims from the mouth of a filly so little... but Candy Ravage is not convinced.”
“Oh, yeah?” Applejack asked. “And why ain’t you?”
“The Macho Minotaur can’t help but notice that you’ve stepped into his ring without the champion’s vestments.” Candy Ravage crossed his arms and narrowed his beady eyes into an expectant glare. “Where’s my belt?” he demanded.
“That old thing?” Applejack smirked. “It’s back home, collectin’ dust like it’s been doin’ for the past ten challenge matches. Doesn’t make much sense to move the thing if I’m just gonna be puttin’ it right back after we’re done here, does it?"
“Oh, is that so?”
“Eeyup,” Applejack replied smugly.
“Then lemme tell you something, Defending Champion Gala Justice.” Candy Ravage leapt ungracefully from the turnbuckle, landing in front of Applejack with a thud. “Once the Macho Minotaur is through riding you in the ring, he’ll be riding you back out to whatever little hole in the ground you call home for his belt and a little round two, if you know what he’s sayin’, yeah!”
“Well, I’m just hopin’ you don’t go down too quickly, I want to enjoy this.”
The two continued to stare each other down in a tense silence. “Can’t you just feel that electric tension in the air folks? It looks like these two little grudge birds are ready and raring to get it on, and just who are we to stand in the way of true loathing? Without further ado: combatants, are you ready?” Neither champion nor challenger batted so much as an eye to acknowledge the emcee. “Then, trrrrust your force, and head to the garden of madness!”
The emcee’s cry spread through the crowd like an epidemic, arousing hot-blooded howls and cheers from the impatient fans, but the applause fell deaf on Applejack’s ears. She was far too busy sizing up her competition for some glaring deficiency in his fighting style, but that required time, which was something Candy Ravage wasn’t particularly keen on granting her.
The minotaur took the initiative and went in for the kill, dashing forward with surprising disregard for any resistance or counter-attack on his rival’s behalf. In one brutish motion, he hurled a massive boulder of a fist towards Applejack, but only connected with the air as the earth pony took a huge leap backwards and collected her bearings.
“Oh me, oh my, my little spectators! Candy Ravage has opened this match strong, with a full-frontal assault right off the bat! It looks like the Macho Minotaur is trying to finish up quickly! How will Gala Justice fair against a resolve like that?”
The encounter, as sudden and brief as it may have seemed, provided Applejack with a wealth of information about the minotaur’s combat style. With that one punch, he told Applejack his reach, his speed, or rather his lack thereof, that he was all strength and no technique, and most importantly: that he was impatient and impulsive. No brain, restraint, or technique at all. If she was lucky, he’d keep rushing her with those big, clumsy swings of his, and she’d just let her superior agility do the work for her.
In the time it took for Applejack to process his deficiencies, Candy Ravage had once again closed the distance and let loose with another wild flail of his fist. This time Applejack wove under and out of the attack, smirking all the while. From her perspective, the fight was starting to look fairly one-sided in her favor. After all, her opponent was as predictable as the spinning back knuckle she found herself gliding under. This was going to be a snap. Candy Ravage, frustrated by Applejack’s constant dodging around, slammed both of his fists straight down on her, only to have the earth pony once again evade him with a backflip.
“And what an excellent display of agility from the defending champ! It’s tough to say who’s gonna come out on top!”
“What was that? I was standin’ right in front of you!” She taunted the recovering minotaur from her temporary vantage point. “I bet you couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with a pine tree if your life depended on it!”
Candy Ravage snorted irritatedly in response. “Lemme tell you something, Gala Justice, Candy Ravage hears you talking a big game, but so far all he’s seen is you do is run away!” Candy Ravage stomped the canvas and pointed a giant log of a finger at Applejack. “The Macho Minotaur came here to fight, not to play tag with a full-grown filly. So, how about you stop dancing around like a monkey and fight like a minotaur!”
“Be careful what you wish for, sugarcube...” Applejack lowered her body into a predatory crouch. “Y’all just might be conscious enough to regret it!” she roared, exploding fearlessly forth in a locomotive-like gallop. She had no reason to be wary of the monstrous minotaur any longer, she’d seen the extent of what he could do and could basically anticipate all of his moves before he’d even think of them. For example, the lousily-thrown right straight the titan had just loosed from his shoulder in response to her charge. She saw the punch coming from a mile away, and reacted accordingly by weaving in and left to the minotaur’s blindspot. Moving with speed that would make the Wonderbolts do a double take, she spun around, drawing her legs in and fired a solid double leg buck into his exposed ribs.
