Fight Club

Chapters

Prologue
Midnight vs. Echo
Midnight vs. Sky
Midnight vs. Night
Midnight vs. Popularity
Midnight vs. Spitfire
Midnight vs. Dash
Midnight vs. Garbonza
Midnight vs. Bounty
Midnight vs. Justice (Part 1)
Midnight vs. Justice (Part 2)
Midnight vs. Justice (Part 3)
Midnight vs. Government

Prologue

Copyright © 2015. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is owned by Hasbro. The character of Midnight Dream is inspired by and based on the character of Anana “Anna” Umbra and I have no idea who owns her. The cover image is owned by me, with vectors from various sources, but you can use it if you want.

Prologue

“What am I going to do?”

A pile of bills sat on the kitchen table. The gray bat pony that sat next to the table brushed some of her purple mane away from her eye while she stared in increasing dread at the pile of bills. And what a pile it was. It seemed every conceivable bill had decided to mail itself to her that day. Water, gas, food, garbage disposal, property tax, mortgage—that wasn't even including all the tabs from the gardening centers that were also due. Her worry only increased as she glanced at the other pile of bills from last month that still hadn't been paid yet.

Midnight Dream looked away from the bills that bore her name. Maybe they were a paradox and if she didn't actually see them, they weren't really there. Unfortunately, that caused her gaze to land on her bank statement instead. She groaned before rubbing her eyes, “What am I going to do?” A drink. That's what she needed. Not the alcoholic kind—although that would be nice right about now—she couldn't afford it. Just a nice glass of less-than-a-penny-per-gallon tap water.

She got up from her wooden chair and fetched a glass from the drying towel next to the sink before filling it up. Her kitchen was what realtors would call “cozy.” In other words, it was pretty cramped. The table was smack dab in the middle of the small room and took up most of the open space. Midnight didn't mind. It's not as though she had the luxury of cooking complex meals. At least all that counter space could still be put to good use.

Midnight slowly drank from the glass while she looked over all the potted plants that filled up her kitchen counters and smiled for the first time since she started opening the bills. She loved gardening. She loved it so much it was her special talent, as the orange-colored blossom on her butt could attest to.

It was just so peaceful. So relaxing. She could spend hours upon hours caring for her plants. Pruning them. Watering them. You name it, she could probably do it. There was just such a wide selection of plants. The flowers helped accent her small cottage, while the many fruits (even though most were culinarily vegetables) gave her some needed nutrition. She could go on and on about all the benefits plants had, but there was one benefit she was lacking.

She loved gardening, but gardening didn't love her balance sheet. For all the pleasantries Hollow Shades provided: the isolation of the surrounding forest, the large bat pony population the Night Guard's presence created, the small town lifestyle, the unidentified green ooze that was reportedly runoff from said Guard's military base—okay, maybe not that one.

For all that, Hollow Shades lived up to it's name. It was hollow husk devoid of much in the way of gardens or landscaping—probably due to that green ooze—and it was very shady, thanks to that dense forestation that encompassed it. Combine that with a population almost entirely devoted to and reliant on the Night Guard and you get one of the worst locations for a gardener.

Midnight sighed. She could always join the Night Guard. She looked down at her lean, athletic body. She was certainly fit enough—gardening didn't do much for exercise, even with the fifty pound bags of mulch, but that didn't mean she couldn't stay fit and healthy. No point in letting all those phys ed classes as a foal go to waste.

Who knows? Maybe they could use her talents to research new crop hybrids that were immune from attack, or she'd be the one tasked with organizing Princess Luna's garden. She rubbed her eyes again. Who was she kidding? She'd be a grunt who'd get killed trying to stop Princess Twilight from turning everyone into dolls or something. If she was somehow lucky enough to use her talents, it'd probably be to develop a plant based bio-weapon or something.

If the Night Guard hadn't been an option when she turned eighteen, it still wasn't an option two years later. Those bills weren't going to pay themselves, though. She sighed as she placed the empty glass into her sink. Moving to a more gardener-friendly location was really the only sensible option. Hollow Shades' market just wasn't right for one of her talent. She looked at her leathery wings. Bat ponies were very rare outside of the enclave they had based themselves in. Moving out of Hollow Shades might solve her employment issues, but it would likely complicate her social problems. Fangs weren't exactly something everypony had.

Even then, her employment difficulties weren't guaranteed to be solved. Who'd want to hire a bat pony to do their gardening when earth ponies had a de facto monopoly on the trade? Unicorns did magic, earth ponies did plants, pegasi did weather, and bat ponies did spooky Night Guard things. She groaned. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe gardening really wasn't what she was supposed to be doing. She looked down at her cutie mark. A flower blossom could mean a lot of things.

Midnight shook her head of the doubting thoughts and sat back down at the table. She could worry and doubt her career choices later. Right now, she had debts to pay. Moving might solve her future cash problems, but she still had present issues that needed addressing. She'd probably have to take out a loan and then worry about repaying that while trying to scrape together some more money. Or maybe she could start teaching gardening at the rec center and get a few extra bits.

Her attention turned to the small pile of junk mail that sat off to the side of the table. On top of a pizza ad sat a small flyer that caught her amber eye. More specifically, it was the “Guaranteed Bits!” at the bottom of the flyer. She was no foal. Get rich quick schemes were as useless as an annual seedling in October. She already had money issues. She didn't need to add white collar crimes to the list.

But the flyer didn't espouse any get rich rhetoric. It looked like it was some kind of fighting organization, if the two silhouettes on the flyer were any indication. She skimmed over the two columns of text that were on it. It all seemed really blatant in its pitch. Beat somepony up and get paid for it. And it really emphasized the pay part.

A little too much, if she thought so. Her nose crinkled up. Somepony probably discovered her money woes and tried a little direct advertising. She really should just crumple it up and toss it into the trash. She wasn't about to be taken advantage of just because she was desperate for some bits. But just as she picked it up with a hoof and started to ball it up, she paused.

She really did need the bits. A loan was a terrible idea and one that would only lead to this same bitter display at her kitchen table next month when the first interest payment was due. The rec center wasn't likely to pay much—certainly not enough to get by. And the next Gardening Garbonza, where she could scrape up some bits selling her seedlings, wasn't until next month.

She was stuck. So what if they were targeting her? If this “Underground Fighting League” paid well enough, what difference would it make? She'd have bits. She'd pay her bills. And she could focus more on doing what she loved. This could be exactly what she was looking for, and she was about to throw it all away because of a little pride and a bruised ego.

The flyer was laid back down on the table and the creases smoothed out. She stared intently at it before her gaze shifted to her lean, muscular body. She was certainly fit enough for any possible fight. Her parents—like any good bat pony parents—had reared her with the goal of becoming a trained member of the Night Guard.

