Love-locked and Breathless

Looks like you’ve hit the jackpot tonight.

Moments like this are almost too good to be true. The upper-Canterlot streets are deserted at this time in the late evening, due to yet another fancy event that everypony who’s anypony ‘simply must attend’. There isn’t a single do-gooder nor royal guard to be seen, except for a single stallion strutting around with a stuffed saddlebag, no doubt brimming with bits. A posh, middle-aged, upper-Canterlot unicorn who, if he is a somepony, you sure wouldn’t recognise him. And he’s trotting all by himself down these Canterlot streets, lost in his thoughts, with no idea that you’re following him.

Oh, and any second now, you’re going to attack him and steal his saddlebag.

Outright mugging isn’t usually your thing - that would be quick in-and-out burglary, if your talents are any indication - but you can’t let an opportunity like this slip by. No witnesses. Big payoff. And you could really use the cash. You could always use the cash. If you didn’t need bits to survive, you’d never do this sort of thing in the first place. Such is life.

Most rich ponies have their saddlebags crammed with personal belongings and bits (probably just spare change to them) and are incredibly easy targets, especially since they’ve been pampered for most of their lives. They usually put up no resistance whatsoever, and the few ponies that actually have the gall to fight back are knocked back in their place pretty quickly for their efforts. This guy looks like he’ll be no trouble at all. Showtime.

Just as he’s poised to turn a corner, you strike with the precision of somepony who’s done this a good few times before.

You throw your hoof at his head, the THUD! of the impact taking him completely off-guard.

With a mix of him stumbling in pain and leaping out of his fur coat in shock, he falls towards a wall in an attempt to regain his balance on all-fours. That’s the perfect time to strike again, pinning him up against the wall.

“Give me the bag and nopony gets hurt!”

You see his eyes widen when he recognises your gritty lower-Canterlot growl of an accent. If he’s smart, he’ll politely stay still as you grab his saddlebag and wrench it from his back-

THUMP!

Whoa. Did he just punch you? You could’ve sworn he just punched you.

That didn’t hurt in the slightest.

Being the generous and outgoing unicorn you are, you give him a free demonstration on how to properly punch somepony in the face. See? Swing it right between the eyes like this!

He responds to the free lesson by yelping in pain, and sliding a little further down the wall. Yet still he refuses to let go of his bag. Either the upper-Canterlot ponies are starting to choose money over their own wellbeing (which wouldn’t surprise you, honestly) or they’re becoming too privileged to know when they‘re being denied something.

“You just have to play persistent, don’t you?” you agree with yourself; it’s totally his own fault that he’s being mugged right now. He shouldn’t have made himself such an easy target. “Just let it go and I’ll leave, it’s not hard to-”

CRACK!

Huh. That sounded like something hard and heavy colliding with the back of your head.

Oh wait. It was.

You pass out before you even hit the ground.

*******

By the time you wake up, it was already game over for you.

You’re in the back of a royal guard’s chariot, with two armour-clad members of Her Majesty’s finest sat at either side of you. Your hooves are bound by steel hoof-cuffs, which you could undo easily if you wanted to. But you won’t. Both of the guards are bigger, meaner and, if their wings are any indication, faster than you. And they probably wouldn’t like you trying to escape.

“I’m under arrest, aren’t I?”

The two guards don’t say a word. They don’t even blink.

“So, you’re going to lock me in the Canterlot dungeons?”

Still no sound from them.

“You know my special talent is unlocking things, right? That includes cell doors. You guys are wasting your time taking me there. You can’t hold me.”

“… … …”

“But then again, I’ll just be caught and dragged back if I even attempt it. You royal pegasi are way faster than me, even wearing that heavy armour.”

“… … …”

“So… is your armour really made out of gold, or is it just painted? C'mon, it's boring back here!”

“… … …”

“Heheh. Hey, if you two fancy each other, say absolutely nothing.”

As you expected, they say absolutely nothing. You keep chuckling all the way to the dungeon.