Author's Note
Don't like the story? Please let me know what you think is wrong with it in the comments section below and thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this. Oh, and I would like to thank Choicler for editing. He is a huge help and I don't think this story would be what it is without him.
"Aww, my whiskey"
"RUUUNN!! I'll hold them off!" Screams a stranger as your father grabs you from your crib. From your perch on his shoulder you can see the stallion who told you to run fighting creatures from stories you thought were only told to scare you. A brilliant flash of blue blinds you as the stallion fighting the nightmares bursts into brilliant blue flames. Though on fire he fights on, the flame engulfing his body only seeming to hurt the creatures he hits, in turn engulfing them and burning them to a crisp. The scent of charred meat fills your nostrils and makes you nauseous. Then another flash forces you to shield your eyes once again. This time when you open them all you see is white. You’re suddenly thrust back in to reality and are awake, screaming as sweat drips from your chin. Your bed is a mess, blankets tossed about the bed as if a twister had come through and had thrown your pillows across the room. Another nightmare from your past has come back to haunt you.
*sigh* "maybe this new place Madam Regina is sending you to will take some of the nerve away. What was it called, Ponyville? You flop back down onto the bed, exhausted, and try to sleep again: Useless. You look to the clock in the motel room you're currently in. 4 O'clock am.
"Great, an hour before I needed to get up." you roll across the little twin sized bed to the clock and shut off the alarm you had set. Time to start the day I guess. You roll drowsily onto the floor just barely catching yourself on your toes and knuckles, the adrenaline from the sudden fall chasing away your grogginess, and started to do pushups on the hardwood floor. Early or not I have to start the day off right less I lose my edge. As you continue you count aloud, "One...two...three..." you begin to feel the fatigue in your arms from your actions so early in the morning but press on with the words from your father ringing in your head.
Your mind will tell your body to give up way before it reaches its limits. He would constantly tell you this if you failed to do something, then would make you try again.
"Twenty three...twenty four...twenty five..." you begin to feel a slight agitation from your knuckles as you pass thirty pushups. The fatigue in your arms now replaced with a mild burning sensation that you had come to enjoy a little.
"Fifty five... fifty six... fifty seven..." now your body is catching up and you feel, and hear, your stomach rumble as you go. Then your bladder catches up but you hold it, ever intent on holding a steady pace.
"Seventy eight...seventy nine...eighty...done" you dash to the bathroom your bladder fit to burst and accidently slam the bathroom door shut behind you.
~flush~ you step out of the bathroom and fall to the floor. The ground rises to meet you and you turn at the last second and land on your back. Up next, the abs that everyone is jealous over. You begin to do some crunches, simple at first counting out loud,
"One...two...three..." then as you hit ten you start to swing your arms from side to side on your way up,
"Eleven...twelve...thirteen..." you continue to do this for another forty, a fire steadily growing in your core.
"Fifty six...fifty seven...fifty eight..." As you hit sixty you straighten your legs and lift them high while simultaneously reaching up with your hands and grabbing your toes. You reach up above your head with your arms and bring your legs back under you and repeat this motion for the last twenty.
"Seventy eight...seventy nine...eighty...done." you get up and make your way to the mini-fridge installed in the little kitchenette in your hotel room. You open the door to inspect its contents. Lots of overly priced liquor, some not to be trusted deli meat, and some hazardous sushi that looks like it expired a year ago in a dessert. The growl in your stomach reasserts itself and you grab the thing least likely to kill you. A bottle of apple family apple whiskey. The bottle was reasonably sized and had a dark brown tint to the glass. The label had the silhouette of a mare with a fairly big bust leaning on a fence and looking up into what should have been the sky. You walk back over to the little bed you were at and sit down. You pop the cap off of the bottle, "bottoms up" you down half the bottle in one go and relish in the taste as the last few drops go down. Sweet but not candy sweet, with a little tartness that wasn't over bearing. A finely crafted brew indeed. You decide to leave, what little you owned being already in your car, you walk out of the room with the bottle of whiskey in your hand and up to the front desk to pay for it and the rest of the room fee. Holy fucking Celestia are you serious. Thirty bits for a drink, Luna damn. You walk to your car, an old 1998 tracer with a beat up dashboard and mismatching rims, pull out your keys, and get in. as you turn the key the engine clicks and doesn't start.