It could be easy. What were the chances she'd be matched up against another bat pony or some highly trained martial artist? She'd likely get to fight some random pony who was much less athletic than she was and hopefully even worse at fighting. She may have muscles but she hadn't the first clue how to really use them. The self defense class she took at the rec center hadn't been the best—well, except for that cool “anti-blood sucking” defense maneuver they had taught her. Good thing it was free.

She looked down at the address that was scribbled in red ink at the bottom of the flyer. That was in town. It seemed this “Underground Fighting League” had a local office. That settled it. She grabbed the flyer and walked toward her front door before pausing. Did she really want to do this? It could end horribly. She could get hurt, or worse, lose her first fight and not have a bit to show for it.

She glanced over her shoulder at the pile of bills that still sat menacingly on her table. Did she really have much of a choice?

********

Midnight glanced down at the flyer once more. No, that was the right address. In front of her sat one of the Night Guard's large warehouses. There were several of the things dotted around town—one right in the middle of downtown, several in the military base—but most were tucked away just on the edge of the forest that encircled Hollow Shades.

The trees that made up the forest the warehouse was tucked into swayed gently in the spring breeze. They were tall. Most of them taller than the warehouse. This forest was so old, she wondered if it had seen Celestia and Luna's ascension. The trees had just awoken from their winter slumber and were starting to bud. No doubt, in a few weeks, Hollow Shades would be completely encircled by waves of green.

It was rumored the trees made spotting the sprawling buildings full of secrets from the air more difficult, but she somehow doubted that. Just look at it. It was huge. Easily five stories high and at least a hoofball field wide. All that red brick that made up its facade certainly didn't do a thing to “conceal” it. She suspected the Night Guard just got the land cheap and made up the “spotting” story as a way to explain it and still sound cool.

She walked up to the old oak door that made up what she assumed was its main entrance and huffed when she saw the sign that was next to the door, “Authorized Personnel Only,” This was some kind of a prank, wasn't it? There were no fights. No bits. Just some acne riddled teen ponies trying to get her arrested for trespassing.

She started to turn around. But what if it wasn't? It wouldn't hurt to try. The Night Guard wouldn't keep their front door locked, now would they? All she needed to do was try to open that oak door. If it was locked, she could go home and sulk over her pile of bills, but if it wasn't...

The door pushed open with a groan of its hinges. She walked in the door and was met by a stallion sitting behind a desk. She was shocked. It was a huge warehouse, so why was the room so tiny? A bench was pressed against the one of the walls and that coffee table that sat in front of the bench really shouldn't have been there. There was hardly any leg room.

The walls looked brand new and, in her non-expert opinion, looked very shoddily done. They hadn't even been sanded and bits of had plaster dripped down them and hardened into a rough texture. The walls weren't even properly secured to the concrete floor and gaps sometimes large enough to stick a hoof into could be seen. No wonder the room was so small. It wasn't even suppose to be there.

She tried to ignore the hideous fake fern that sat in the corner, but it's crumpled plastic leaves seemed to burrow their dyed green edges into her very soul. Why? Why would somepony do such a thing? It was a mockery—a shallow, false imitation—of the real thing. Why would somepony want to mock the elegance and uniqueness—what other vascular plants reproduced with spores—of a fern?

The stallion looked in bewilderment at the bat pony who was glaring at the dusty fern in the corner, “Uh, Miss? Can I help you?”

She looked away from the disgusting fern and at the stallion, “Oh, yes. I got a flyer in the mail about an,” she looked down at the flyer, “'Underground Fighting League' and this was the address in the flyer. This is the right place, isn't it? 'Cause the sign out front says—”

“Oh, no. You're in the right place,” he smiled. “We get that a lot,” he stood up and opened a door near the desk. “If you'll come with me, I'll introduce you to Bill Booking, the League's fight manager for the Hollow Shades region.”

She followed him out of cramped room and down a long hallway. She looked through some of the open doors on each side. Some of the offices had occupants busy filling out reports, and some of them were simply empty. The stallion knocked on one of the open doors before peeking his head in, “Hey, Bill. We got another one.”

“Good, send him in.”

Him? Midnight walked past the stallion and into the office. Behind the desk sat a brown pegasus stallion. He put down the pencil in his hoof and looked her over for a moment, “Of course it's another mare,” he mumbled to himself, “It'll at least keep the stallion viewers happy.”

“Huh?” What exactly was that supposed to mean?

“Nothing, nothing—just talking to myself,” he pointed at one of the chairs on the other side of desk, “Please have a seat,” she sat down and looked over the office. Off to the side were several filing cabinets and on the wall behind him was a dusty chalkboard. An end table with an oil lamp on it was tucked into one corner of the room, “So what brings you to the Underground Fighting League today?”

She snapped her gaze over to the stallion, “Oh. Um, I received this flyer in the mail today and figured I'd stop by to see what all the fuss was about,” Call it embarrassment or pride or whatever you want, but she wasn't about to start blabbing her financial issues to every random pony she met.

“I see. Well, let me introduce myself. I'm Bill Booking—” Midnight gave him a look. Bill Booking? What kind of a name was that? He sighed when he saw her face, “My father worked in a billing department and my mother was a travel agent. They compromised on the name. And yours?”

“Midnight Dream.”

“Ah. Okay, Miss Dream,” he picked the pencil back up and fiddled with it while he leaned against the desk, “I take it you want to fight then?”

“Is there another way to get bits?” She'd definitely be up to some desk work. Or, even better, replacing all those horrible plastic ferns.

“So you're in need of some bits?”

Crap. So much for her pride, “I'm a little tight right now, yeah.”

“You can rest assured we have an excellent pay scale. The more you win, the bigger your paychecks get,” he reached down and tossed a manila folder full of graphs and information brochures onto the desk.

She feigned interest in the folder of information and 401k plans, “That's great and all, but I want to know just what this is all about before I walk into it.”

“Alright then,” he opened the folder, pulled out a brochure, and opened it, “You've seen or at least heard about those bare hoof fights earth ponies have in the hexagons, right?”

She was never much into sports, except maybe the type of grass they were playing on. She was definitely not into combat sports, “Sure.” No point in unnecessarily dragging the conversation on.

“And pegasi air acrobatics?”

Her tufted ears perked. That was more like it. Although she still preferred the exciting world of aphid demarcation, “Oh, yeah.”

“What about unicorn magic tournaments?”

Her nose inadvertently crinkled up. If there was one thing she definitely didn't want to watch, it was unicorns showing off. Bill picked up on her displeasure, “Not a fan? I don't blame you,” he leaned over the desk, “I'm not either. Regardless, we had a dream of combining all those into one big tournament—although 'tournament' is a rather loose term here. There's not really a firm organization or brackets to this thing just yet.”

“Okay. I could kind of get it would be about fighting, based on 'fighting' being in the name, but just what are we talking about here. 'Fighting's' a pretty general word.”