“Gala Justice takes the honor of delivering the first blow, and let me tell ya folks: I do not envy Candy Ravage in the slightest!”
The minotaur stumbled backwards, holding his side, but Applejack wasn’t done with him yet. Far from it. She was going to work his poor defense like the southern fields during harvest time and reap a fresh crop of pain for her efforts. Applejack closed the distance between them quickly, rearing up on her hind legs to adopt her tried and true boxing stance. She opened up on the guardless minotaur, pounding away into his midsection with every manner and combination of crosses, hooks and uppercuts her forelegs could shoot off.
Candy Ravage mooed and threw a desperate backhand at Applejack in an attempt to gain some breathing room, but the masked mare wouldn't have any of it. She ducked low and drove all of her body weight behind one mighty, skybound uppercut straight to his chin, forcing his head to reel back.
“Oh, and it’s a devastating Dragon Uppercut from Gala Justice! Are you sure you can believe how one sided this fight's become folks? ”
Applejack was quick to recover from her uppercut, and was already moving in for the follow-up. In one smooth motion, she spun, drew her hind legs into her chest, and blew them out in yet another devastating double leg buck that met its mark, or so she thought. As she went to return to a stand, the farmer quickly found herself met with firm resistance from her hind legs. “What in tarnation?”
Applejack turned around in time to see her former punching bag smirking and tightening his grip on the hard-earned hoof he now held. With one solid tug, Candy Ravage dragged the struggling Applejack towards himself, leering all the while. “Well, well, well, look what the bull dragged in, heh heh heh...”
“It seems as though the tables have turned on Gala Justice! This might be the turning point!”
Applejack scratched and scraped at the canvas in an attempt to break free, but soon found her resistance to be in vain. Powerful, constricting arms wrapped tightly around her belly, pulling her steadily upward. It was all the captured mare could do to pound and flail futilely at the inflexible flesh bonds that held her firm. Then she felt it. That feeling of being exposed despite the fact that her identity was concealed. Then she saw them: thousands of eyes boring into her during a moment of vulnerability. Each of them expectant, anxious to see the valkyrie before them broken down into a defenseless damsel.
The moment seemed to last for an eternity, her skin growing clammy and her breathing more shallow with each passing second. She was being dominated, marehandled even, and had it not been for the burst of crushing pain shooting through her midsection, she’d have lost perspective and succumbed completely to panic.
Still, she couldn’t say that what she snapped back to was substantially any better than her passing anxiety attack. The moment her body adjusted to the pressure, she could feel her captor’s pulse quicken and his breathing deepen. Wincing, she turned her head, ears piqued, and heard the minotaur utter a small satisfied moan. “Candy Ravage likes the way you smell, filly,” he mumbled, burrowing his snout further into her mane.
“What in the—” The remark caught Applejack off guard for a moment, but she quickly regained her wits cursing, squirming, and pounding at his arms twice as hard as before. Despite the amount of resistance she put up, the minotaur gave no reaction, instead choosing to relish in her scent while bear hugging the light and life clean out of her. “Get offa me you weirdo!”
“You know something, little lady? The macho minotaur likes you so much, that he’s gonna take you for a little ride... heh, heh, heh...”
Applejack struggled for words “Ngh... what in the—ngh—Sam Hill are you on about?”
“Just sit back—” Candy Ravage slid his hooves apart, squatting slightly at the knees.
“Hey! Lemme go!” Applejack protested.
“Is this what I think it is? Could it be? Has the Macho Minotaur granted the champ free admission to the all-natural amusement machine?”
“—keep all forehooves and hind legs in the minotaur—”
“I said put me down!” Applejack was kicking and hollering at this point, but it was drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
“This is it! Discord’s ferris wheel, the darkness piercing—”
“—and enjoy the ride!” Candy Ravage bounced once and arched his torso up and back like a rocket-propelled rainbow.
“—Germane Suplex!”
The world whipped by faster than Applejack could register. The flashing stage lights, the cheers of the audience, her thoughts all became a blur as Candy Ravage dragged her through the air. The only thing she could do was grit her teeth and brace for the impact. With a heavy thud, her neck made contact with the canvas, the force of the slam bouncing her out of Candy Ravage’s arms and into a state of stunned shock as she slid across the canvas. She was going to feel that one in the morning.
Applejack managed to pull herself together, planting one forehoof on the ring while she fought to regain her focus. Her senses managed to catch up with the world just in time for her to catch the latest of the announcer’s updates.
