The streets of Buenos Aries were devoid of even the life of animal or force of nature, the slight evening breeze managing to not even rustle a piece of old newspaper across the road. Through the air, the sound of footsteps echoed, and swaying slightly and man stumbled from a doorway, singing drunkenly as he walked. Pausing to take a swig, he gulped down half the containers contents, and then with a snort, threw the rest against the wall. Still swaying, the man walked.

“Hey mister…”

The man stopped, and slowly turned. A young man leaned against the wall, a blue bandana around his neck, a cocky smirk over his face.

“What you doin’, eh?”

Shrugging, the man turned back to the road, and from the shadows, two other young men walked, and then blocked his path. While one stood scowling, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoody, the other smiled, and cracked his knuckles.

“What’s eh matter, senor? Don’t you know it’s rude not to answer a man when he’s talking to you?”

The other youth spat, the lugey splattering at the foot of the man. From the doorways, more of the gang members walked, carrying bats and metal pipes, a couple twirling open basilongs. In the end, the man was surrounded, swaying in the middle of the throng. Leaning up off the wall, the leader stretched.

“’Sides mister, this here’s a toll road. You gotta pay if you wanna walk.”

The man hiccupped, and slurred, “ ‘is a public ‘oad.”

The large youth who was cracking his knuckles stepped forward, and picked the man up by the front of his shirt.

“Not here it…”

Faster than their eyes could follow, the drunk’s fingers curled around the gang members wrist. A shriek filled the air as the arm was twisted, a dry snap mixed in with the cry. Falling to his knees, the thug clutched his now broken arm, and the next instant, was sent sprawling back, the drunk’s knee smashing his nose. As tendrils of blood flew through the air, and the thug thumped onto his back, the drunk raised a booted foot over the youth chest, and stomped down hard, snapping the sternum in his body. The thug’s body jerked up once, his eyes bulging, then lay still, the shattered bone having done its work. Swaying still, the drunk pulled a pair of gloves from his jacket, and put them on.

“Don’t ‘anna bloody up my hands…” he slurred, and took a stance.

“Come on boys…”

From the right, one of them charged, his blade arching at a right downward slash, and leaning slightly to the side, the drunk dodged it, then gripped the man’s wrist, and in one swift movement drew it behind his back. As he did, his free hand disarmed the thug, and once he had the gangbangers palm crossed with his shoulder blade, he jammed the basilong sideways through the back of the thug’s neck, severing the cord. Letting the newly made statistic slump to the street, the drunk whirled to his next attacker, this one running up with a pipe held over his head. Smirking, the drunk drew his hand back, then attacked, driving the palm into the thugs nose. This time, the bone in the gangbanger’s nostril was forced upwards into his brain, and the force of the strike sent the thug flailing back.

Another drew a gun, and the next instant found himself face to face with what he thought an easy mark. The thug was so shocked; he barely felt his finger being snapped in the weapons trigger guard as it was jerked to the side. Sliding the now bent appendage from the guard, the drunk quickly adjusted his grip, and the thugs eyes bulged as the man pressed the gun to the underside of his jaw.

“Fuck me…” the thug managed before the drunk’s finger drew the trigger back. As the round ripped through the gang member’s skull, sending a geyser of blood and brains to arc up momentarily in the air, the drunk whirled around. His finger never hesitated. Seven targets left, glock. More than enough. Blam, blam, blam… fuck, jammed. Pausing, the drunk looked down at the weapon in disgust.

“Cheap fucking Chinese knock offs…” his arm arced suddenly, the now useless gun whizzing through the air to smash into the furthest to the right thugs face. As the man dropped his bat to clutch at his nose, the drunk rushed over, and with a jab, crushed the targets trachea. As the thug flew back, eyes bulging as he felt his airway now ruined and no longer drawing air, the drunk let his arms fall limp at his sides. Steam condensed in the somewhat chilled air as he breathed, and slowly, he turned to the last three. Eyes wide, the three dropped their weapons, and the drunk smiled.

“Good boys. Fuck off…”

The three nodded, then ran, the youngest screaming of demons as he did so. Still sway, the man turned to the last one. Breathing as though he had just run a marathon, the thug pressed hard against the wall. As the drunk slowly walked over, he held up a raised hand, palm out. Seeing this tactic do nothing to desist the man’s movement, the thug fell to his knees. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he now folded his hands, and lowered his head as he clenched his eyes.

“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

The drunks leer continued, and slowly he walked, his steps echoing like thunder in the thugs ear. Closer and closer, it came. The man stepped around him as the thug continued.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death.”

Reaching into his shirt, the thug pulled out the rosary around his neck, and pressed the wooden cross at the end to his lips. Taking a breath, the thug slid the rosary back into his shirt, and closed. Leaning down, the man put a hand on either shoulder.

“Finish what you started boy….”

Wincing at the slight dig of the fingers into his shoulders, the thug crossed himself.

“Amen.”

The drunk grimaced as his right hand left the thugs shoulder to dig into the underside of his chin, and with one swift jerk to the left, then a harder one to the right, the drunk snapped the thugs neck. Undoing his grip, he let the thug fall to the ground. Turning his head to the right, then the left, the drunk sighed, and then stumbled on, occasionally leaning against a wall or garbage bin as the world around blurred and spun.