He reached into the folder and pulled out some kind of legal document with paragraph after paragraph on it, “If you want to be precise, we are a—” he cleared his throat, “—mixed martial art general combat sports organization using a diverse range of facilities and fighters to obtain as wide a field of fighting styles and abilities as is possible in order to excite and thrill our audience.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Wait, audience? So it's going to be in an arena full of ponies.” A little chill crept up her back. She was never the most sociable—she has a house full of plants for Luna's sake—and the thought of thousands of eyes staring at her while she made a foal of herself trying to punch somepony—ugh. She shuddered.

He put down the sheet of paper, “Oh, no. Although we could have a fight take place in one for the novelty.” He stood up and walked over to one of the filing cabinets, “No, we have a really exciting way to reach our audience.” He reached in the top drawer and pulled out a large blue crystal, “Isn't it grand?”

It looked like a pretty ordinary crystal. It would have been impressively large—if a whole empire of them hadn't popped up a year earlier. Now, Equestria was flooded with the things, “I guess?”

He walked back over and placed it on the desk. She certainly didn't sound like she thought it was grand, “Do you know what this is?”

Midnight's face reflected in its shiny blue surface as she stared into it. She looked back up at the brown pegasus, “It's... a crystal. Maybe a gem if you're lucky?” She didn't know why he'd be lucky. Those were even more common than crystals were.

He sighed like a parent would to an ignorant child, “No, it's a recording crystal,” he squeezed the crystal with a wing, causing it to glow a dark blue for a moment before a holographic image was projected into the air.

Midnight leaned back in shock, causing herself to go tumbling off the chair as it fell to the ground. What was that?! She peeked up from behind the chair. The three dimensional moving image was of an earth pony running on a track, occasionally leaping over hurdles. The image would spark and go out of focus every once in awhile, like it had bad reception or had been slightly corrupted while recording.

Bill beamed, “It's magnificent, isn't it? Magic lost with the Crystal Empire all those years ago. It really makes one think how much more advanced we'd be right now if that tyrant hadn't come along. Anyway,” he tapped the crystal and the image faded away, “The fights will be recorded onto these beauties and sold to the public. They'll be able to watch in the comfort of their own homes. No tickets. No arenas. No nothing.”

Midnight couldn't help but smirk. That really was impressive. Not to mention a probable goldmine. If she had any money, she'd probably invest in the things and get in on the ground floor. She furrowed her brow as the meaning of his words sunk in, “But if the fighting won't be in an arena, then where will it happen?”

He smiled, “Wherever. That's the great part about it all. The fights will be scheduled only a week or so in advance and could potentially take place in any location. Not only will that give the fighters more places to work with, but it'll keep viewers interested as they tune in to see not just who their favorite fighter will be fighting, but where, as well.”

She placed the chair upright and sat back down. That did not sound good, “But what about rules or laws?” Equestria wasn't the most cumbersome, legal-wise, but street fighting? That seemed a bit over-the-top.

“Internally, we simply ask you don't engage in excessive violence—we're aiming for a general audience. Externally, as a registered sporting organization, our liability is covered by the FREE Sport Act of 895. As the fights will be taking place on property with the owner's consent, there's no issue there. We, of course, do request you do not involve non-fighters in any of the fights, for obvious reasons. Violation of these simple rules may result in your termination of employment. Other than that, you just have to defeat your opponent, whether that means knocking them unconscious or having them yield is up to you and them.”

“Hmm,” it didn't sound like there was any refereeing or regulations or anything. Just bare hoofed fighting in random places. There'd be better, less dangerous opportunities to make some bits. She was sure of it, “So, what kind of pay are we talking about?” Of course, it still never hurt to ask.

Bill smirked. It was always either money or fame that motivated potential fighters, “You'll get five hundred bits—cash—for the first fight, whether you win or lose. After that, each win nets you increasing amounts that will vary depending on your popularity and other factors like the difficulty of your opponent, setting, etc. Each lose will net you substantially less than a win.”

Five hundred bits?! She only made a hundred last week gardening. Granted, it was still early in the year, but bills weren't going to wait for the spring thaw to fully kick in. And that was just for the first fight. If she actually did well...

Bill's smirk widened into a full smile upon seeing the look on Midnight's face. If she got that excited for a measly five hundred bits, she'd definitely be sucked in. But would she actually be a good fighter? “I take it you're interested?”

She nodded, distracted by visions of bills with no balance and piles of that really expensive peat moss she always had to force herself to walk past in the hardware store, “Absolutely.”

He walked around the desk and over to the still open office door, “Then there's just one last thing we need to do. If you'll follow me.” He walked out and into the hall.

Midnight got up and hastily followed him out of the office, “What do we have to do?” It was probably some kind of corporate bureaucratic red tape like talking with a lawyer or signing a contract.

The two walked toward a red metal door at the end of the hallway. The brown stallion looked back at the bat pony, “You need a proper introduction to the Underground Fighting League if you're going to become a fighter. You want to know what it's all about.”

That made a lot of sense, “Yeah, you're right,” She peeked in another open office door and saw several bat ponies slumped over their desks snoring while a few others were designing some pretty elaborate paper airplanes and tossing them out an office window to see how far they went. She huffed before catching up with Bill. They were probably getting paid way more than five hundred bits.

She looked at the door, “So what is this, exactly? Some kinda legal stuff we have to do?”

Bill pressed the crash bar and opened the door, “You could think of it as a sort of interview/orientation.” He held the door open for Midnight, “Good luck.”

Midnight stared at the massive warehouse that lay in front of her. Dozens of rows of shelves packed full of crates and boxes stacked to the rafters filled the place. In front of the shelves, more boxes and crates were chaotically stacked, as if awaiting placement on the shelves. Off to one side was a stack of wooden barrels. Heavy duty lights were suspended from the metal rafters and illuminated the building. That was good considering she didn't see a single window. There were a few skylights, though. She looked down. She was apparently standing on some kind of raised wooden loading platform.

Wait. Good luck? She turned around, “Hey, what's that supposed to—Bill?” The red door was closed and there was no sign of the brown pegasus, “Bill, are you there?” she tried to open the door but could only jiggle the handle. It was locked, “Hello?” she knocked on it several times but there was no response.

She turned back around and looked over the warehouse for a way out. Wasn't there supposed to be emergency exit signs for occasions just like this? Her eyes settled onto a light gray bat pony who was leaning against one of the boxes. She sighed in relief. For a second there, she thought something might have happened. Must be the orientation.

She hopped off the wood platform and onto the concrete floor and walked toward the pony, “Hey. I guess I'm here for the orientation?”

The mare tossed down the magazine she was reading and looked up, “Oh, is that what he's calling it now? Alrighty then,” she stretched out, causing several of her bones to pop and crack, before she straightened up, “Think fast.”

Midnight stopped, “What?” The mare jumped from the box and charged at her, fangs bared. “What are you doing?!” Midnight dove to one side and skidded across the floor.