“Good Celestia’s mane! Even after whipping out his signature move, it seems like the bombastic bull is dead set on launching another devastating power move from his arsenal, and it looks like Gala Justice still hasn’t recovered from that suplex!”
Applejack forced another hoof to the mat and violently shook her head to pull her surroundings into focus. She cast her gaze towards the opposite side of the ring where she saw Candy Ravage standing on the second rope, pumping his fist towards the ceiling while the audience booed and cheered him simultaneously.
“Call Princess Celestia and break out the Elements of Harmony, because Candy Ravage is about to shroud this ring in eternal night!”
The downed Applejack fought to stand, but her body was still trying to shake off the effects of the last blow. But the Macho Minotaur, much like time, stops for no mare.
“Here he goes!”
Candy Ravage stepped carefully on the uppermost row of ropes, and impressively managed to hold his balance despite his enormous size and weight.
“From the top rope!”
The minotaur gave a single powerful bounce that forced the rope and the turnbuckles supporting it to sag inward. Then, like a hilariously underpowered trampoline, the rope shot its minotaur payload up and back in a strangely graceful, somersaulting arc.
“It’s the Nightmare Moonsault Press!”
Time slowed down for as Applejack watched the massive minotaur missile falling towards her at an alarming rate of speed, belly first. A thousand potential courses of action raced through her mind, but only one held firm: move the hell out of the way. She scrambled frantically to her hooves, and made a desperate lunge that allowed her to narrowly avoid being crushed as the beefy bovine crashed face first into the canvas. She didn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if she hadn’t dodged in time.
“Once again, Gala Justice displays those amazing evasion skills! I thought for sure that Moonsault would take her out of the fight, but that’s a reigning champion for you!”
Applejack snorted irritatedly at the announcer’s momentary lapse of faith, before granting her undivided attention to her fallen opponent. He was certainly taking his time recovering from the botched bodypress, and as far as Applejack was concerned, a recovering rival was synonymous with opportunity. Keeping in mind his position in the ring, the earth pony took off galloping full speed towards the farthest rope. If Candy Ravage was going to be leisurely with his recovery, then he was going to receive a high-speed wake up call for his sloppiness.
With bullet-like speed, Applejack jumped and slammed her hind legs into the centermost point of the centermost rope, her momentum forcing the rope to stretch back as though it were a slingshot band. She had but an instant to sight her target and adjust herself accordingly before the rope finally kicked back. Then she was airborne, quickly ripping through the air towards Candy Ravage, her right foreleg trailing behind her as she flew. To her unspoken delight, the minotaur had only just managed to pull himself to a kneel, thus leaving his face totally exposed; this was going to suck for him.
“It looks like Gala Justice is going in for the kill with a monstrous diving lariat! Can she finish the fight?”
“Wakey, wakey, sleepin’ beauty!” she shouted, hurling her trailing hoof at the minotaur’s jaw. However, as she was totally caught up in the rush of delivering what was arguably the most deadly lariat ever thrown, she failed to see the incredibly smug grin spreading across the minotaur’s lips until it was too late.
With one massive hand, Candy Ravage smacked her hoof out of the air, and with the other he seized the mare by the throat and slammed her neck first into the mat. The impact was nowhere near as devastating as the earlier suplex, but it was still enough to leave a harsh ringing in the receiver's ears. “You really fell for that?” Candy Ravage jeered, lifting Applejack into the air by her throat. “Some champion you are,” he taunted, tightening his grip on his captive’s neck.
“The Macho Minotaur manages to catch the champ with a counter chokeslam by playing possum! A dirty trick for sure, but all’s fair in love and war, my little ponies!”
The earth pony fought to free herself from the minotaur’s tyrannical grasp, vainly prying and pounding at those vices of fingers to no avail. All the while, little tinges of black started crawling into the corner of her vision due to the lack of oxygen and slowed blood flow. As though to add insult to injury, with his free hand he ripped the now sweat soaked vest from her chest and chucked the piece into the crowd, a fight breaking out almost immediately among the spectators in the vicinity.
With each passing second, the world continued to grow darker and with it Applejack more anxious about the shameful humiliation the loss would afford her. Anxiety gave way to desperation, which in turn allowed panic to grip her at her heart, resulting in one final, fear-induced adrenaline rush. Applejack clasped the minotaur’s forearm with a renewed, if fleeting, vigor. She only had one shot and failure was not an option. Pulling herself to a more leveragable position, she swung a hind leg out and slammed it into his chin with as much force as she could muster in her spent state. Much to her surprise, the gamble paid off. Her captor stumbled backwards holding his face, his grip on her neck weakening, if only slightly.