“My… how delectable…”

Slowly the drunk turned, teeth bared. He was so not in the mood…. His eyes widened as he turned, the source of the voice before him. A woman. Not an uncommon occurrence, but this one… her entire frame was covered in a pale blue diaphanous gown; her arms thin though also toned belaying their seeming frailty. She stood at five two, and smiled up at the man, her lips red, her eyes a pale green. Her skin was pale, but seemed to glow in the night, but what was truly awe inspiring was her hair. A tri-colored ponytail lay down one shoulder, the light blue, green, and pink held by a red ribbon. Slowly, the woman pressed a hand to his chest, and tilted her head.

“Sleep…”

…………………………………………………………

Another place…. Another time. The drunk lay bound in the back of a van, body bruised from a combination of beating and the rough ride the van was giving him. His wrists were bound behind his back, his ankles wrapped firmly with rope. Over his head, they had placed a burlap sack. In his head, the drunk counted off from the second he heard the vans back door slam shut. The vehicle skidded to a stop, and the drunk heard the door of the van slam. The back door opened… about three hours. They obviously didn’t want him just dead. He felt one of his captors pull him up, then the drunk felt the rope binding his ankles jerk back and forth a moment, then loosen completely. His two captures put a hand under the drunks armpit, and tossed his worthless carcass from it. The vans back doors slammed again, and the squeal of its tire sounded as the smell of exhaust and burning rubber filled his nostrils. Fingers dug into his shirt sleeve, and the drunk was dragged up into a kneeling position. The drunk felt drops against the bare skin of his forearms, and thunder sounded. It was raining. Slowly, whoever had brought him here drew the sack of his head. Blinking in the light, the drunk looked around. An airstrip… maybe a plane ride…

Looking up, the drunk squinted, unable to see his captors face. Lightning flashed, exposing it, and the drunk grinned.

“Ramirez…”

Ramirez began to walk around the drunk.

“Jacob…”

The drunk snorted.

“Been awhile since I heard that… how you been since Michellines and that fudge packer you slobbered over bought the big one…”

“How much?”

Jacob shrugged, a huge grin across his face.

“Ten k. Five when I first signed up, the rest when I finally got you out there.”

Jacob chuckled.

“Figured you get to me sooner. Especially since you’ve been capping the fuckers who paid me to get to you.”

Ramirez walked slowly to the front of Jacob. Looking down, he said softly “Jacob… was it worth it?”

Jacob looked up. Smirking, he said “Oh yeah baby. Hookers, booze, blow. I spent every last fucking red cent.”

Ramirez drew his pistol. Taking a step back, he pressed it to Jacobs head. Leaning forward, Jacob closed his eyes. Around him, the rain began to fall harder. Slowly, the smirk faded. Suddenly, the drunks eyes flew open.

“Well… what the fuck are you waiting for?”

Ramirez just stood there. Baring his teeth, Jacob snarled, “Come on, come on, quit teasing me. Quit being such a fucking woman, pussy, fucking faggot! Do it, you chugger of cocks! Blow my fucking brains out and fuck the still smoking hole!”

“Must thou be so… vulgar…”

Jacob’s eyes opened, then grimacing he shut them again. Head throbbing, the human rolled over onto his belly. Across the room, the Lady lay back against her various silk pillows, idly reading as her newest toy awoke. The pet sat up, going into a kneeling position. Rising, the Lady took a brush from her night stand, and began slowly stroking it through her hair. Slowly, she walked around the brute. In the night, she had removed his shirt. Despite his best efforts as a drunkard, this beast had maintained the chiseled form of a practiced soldier. He kept looking down, seemingly lost in his own world, or perhaps still too hung over.

Arching a regal brow, the Lady’s brush turned to smoke in her palm, and floated back onto the mantle. Slowly her eyes ran up and down her pets back and arms, taking in all the scars he had managed to accumulate. Crossing her arms, her tone of honey drenched over razor blades.

“What is thou called?”

The human opened his mouth, then slumped forward, slamming a fist into the floor. Eyes bulging, he gave a strangled scream as fire lanced over every nerve. Tilting her head, the Lady began “Forgive me… I…”

“Fuck you!”

The Lady stood, both brows raised to their fullest, her arms falling limp at her side. In her shock, her hair had returned to its jet black form a moment, then just as quickly returned to its normal state. Teeth bared, the Lady fists balled up, then with a smile, she loosened them. Reaching down, she slowly drew the end of her finger down a scar across the human’s right shoulder blade.

“I art impressed, mine pet. None before thou has ever been able to speak in the midst of my works, and none has dared to speak to their Lady in such a way ever.”

Digging her fingers into the light brown hair on his head, the Lady drew the human back up.

“And I assure thee… thou shan’t again….”
……………………………………………………

Lero winced as the snap of his mares wing being rebroken echoed out from the medical wings double. Behind the double doors, human, pegasi, and unicorn toiled over the wings, Celestia’s orders quite clear in their minds: restore Rainbow Dash, fully. Slowly, old feathers were pulled before the wings could be cast up, looks of disgust across the doctor’s faces. It must have been weeks since this mare had been properly groomed. Once finished, the wing was made immobile. She’d fly again, and just as well as she had before. Her wings would heal… her mind, however…

“Lero…”

The human turned toward the nurse who had poked her head out the door. Smiling, she tilted her head towards the room.

“She’s awake. A little groggy, but… she wants to see you.”

Author's Note

You didn't the Fair Folk were done, did you? Another piece is placed on the board.... Also, and this will probably not come up in story, Ramirez is bisexual. He was married for a bit, but... well, I hardly think I need to say it here, do you?

Well, anywho^^ Any grammer mishaps or general comments would be greatly appreciated. Later!