The bat pony turned around, slightly surprised. Very seldom did rookies successfully dodge her first attack, “I'm mango farming. What does it look like I'm doing?”

Midnight stood up and backed away warily several yards, before she bumped into a crate, yelped in shock, and shot two stories into the air. She hovered in midair, trying to get her bearings and slow her rapid heartbeat.

The bat pony snickered, “Geez, you're skittish. What's got your ear tufts roughed?”

Midnight glared, “What's going on?! This isn't an orientation.”

The mare lightly cantered forward, deliberately taking several detours around several of the boxes as she slowly winded her way toward Midnight, “In a way, isn't it?”

Seeing the blue-maned pony inch ever closer, Midnight increased her height and slowly drifted back, “No, it's not!”

“Oh?” the mare's pace increased, “You agreed to join the UFL, haven't you?” Midnight slowly nodded, “Well then. Welcome,” the mare suddenly jumped onto a crate and used it to propel herself into the air and straight at Midnight, “My name's Echo and this is your first fight.”

End of Prologue

Author's Note

AKA The “Weird Clopfic” Story. Just in case the lack of a crossover tag doesn't make it obvious, this has nothing to do with the film or novel.

I'm predicting most will read this for the sheer “WTF” factor. For those who are: yes, what you are about to read is a fetish. Yes, it is my fetish. And yes, the scenarios/scenes presented within this story are what I actually clop to. For the very, very few who are antiquated with the fetish, I felt like contributing something to the “genre” that seems entirely too dependent on the Twilight/Trixie interaction—especially when you have all these athletic characters you could use.

As mentioned in the disclaimer, Midnight Dream's based on the pre-existing character of Anana Umbra—although minus the blood phobia. Here's what Anana looks like and, in turn, what Midnight also looks like. I would have just used Anana directly, but I'm not a fan of her name.

Fun fact: this was originally called “Prelude” until I realized preludes are musical and prologues are literary.

Midnight vs. Echo

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter One: Midnight vs Echo

Midnight shook her head. Maybe the warehouse would finally stop spinning around. She looked around to see dozens of boxes piled around her. Sprockets and gears had spilled out of many of them and onto the floor. Above, the metal shelf was bent out of shape from the impact. Midnight winced as she tossed several of the gears off of herself and sat up, “Ouch,” she rubbed her purple mane.

Echo popped her head out of a pile of sprockets several feet away, “Wow. Wasn't expecting that. Guess I should have watched my aim.”

“Ya think? What's wrong with you?!” This was insane. She wasn't here to fight. She hadn't prepped or stretched or anything! There hadn't even been a contract signed.

The lean bat pony slipped out of the sprockets, “I told you. This is your first fight. I'm not just gonna just let you sucker punch me. Be aggressive, that's how you win.”

Midnight backed away from the pile of boxes and gears, “No no no no no. I did not agree to any of this.”

Echo looked over in confusion, “But you said you agreed to be in the fighting league. It's right there in the title—fighting.”

“Yeah, but Bill said—”

The bat pony approached Midnight, “Bill says a lot of things. Doesn't mean they're true,” Midnight scrunched up her muzzle into a pout. That was not how you were supposed to conduct business, “Now, you have two options. Forfeit the match, or fight. What'll it be?”

Midnight opened her mouth to answer but closed it. She'd been roped into a fight without her even knowing it. She was going to get five hundred bits regardless—unless that was another lie that slimy stallion had told her—but if she won, she'd be clear to make even more bits.

“Ooohh, that got the gears turning,” Echo picked up one of the sprockets she was standing near, “Keekeekee, ah. I love having these fights in warehouses,” she tossed it back into the pile, “There's just so much material to work with.”

No! That stallion had blown any credibility he'd had. This whole thing was probably just one big racket. There were no bits. No customers. Just cheap crystals and false hopes. She should have never trusted a mail flyer. She'd cut her loses, get whatever bits she could and get out there.

Back to a kitchen table full of bills and a special talent she couldn't even make a living off of. She winced. What if it wasn't a racket? That blue crystal did look pretty real and Bill had set up shop in a Night Guard warehouse. It couldn't entirely be illegitimate. If she beat Echo, she could still jump ship with whatever bits she could get, but if she didn't fight the mare, she could lose out on the best chance she had yet at getting out of debt.

She smirked, “I pick 'fight.'”

“Good choice. We ca—” A terrible groan emanated from the shelf they had crashed into. Both ponies jerked their heads upward to see the top half of the large metal structure shift several feet as it bent down. A few of the remaining boxes on it fell to the ground with a crash. Echo looked at Midnight, “We can start by getting away from this thing before it collapses.”

“Good idea,” Midnight turned around and walked away from the mess before it could get a whole lot messier. Echo followed, being sure to remain behind the mare. They walked several rows of shelves away from the crippled shelf, passing a few stacked crates and even a really cool looking pyramid made entirely out of helmets. It dawned on Midnight. They were in a Night Guard warehouse. Who knew what kinds of amazing military hardware was in that place.

Echo looked back to make sure they were a safe distance away from the shelf before she ran up and tackled Midnight to the ground, “Don't let your guard down just 'cause we're getting away from something dangerous. At the very least, don't let your opponent walk behind you. That's just about the worst thing you could do. Especially when she can do this,” Echo rapidly jabbed Midnight's ribs with her forehooves several times

Midnight grunted in pain. She really should have just forfeited. It was starting to feel like it wasn't worth five hundred bits. This wasn't at all how any of this was supposed to go. Echo wasn't fat or out of shape, she was just as lean and athletic as she was, “Get off!” Midnight twisted her forehooves around over her head and weakly jabbed at the gray mare sitting on her back.

Due to the awkward angle and Echo's positioning, her feeble punches barely touched the mare. Echo looked down, “Come on. Is this your best? You gotta work for that win. You'll never get anywhere around here if you keep this up. You just have to stop horsing around.”

There was silence for a moment as the pun settled into the air. Midnight then heard Echo chortle and roll off her, kicking her legs up in the air as she laughed, “Keekeekeekee, horsing! The classics are always the best.”

Midnight stood up and stared flatly at the bat pony who was now lying on her back. If there was great benefit to Hollow Shades, it was that it didn't have a terrible pun in the name. Why most of Equestria was named like that, she'd never know.

Echo shakily stood up, “Ah, that's the stuff.” She looked at Midnight and the glare that had formed on her face, “Oh, come on. You had to have least smirked,” she suddenly ran at Midnight, causing her to stumble onto her back in shock, “Or at least taken the opportunity to attack me. I really do need to stop laughing at them when fighting, but they're just so dang punny Kee! Punny. Another classic.”

Midnight used her hind legs to kick the unfunny mare away from her. Great. Not only did she have to fight a pony much better at combat than she was expecting, but she had to deal with awful word play as well. Five hundred bits was seeming like chump change at this rate, and she was the chump who'd been sucked into it.