Applejack moved quickly, enterprising on the opportunity she’d created for herself. She managed to pull the minotaur’s fingers apart with only moderate effort while swinging her hind legs forward, catching the minotaur around the neck with her thighs. In a testament to the strength of her midsection and the value of being able to perform an inverted sit-up, Applejack rocked her body straight up and drove her forehooves into his exposed skull, stunning him.
“You know something?” Applejack planted her hoof on the dazed minotaur’s face and tilted his head back so she could look into his unfocused eyes. “You’ve got some bad manners, Mr. Ravage. Steppin’ into my ring and callin’ it your own, playin’ dirty, and worst of all, not finishin’ what you started.” She shook her head in mock disappointment. “Guess I’m gonna have to show you the proper way to do things...” Applejack dug her thighs further into his neck, solidifying her hold.
In a blur of violent motion, she whipped her upper body in a swift downward crescent, throwing her forelegs back for added momentum. With all the force working against her legs which were still securely anchored around Candy Ravage’s thick neck, the third law of motion smiled upon her efforts. The minotaur’s body followed his head through the arc eventually smashing into the canvas with a cringeworthy impact.
“I don’t believe my eyes! That was a Hurricanrana for the ages! I don’t think Candy Ravage will be getting up from that anytime soon! The ever-feisty Gala Justice manages a comeback the likes of which this announcer hasn’t seen in ages! This just goes to show that no matter how bleak the situation, it ain’t over till it’s over!”
Applejack, pulling herself to a stand, turned her neck to see the results of her efforts. She was pleasantly surprised to find that, as the announcer had stated, Candy Ravage was in fact lying face down on the canvas barely stirring. However, barely stirring was still stirring, which meant that the minotaur still harbored the will to continue, and, while that was something Applejack could certainly admire, it was also something she couldn’t allow. She mulled over the various moves and finishers she could use to take her uppity challenger out, when she recalled the letter from earlier.
With a grunt and a nod the earth pony stumbled over to the fallen cow, wincing with every step; the abuse she’d suffered earlier was finally catching up with her. Regardless, she pushed through the suck, grabbing the minotaur underneath the forearm and the belly. With back-breaking effort, she managed to heft her massive rival onto her back, staggering underneath his great weight, and that was the easy part.
“This one’s for you, P.C,” she groaned, slowly but surely rearing onto her hind legs, a move that demanded everything she had and then some. Applejack stumbled about unsteadily, trying to balance the Macho Minotaur while maintaining her own footing in this unnatural position. A problem she soon rectified by securing the beefy bovine’s neck and groin with her forelegs, resulting in a position bipedal creatures commonly referred to as the ‘fireman’s carry’.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing, fight fans? Despite a weight difference of two-hundred pounds, Gala Justice has defied all reason and hefted this behemoth like a feather! I can already feel it, this next move is gonna be big!”
Applejack ignored the emcee, instead choosing to focus on her own breathing and maintaining this position. Concentration was paramount here. If she threw this finisher wrong, she ran the risk of injuring herself; it was all or nothing. Then she felt it. A pang in her gut telling her to go for broke and hold nothing back; it was time to drive Candy Ravage through the planet’s core.
“Wait a minute... that pose.... that stance... oh, we’re in for a treat this evening folks!”
Applejack clutched her victim’s neck and groin tightly as she kicked her legs out from beneath herself, effectively turning the tandem union of herself and Candy Ravage into a massive hammer with Candy Ravage’s face playing the role of the hammer’s head. The impact was both gratifying and instantaneous, Candy Ravage going completely limp as the raw trauma knocked him right out.
“Give that bull a pillow and kiss him good night, because nobody but nobody gets up after a Burning Hammer of that magnitude!”
“Did you see that one, partner?” Applejack said softly, looking out into the audience on the off chance that her old wrestling cohort was amidst the cheering masses.
“Gala Justice has once again successfully defended her title as champion of the Exquestrian Combat Federation! Eleven challengers have stood before this mare and eleven faces have been driven clean through that ring every time!”
Applejack trotted over to the fallen minotaur and triumphantly planted a hoof on his chest. With her stress long forgotten, the title defended, and the audience going stir crazy, Applejack allowed herself to bask in the glory of her victory. She was going to be sore in the morning, no doubt, but she’d suffer later; this was the time to celebrate.
Applejack arrived at Sweet Apple Acres midday of the following day. The train ride over hadn’t been the most pleasant she’d ever had, what with the constant rocking and rattling of the car on her sore neck and aching joints, but nonetheless it was good to be back home.