"Luna damned you peace of shit work" you pump the gas a little and try again, it starts right up.
"Now that's what I’m talking about, you beautiful hunk of scrap metal you."
As you pull out of the hotel parking lot you take a little detour to take care of a client, being the studious Pontufex that you were you had to get this done. As you drove you finished the last of the bottle of whiskey and tossed the bottle into the back seat with a burp. You make a few rights and a few lefts at random to make sure the few cars out this early aren't following you. Finally you pull up outside on a decently sized two story home with a huge yard surrounding it. You park but leave the car running, just one of your rules: always have a quick way out. You get out and head up to the house. As you get to the front door you note that it is not only unlocked, but slightly ajar. You pull out the pocket knife you always keep with you and extend the blade. With caution you open the door silently. As you start to open it you are greeted with a fist straight to the face. You didn't know when it started but all of a sudden you could now fly, or at least fall with style. the punch having enough force to launch you of the porch you twist midair and land in the yard eyes glued to the door to find and target the one brazen enough to attack you so head on. As you look, out steps the biggest earth pony you had ever seen. He stood at least seven feet tall and had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the porch roof. Along with him stepped the reason you were here. A noble official that had gotten a little too nosey and had threatened you and yours with his new found knowledge.
"I had heard that you and your kind were the best at what you do. well, Onslaught here is the best at what he does, and what he does is stop ponies like you from doing what it is you do." he told you as his smug little grin grew on his face,
"And I will enjoy watching him do what he does best. Go get him." with that the fellow named Onslaught barreled towards you in a hoofball tackle kind of way. You jump over him slashing at his exposed back. "GAAARRRHHH" onslaught screams as blood drips down his backside. "you'll pay for that runt!" he runs at you again the same way, but as you jump he stops way quicker than you would have thought possible and he grabs your legs and throws you back to the earth with the force of mountain. You hit the dirt and a sharp pain runs up your spine from your lower back. Still holding on to your legs onslaught raises you again and throws you at a tree. You hit head first and see stars, years of practice and experience keep you conscious, but they don't keep you from vomiting all over yourself in combination from the hit and the whiskey you drank earlier. Damn, that shit was expensive too. As you regain control of your stomach you notice onslaught taking his time to get to you. Arrogant prick. What does he think I am a bucking school filly with a knife? Time to show my true colors. As you stand up and get into a stance, Onslaught laughs,
"Guess you don't know when to quit. Now I was gonna let you crawl away from this, but since you're so content with dying, I think I’ll oblige you." This guy is really full of himself, I mean come on dude, any normal pony would be dead with a broken back and a cracked skull right now. You look onslaught up and down one more time, and then bring your feet together in a tower stance with your hands together as if in prayer in front of you.
"Oh look, he's going to pray to Celestia for help. Well she won't help scum like you!" yelled the official on the porch. Man, no pony has any courtesy or modesty anymore. As onslaught continues you move into a front stance, the incantation complete. Electricity crackles around your feet and rose up your body. The sky above grew darker and darker as the wind picked up and more electric tendrils snake over your body. Using the electricity to heighten your movement you flash behind onslaught and deliver a fatal blow to his spin in the form of an upper cut to the lower curve in his spine simultaneously sending the equivalent of lightning up his back. The smell of burning flesh fills your nostrils and the nightmare from earlier flashes to the front of your thoughts. All of the electricity that had bound itself to you now shoots off in different directions as you lose control, the memory of your dream all you can see; you begin to scream and everything goes white. When you come too it is raining heavily. The bod of onslaught no more than a puddle of muck. You turn to the porch and see that one of the stray tendrils had hit your reason for being here, and now were just a pile of ash slowly disappearing into the wind. You stand up taking to affect how wet you have become. Everything on you is drenched and with the wind you feel as though you are in a freezer. You move to the trunk of your car, which is luckily still running. You open the trunk and strip. you grab a suit case, shut the trunk, and quickly get into the driver's side.in the car you open the suit case and pull out a sweeter, now a make shift towel. You dry yourself off and dress yourself with the clothes in the case. You do a mental check, shit. You left your knife out in the yard. Really?!?! I can't catch a break can I? You exit your car mumbling curses as you quickly move to retrieve your knife. You look over by the tree and sure enough it's there. Now with knife in hand you run back to the safety and warmth of your car.