Echo rebounded from the kick and crept around Midnight, rubbing her now sore shoulder, “That's quite a powerful kick you have. You just might make a buck in this league. Keekee, buck. Somepony help me, I just can't stop.”

Midnight jumped up. There was no way she was giving that pony the satisfaction of pouncing on her after a joke like that. The two stalked around each other. Midnight glanced away to look around the warehouse. They'd moved away from the bent shelf and were now moving toward an aisle full of equipment. She grimaced. The shelves on either side of the aisle made it a tight corridor. She might be able to use it to her advantage.

In one quick move, Midnight twisted herself around and jumped into the air. She flapped her leathery wings and flew several feet off the concrete toward the aisle. Echo looked on in surprise, “Hey! Where ya going? You're not supposed to run away. This isn't a race, it's a fight. Come back here!” She took off and gave chase to the fleeing bat pony.

Midnight flew up close to the rafters as she swept through the aisle. From what she could gather from the blur that sped past her, purple and gray armor was stacked right up to the rafters on the shelves to her right and the ones to her left were completely barren save for a few scattered boxes. Echo gently batted at her tail, causing her to jump in panic and nearly swerve right into one of the shelves.

“I don't know what made you think zipping around in a warehouse full of obstacles was a good idea, but it's not,” the two abruptly jerked their bodies to the side to avoid a concrete pillar that held up the roof, “You could kill yourself doing this,” a smile wormed it's way onto Echo's face, “Why, what you're doing could be a grave mistake.”

Midnight audibly groaned. She had to figure out a way to win soon. If she didn't, those puns would probably kill her. This aisle and flight hadn't done a thing to improve her chances. And it's not like flying away from Echo would somehow cause the mare to forfeit.

A row of shelves full of sacks lay ahead of the two at the end of the aisle. Midnight grit her teeth. It was a really tight turn and she wasn't the best flyer. Better to slow down and take the turn easy than risk slamming into a metal rod or sack at full speed. She slowed the pace of her wing beats, but Echo kept on barreling forward.

“Gotcha!” Echo grabbed onto her tail and yanked it.

“Yah!” Midnight looked back and kicked a hind leg at Echo, “Let go!” The kicks were ineffective as Echo bobbed and weaved around them.

“No, you're the one who wanted to turn tail and run,” Echo's eyes widened in glee as she flipped Midnight's purple tail around, “Keekeekee—I didn't even mean to make that pun.”

Midnight jerked herself forward while Echo was distracted laughing at her own joke. Her tail slipped from the mare's hooves. She turned her head back around. Finally, now she could... crash into the sacks because she was distracted by that damn mare, “Uh oh.” She flared her wings to try and slow down. Her hooves shot out in front of her to brace and hopefully absorb most of the impact.

Echo wiped the tear from her eye, “I'll have to rememb—oh mangoes,” too distracted by her own humor, she had also failed to see the end of the aisle and followed Midnight into a line of heavy duty burlap sacks.

“Ow.” Midnight rubbed her wing. It wasn't broken. It couldn't be. She was self employed. She didn't have insurance—and certainly couldn't afford it if she did. It would cost a fortune to get the thing checked out by a doctor. But an open wing was a broken wing and she had flared them wide open. She hobbled out of the sacks and onto the concrete floor.

She looked up at the shelf and the piles of bolts and screws that had showered down from the ripped open sacks. Somehow, she had ended up at the bottom of the shelf. She wasn't quite sure how. Things were a little fuzzy.

Echo poked out her head out from between two sacks several yards away. Evidently she had also fallen down the shelf, “Wow, two crashes in one day. What a burlapse of judgeme—uff!” A heavy sack strategically hit her in the face.

Midnight smiled. What a shot. Who would have thought those puns could get her to throw a heavy sack of screws so accurately? She walked over to the downed bat pony. Now would be a good time to take advantage of the situation. Maybe she could try to choke her out and get her first win?

Echo pushed the sack away and wobbly stood up, dazed, “Eh, screw you.” She untied the sack's opening and pulled out a screw, “Keekeekeekeekee, get it? I'm full of it today. I'm just bursting at the seams,” she ran a hoof over the sack's stitched sides, “You could say I'm on a roll,” she looked around the tall shelves that lined the aisle for several seconds before her ears flattened in disappointment, “Ah, darn it. We're not in the bakery section.”

One of Midnight's eyes twitched. She was about to tackle the gray pony when her sore wing quite sharply advised her against that idea. She needed at least a few minutes to recover. A flight crash was something that only happened to her maybe once a year—but twice in one day? Against such heavy objects? It was just too much.

“Hey! You're not trying to run away again, are you?” Echo kicked the sack of screws over, sending an ocean of the pointed metal fasteners spilling onto the floor, before she jumped from the shelf in pursuit of Midnight, “You really have to knock that off,” she ran up and tackled Midnight to the ground, “Didn't I say turning your back on your opponent is a terrible strategy? Unless, of course, you're backing out of the fight.”

Midnight threw an elbow up at Echo's face before she could hear that laugh. Echo re-positioned herself in an attempt to avoid any future elbows or hooves, but Midnight used Echo's movement to her advantage and rolled, throwing the mare free. Midnight stood up and ran. Her wing still hurt and she had no confidence whatsoever she could win—Echo wasn't even taking this thing seriously. It was all a game of making as stupid of puns as possible. And she was handily winning.

She ran clear of the towering shelves and back into the open area of the warehouse. Her path was still fairly linear, however, due to the crates that lined each side. It would make picking a route easy, but would do nothing for trying to elude the punny bat pony.

“I'm really serious, now. You've got to quit with the running.” Midnight's ears twitched at the oncoming voice and she abruptly ducked to the ground, just as Echo passed inches overhead and skidded to a stop in front of her.

Echo clasp her wings back to her side, “See? I didn't even make a pun. That's when you know it's serious. This is a fight, not a derby,” she bent down and flared her leathery wings aggressively, “So let's fight.”

Midnight jumped onto one of the crates, using her forelegs to boost herself onto it's top, before she hopped off. Okay, panic was starting to set in a little, she'd admit. Once you start that fight or flight it's hard to switch. She looked forward in confusion. There were rows upon rows of clean and crisp clothes. All neatly hung on wheeled coat hanger racks. It looked like a second hand store. She could see a pyramid of wooden barrels poking up on the far end of the racks of clothing.

She started walking toward the barrels. Why not? As she walked, she looked at the hung clothing more closely. Judging from the pins and buttons on them they appeared to be Night Guard dress uniforms. Her eyes scanned down the rows. There had to be hundreds—maybe even thousands—all of different shapes and sizes. She even spotted a few of those tight fitting black spandex suits some wore to PR events to show off the “special forces” look.