“Applejack! Applejack!” called a familiar, high-pitched voice.
Applejack turned towards the source of the voice to see Big Macintosh trotting up leisurely, with the Cutie Mark Crusaders hot on his hooves.
“Hey, sis,” Big Macintosh greeted. “How was your trip to Manehat—”
Big Macintosh found himself swiftly interrupted as Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo leapt onto his back, firing off a merciless volley of rapid fire questions. “Were you there at the fight?!” Applebloom asked.
“I sure wa—”
“Did you get to see Gala Justice?” asked Scootaloo.
“Yup, why I even—”
“Did you get to meet her?” Sweetie Belle asked with a scrutinizing look in her eye.
“I was just gettin’ to th—”
“What’s she like?” asked Apple Bloom
“Who is she under the mask?” asked Scootaloo. “Anypony we know?”
Sweetie Belle scratched her chin in thought. “She’s gotta be—”
Applejack cleared her throat in an unnecessarily loud fashion, effectively silencing all three of the starry eyed fillies. “To answer your question: yes, I was at the fight and I even managed to get y’all some autographed pictures of Ms. Justice.” She reached underneath her stetson and pulled out three signed pictures of her masked alter ego performing various high-flying feats. Unbeknownst to her, a fourth tagalong taking refuge in her hat decided to make its presence known to all in attendance. From the corner of her eye, Applejack could only watch helplessly as the crimson mask of her wrestling persona softly floated to the ground.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Scootaloo squinted at the mask. “Isn't that...”
“It looks just like it...” Sweetie Belle murmured. “But why would your sister have Gala Justice’s mask?”
Apple Bloom looked at the mask, then at her older sister, and finally the pictures. Applejack could almost hear the gears began turning in the little filly's brain. “Applejack...” the cream yellow filly said as though she’d arrived at the conclusion of an incredibly difficult math problem. “You... I mean are you...”
Applejack began to sweat bullets as she waited for Apple Bloom to drive a sword through the heart of the dilemma.
“...friends with Gala Justice?”
Applejack blinked in disbelief. That wasn’t quite the question she was expecting.
“I mean that’s the only explanation that makes sense, right?”
“Yeah, that totally has to be it!” said Scootaloo.
“So then you really are friends with Gala Justice?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“Well...” Applejack chuckled nervously. “I, uh, guess you could say we’re... close.”
“Really?” all three asked at once.
“In a manner in speakin’, yes.”
“Who is she?”
“What does she look like?”
“Tell us, tell us, tell us!” all three whined in unison.
“Now, now, settle down y’all, that information is confidential.”
A collective, disappointed “aww” resonated from the trio.
“Tell you three what, though,” Applejack said, perking up six little ears. “If y’all manage to clean up all the rotten apples in the west orchard by this sunset, I’ll see about getting her to pay us a visit down on the farm. How’s that sound?”
“You can really do that for us, sis?” Apple Bloom asked, eyes wide.
“Sure can,” Applejack said proudly.
“Wow, Apple Bloom, your sister is the second coolest pony in Ponyville!” said Scootaloo.
“Second coolest?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“After Rainbow Dash, of course.”
“Scootaloo,” said Apple Bloom. “Don’t get chokeslammed all over this field.”
“Like you coul— waugh! Put me down, put me down!”
Applejack smiled and shook her head at the three bickering fillies, before giving her now undivided attention to Big Macintosh.
“So.” The crimson stallion leisurely rolled his trademark wheat plant about in his mouth before continuing. “You can get Gala Justice to come pay us visit on the farm?”
“Well, that’s what I said isn’t it?”
“It certainly is, but—”
“What, you don’t believe me or somethin’?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what were you gonna say?”
“I was just gonna suggest that you find a new vest, is all.”
“What are you—” Applejack stopped as she recalled that a certain minotaur had ripped her vest off during the match. Big Macintosh smiled as Applejack narrowed her eyes at him. He was probably going to use this information as leverage to force her into chores at some point down the road, but little did he realize that Applejack had knowledge of the skeletons in his own closet as well. “Careful, Big Mac, I think Twilight’s still lookin’ for that little Smarty Pants doll of hers. I don’t reckon you’d be interested in helpin’ her find it, would you?”
The stallion opened his mouth and shut it just as quickly while Applejack trotted past him, down the road to the farmhouse. Justice had been served.
The End
Author's Note
No More Heroes References. No More Heroes References Everywhere.