Echo huffed as she landed, “This is really starting to get old,” she picked up one of the coat hangers from off the rack, “You really need to just hang up this habit,” she didn't laugh and put the hanger back on the rack, “Okay, that one wasn't that great. See? All this running is even wearing me ou—oh. Clothes. Wear. Keekeekeekee. Never mind. Still got it.”

She looked around the rows for any gray or purple fur, “Now, where oh where could you be?”

Midnight rolled her eyes before she crept under another line of clothes. She'd have to face Echo sooner or later—or she could always forfeit. She paused halfway under the uniforms. That really did sound like a great idea. So what if it was actually legit and she could make some more bits? After Bill's lies, there was no way she was going to bother with this fighting league, so what was the point of winning a fight?

“You're really wearing my patience thin, you know that? I wanna tie this loose thread up already.”

Her eyes narrowed. No. She was not going to lose to that. If Echo won, it would have to be through actually beating her. She was not going to give that mare any unearned satisfaction. Not after all those puns.

“Ah, there you are.”

Midnight's eyes widened. Uh oh. Echo rammed into her, causing her to lunge forward and knock over the row of uniforms in front of her. She threw the one that had landed on her and rolled out of the way, just in time to avoid Echo pinning her to the ground. She looked up. The rows of clothes had given way to some open space and the stack of barrels she had seen was on the other side of the opening. She snapped her gaze back to Echo and stumbled to her hooves.

“Don't forget to always use your environment to your advantage,” Echo flapped her wings, rose into the air, and kicked Midnight back. She winced and stumbled until she hit something hard and metallic. What in the world? Behind her was a large steam press used for ironing laundry. Must be how they got the uniforms so crisp.

The press suddenly hissed out some steam, causing Midnight to jump forward and right into the waiting hooves of Echo. Echo smiled, “Like this,” she pushed Midnight

Midnight felt her back hit the press's inner surface. The polished metal surface was freezing and sent a shiver up Midnight's spine as she contacted it. What? She looked down at the bat pony in panic, “What are you doing?!”

“Well, to answer your pressing question—keekeekee—I'm demonstrating a great way to knock your opponent out. One I'm sure you'll find quite flattering,” Echo nearly doubled over in laughter. She wiped a few tears from her eye, “That's the third time I've used that one and it still gets me.”

“What?” The meaning of the puns suddenly struck her, “N-No, you can't!” She started to hoist herself up, “What about 'don't kill or seriously injure,' huh?”

Echo punched Midnight in her soft underbelly several times to keep her down. Midnight grunted and squirmed on the press, “It's not going to seriously hurt you. Trust me, I've done this to at least a half dozen would-be fighters. And they all ended up fine. Ponies are very resilient and as a result are also very squishable. It's a great way to knockout your opponent and clinch the win. Like so.”

Midnight gasped as Echo grabbed onto the press's lid. With the mare's hooves distracted, Midnight rolled off of the press just as the lid was slammed shut and grunted upon hitting the hard concrete. She looked up. Steam slowly hissed out of the paper thin crack between the lid and bottom. She gulped. She'd nearly been flattened in that narrow gap.

Her gaze shifted over to Echo, who looked down at the pony who had escaped a flat fate, “You're insane.”

Echo's face lit up in glee, “Don't you mean I'm...” she leaned toward Midnight, “Batty. Eh? Eh?” she elbowed Midnight in the ribs, “Batty, and we're both bat po—ouch!”

Echo stumbled back from the punch. Midnight shook her now sore hoof. It was totally worth it. Especially as retaliation for that pun. She knew the mare would make a bat pony pun eventually, and was glad she could respond to it so effectively. She shakily stood up, “No, I mean you're crazy. Cuckoo. One apple short of a bushel. This is a fight, not some cartoon.”

“You're right, it is. And you're supposed to win. That's all the fighting league cares about. Bill doesn't care if that's because you choked your opponent out, or you turned her into a neatly pressed throw rug. All that matters is you win,” Echo charged forward, “Don't be scared to do what's necessary to win. If you hesitate, you won't make it very far.”

A bell suddenly buzzed and the press unlatched and popped open. Steam billowed out and covered Midnight in a thick mist. Echo growled and slowed to a stop. She scanned the haze for gray and purple fur. Next time, she needed to set the thing to stay shut longer. It might be a little more uncomfortable for anypony caught in it, but it would stop something like this from happening again.

A gray form burst through the thinning steam and crashed right into her. The two rolled over top of each other several times, each trying to wrestle the other down and pin her to the ground. Echo finally came out on top and tightly pinned Midnight' against the floor, face down. She smiled, “I guess since I choked on trying to squash you flat, I'll have to opt for the more traditional method of winning.”

She wrapped a hoof around Midnight's neck and started to apply pressure. This wasn't good. Midnight jerked herself up in an attempt to wiggle away from the chokehold, but Echo was firm and only increased her grip, “You were a fun opponent, Midnight. Definitely a barrel full of laughs,” The stack of barrels kitty-corner to the press caused Echo to squeal with laughter and loosen her grip.

Midnight used the desperate gasp of oxygen to elbow Echo in her stomach, causing that annoying snickering to turn into a much more satisfying groan of pain. Echo's chokehold fully loosened and Midnight pushed the mare off. Echo stumbled back and fell face down onto the open press.

The press's surface was now warm and wet thanks to its previous activation. Echo lifted her head from off the surface and shook it to clear it of the dizziness. That mare was proving to be much harder than she originally thought.

Midnight walked up, smirking. Echo had told her to take advantage of the circumstances and she did say ponies were resilient, “Sorry, Echo, but this fight's gone on for so long, I'm a little pressed for time now,” she reached up and grabbed the lid.

Echo looked over her shoulder, her amber eyes widening in fear at Midnight's word choice, “No, wai—uergh!” Midnight slammed the lid down and let the press's weight do the rest. The press slowly flattened down until there was only a thin crack between the lid and bottom. Echo's muffled moans were quickly overwhelmed by the hiss of the steam that escaped from the thin crack.

Midnight looked at the press in worry. That looked like it would really hurt. Were some bits really worth doing that to somepony? There were always other ways to make money. Like... well, maybe... okay so she couldn't actually think of any off the top of her head, but there were definitely some.

“My, my. That was quite impressive.”

She jumped at the sudden voice and turned around. Standing on the wooden loading dock was Bill, a wide smile on his face. Him! Midnight snarled and flew up to the stallion, “What was that?! That's some orientation you have there.”

Bill's joy was dampened by the angry mare who was now a few feet away, “Oh, you're angry about that?”

“Damn right I am. You just burned away what little benefit I was going to give this fighting league. I'm outta here.”

His smile fell. It seems he had underestimated her displeasure. He raised a hoof diplomatically, “Now, now, Miss Dream. Don't be hasty. I apologize for being less that truthful, but I needed to test your resolve and skills in an unbiased, spontaneous manner.”

She smacked the hoof away, “But nothing. First impressions are everything and you lied for yours. What's that supposed to say about this? I'm gonna pass,” she looked around, “Now where's the exit?”

He pointed to an inconspicuous door past the press and barrels, “It's over there.” she turned around and started walking toward it, “But before you leave. Don't you want your winnings?” She stopped mid-step, causing him to smirk. He picked the small pouch he had dropped from off the ground and rattled it.

Midnight's tufted eyes perked and shifted at the sound of bits being jostled carelessly. She turned her head around, “Winnings?”

“I may have been a little dishonest, but the part about the bits was very much real,” he opened the pouch and pulled out a hoofful of gold coins, before letting each one slip deliberately back into the pouch. “Five hundred bits. Cash. Just as agreed.”

Midnight fully turned around. She could grab the bits and get out. She had won and there was no shame in taking the snake's money. It was five hundred bits—her bits. There was no sense in just throwing hard earned money aw—the timer on the press buzzed and the lid opened, once again releasing a small plume of steam.

Bill carefully placed the pouch onto his withers, “Ah, Echo's ready. Why don't we look at your handiwork before I give you your money?”

Midnight stared for a moment, “Fine.” She was only doing it to make sure the bat pony was okay. Echo may have been annoying, and had tried to squash her flat, but that didn't mean she had to give up all her empathy.

The two walked over to the press. By the time they arrived, the steam had fully disappeared. Midnight looked down and her eyes widened. Echo's athletic gray body was pressed flat against the metal surface of the press. Her wafer thin forelegs were sprawled up over her head while her hind legs had been tightly flattened out right next to each other while her tail was flattened out on top of the legs. The very tip of the blue tail extended just beyond her flat rear hooves.

One of Echo's leathery wings was spread out while the other had been flattened out against her back like a tattoo. Midnight inadvertently shuffled her wings. They could be pretty sensitive at times and that did not look comfortable. She couldn't see Echo's face as her head had been flattened face down against the press. All she could see was the mare's flat blue mane that ran down just to the nape of her thin neck.

“Like I was saying: impressive,” Bill reached a hoof down and grabbed onto Echo's head. He pulled but the squashed bat pony wouldn't budge an inch. She was firmly flattened to the press, “Now I remember why I don't do clean up,” he muttered to himself. He looked over at Midnight, “Would you mind lending me a hoof? I'd rather not have to find something to scrape her off with.”

Midnight nodded dumbly. What else was she supposed to do? She grabbed onto one of Echo's hind legs, just below the thin form of a bee. Why did she have a bee for a cutie mark, anyway? Or was that supposed to be a moon and clouds? Why did it look like a bee? The moon's not supposed to have stripes on it.

Echo's gray fur was damp. Midnight withdrew her hooves in surprise at the sudden wetness before placing them back in position. The mare had just been doused in steam—not to mention intense pressure—for a couple minutes. It made sense she'd be wet. She and Bill yanked several times before Echo popped off the press, causing her to clatter stiffly against the floor.

“There we go. Thanks for the help, Miss Dream,” Bill picked up Echo's rigid, flat body from off the ground and leaned her against the press.

Midnight looked over the front side of Echo's body. Several of the mare's bangs had been flattened down over her face and nearly obscured her eyes. Speaking of her eyes, they were wide open but glazed over. Not surprising. If a well-placed punch or chokehold could knock somepony out, than a heavy steam press surely could as well. Her tongue had been flattened out of her mouth, while her fangs poked out. All in all, she looked pretty silly.

“Here you are,” Bill threw the pouch at her. “Don't ever say I'm not a stallion of my word,” she caught it with a wing before grabbing it with a hoof. When was the last time she had that many bits? She opened it and gazed down at the shiny, golden disks within. It had been so long, she'd almost forgotten what a pile of bits looked like. They looked beautiful, but would look even more beautiful at the bank where they could then be transferred to her creditors.

She sighed contently. So this is what having money felt like. It was a grand feeling. She wished she could feel like it more often. Of course, if she kept on fighting... No! She shook her head to clear the greedy thought. Not after what Bill had done. And certainly not after that fight. It wouldn't be worth it. She could find another way to get bits. She just needed more time to think of one.

“You have the Benefactors to thank for that.”

Midnight snapped her gaze from the small sack of bits, “The... Benefactors?”

Bill grabbed Echo's rigid, flat body and carefully balanced it onto his back. He spread out his brown wings to provide added stability, “Oh, yes. Think of them as the fighting league's owners. They're the ones who came up with this whole idea. They're also fairly well connected,” he gestured at the boxes and crates, most marked with a big red “Property of the Lunar Night Guard of Equestria” stamp, “But the less you know about that, the better.”

Of course. Nothing like some cloak and dagger stuff to go along with the lies. She noticed the thin gray and blue line that was Echo resting delicately on his back, “Wait, where are you taking her?”

“Oh. She'll get some medical attention and plenty of rest. Maybe spend a day or two as a cutout.” he slowly walked back toward the wooden loading dock before abruptly stopping, “That reminds me. If you do decide to continue and you win, please bring your opponent to the nearest league office so we can certify your victory. We would use the crystal recordings, but they just take so long to process, it'd be much faster to do it manually.”

Midnight snorted, “I told you. I'm done.”

He shrugged, nearly knocking Echo's flat body from off his back, “Suit yourself. You'd make a fantastic addition to the Underground Fighting League's roster. It's not my money you're throwing away,” he continued walking, “Good evening, Miss Dream.”

She started walking toward the door near the barrels. She didn't need him or his lies and she certainly didn't need to nearly kill herself fighting. She'd find another way to make some bits—maybe even one that actually used her special talent and not that useless Night Guard training—she was certain.

End of Chapter One

Author's Note

I figured this was most people's first time seeing the flattening fetish, so I decided to use one of the classic flattening methods for the best possible first impression instead of the really bizarre and weird one I was originally intending to use.

I thought Echo would be hard to write, but I think it went really well. The horrible puns certainly helped. Why, you could even say they were... awful. I'm also totally not stealing the chapter title format from Progress. Honest.

Midnight vs. Sky

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter Two: Midnight vs Sky

Midnight stared greedily at the four small pouches that sat on her kitchen table. Who would have thought she had it in her? She was never more thankful of her parents desire that she stay in shape for “guard training” than she was right now. Four fights. Four wins. Four pouches full of bits. It was finally happening. Her money problems were over. A couple more fights and she'd never have to worry about a pile of bills again.

She opened one of the pouches and gazed at its golden contents. These fights had certainly been strange. Echo had been squashed flat by the steam press. Night Watch had nearly gotten her. Good thing the mare hadn't seen the steamroller coming. She never imagined a rubber mallet could be so effective against a pony like Gloom Wing but the disked mare showed her wrong.

She shrugged as she counted the bits from the pouch for the fifth time. So long as they kept paying and she kept winning—Luna only knew she didn't want to end up like Speck and have to get peeled off the side of a building and flutter softly to the ground—she was content. These fights might be weird, but they paid much better than her spotty employment as a gardener did.

Midnight suddenly sat up. Speaking of gardening, she had an apple tree to attend to. It would fetch a pretty bit at the Gardening Garbonza at the end of the month and she had to make sure it was in tip-top condition. Just as she was getting up, she reached back and shoved the pile of bits back into their pouch, before tying its neck tightly with a piece of twine. Didn't want to lose any of her hard earned cash.

Bits now secure, she made her way outside. Her small cottage had an equally small front porch to match. She looked out at the quaint corner lot her cottage sat on. It might be a little small, but hey, that meant the taxes weren't as high. She looked into the dimming sky. The sun was slowly setting. Luna would be raising the moon within the hour. That gave her just enough time to check up on the apple tree.

She walked off her porch and over to the shed that sat next to the side of her house. Can't maintain a three month old apple tree if you don't have the right supplies, now can you? The shed door groaned open. She glanced up at the rusted track the sliding metal door slide on. Shed maintenance wasn't something she wanted to deal with right now—she didn't even want to entertain the thought of buying a new one.

The interior was packed full of stuff. There were rakes and shovels, hoes and hedge trimmers. There was even a heavy lawn roller she'd use to make her small lawn look just like the best hoofball fields in Equestria. Stacked in the back were enough bags of fertilizer to get put on a government watch list—she should know. In a town full of ponies working for Equestria's intelligence community, information tends to leak out like water leaks from a soaker hose.

Speaking of hoses, there was a whole rain barrel full of them tucked away in the corner. She should really get that rain barrel hooked up and collecting rain. It would save her a fortune on her water bill. It was the whole reason she bought the thing in the first place. She'd add it to the list of things to do. For now, she had a tree to attend to.

She picked up a spade and some shears from off the shed's wall and walked out. Her back yard was as small as the rest of her plot of land. For a cottage of that size, it fit fairly well. For a pony who's talent was gardening, however, it was rather lacking. The arborvitae took up most of the fence space, the peonies took up most of the space in front of them, and the large oak tree took up most of the interior space of the yard.

What little room she had left was devoted to her garden. There were several rows of tomatoes—both cherry and heirloom, a small patch of zucchini, peppers—both Minotaurian wax and bell—lined the edge around the tomatoes, and a few watermelon. She frowned when she looked at the lackluster watermelon vines. They tried their hardest, but Hollow Shades was a very poor watermelon growing location. Not even a gardening special talent could make large, juicy melons grow in such a temperate climate. She should really switch to pumpkins next season.

Sitting at the end of the garden was her target. The small apple seedling didn't seem like much. Just an inch thick stick with a few branches and some leaves, but it would fetch a beautiful bit. She bent down and dug into the soil just next to the tree's thin trunk. Over watering could be a serious issue. A few shovel fulls later and she could spy a few of the trees tiny roots. She felt around the hole for moisture. The dirt was damp, but not waterlogged. Considering she had watered the garden only a few hours earlier, that was good.

After packing the dirt back into the hole, she walked around the tree, examining the branches. It was a small thing, so it was unlikely to need any pruning, but one can never be too careful. A few dead leaves were carefully snipped off, but otherwise things looked good. Next, she needed to check and make sure the tree was healthy.

“Hello, Mr. Tree—” It was best to not grow too attached. She'd have to part ways with him soon, “How are you doing today?” she started checking the branches and leaves for signs of mildew or blight. This year's apple blight had been more vicious than usual so far, “I hope you've been treating the watermelons well. You know how they feel about their 'performance' so far,” she glanced over at the small vines, “It's not their fault.”

Passersby would shrug at the bat pony's antics. Some said she had been driven insane by the debt she had racked up by not living with her parents longer, but her neighbors knew it was caused by the runoff from the military base. There was probably a huge leak in the basement. How else could a twenty year old buy a house in Hollow Shades? They had to be practically giving the thing away.

Midnight snorted. They were just jealous. She was, after all, the only pony in the whole town that grew apple trees. She had a monopoly on the source of the plump red orbs that bat ponies loved and they couldn't stand it. Besides, that leaky basement allowed her to get the house dirt cheap. Sure, she might eventually grow a horn because of it—if those letters from the city council were anything to go by—but that just meant she'd become a baticorn. Maybe they'd grow her a tree castle to live in and she'd become the princess of plants.

“Don't you worry about nosy ponies, Mr. Tree. You just worry about growing big and strong.” There didn't appear to be any diseased leaves. That was good, “One day, you'll tower over your competition and be the best there could be!”

“I like that confidence, Miss Dream.”

Oh, Luna. The Health Institute of Equestria was right. That runoff did cause mental health issues. Now, her beloved Mr. Tree was talking to her. She figured it would have had a much sweeter voice, to mimic the sweet fruits it would one day grow. Not the gruff voice of—wait a minute. She knew that voice. She turned around and let out an exasperated sigh. She really needed to stop taking after mom and letting her mind wander wildly.

“Don't do that, Bill,” Standing at the gate to her yard was the brown stallion, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Bill smiled as he stepped into her yard, “I must say, you have a very nice looking house. That special talent of yours must do wonders.”

“It does wonders for my creditors. Now, you didn't walk all the over from Luna only knows where the fighting league's headquartered just to creepily stare at my house.” Midnight stuck the shears into the dirt next to Mr. Tree and walked over to him.

“You can do small talk with a tree, but not with your employer?” he shook his head, “I'd expect someone self employed such as yourself would be more pony friendly.”

Midnight sighed to herself. It was too late for this, “Is there another fight or something?”

“For the league's number one fighter? Of course,” he somehow produced a manila folder and handed it to her, “You've become quite the asset, Miss Dream. Very few of the other fighters are still undefeated four matches in. Your fights always seem to have that special something to them that keeps ponies interested. They are some of the best selling. We can hardly keep up with the demand.”

“How are you guys recording them, again?” There were never any cameras or microphones—at least that she could see. So how in the world could the fighting league record, let alone sell, them? It had gnawed away at her since she first saw that blue crystal.

“Unicorn magic is a truly wonderful thing, Miss Dream.” Midnight snorted. Why did she feel as though that didn't actually answer her question? If Bill didn't want to tell her he could have just said so. No reason to dump the “it's magic” excuse on her. Everypony had some kind of magic and the pegasi never used “weather magic” as a blanket excuse. Why were unicorns the only ones that did it?

“Care to be more specific?” It never hurt to ask.

Bill shrugged, “I'd love to give you the breakdown of the runetic matrices or whatever those chalk things are they use, but I'm a pegasus sports manager—not a Professor of Thaumology. I know just as much about the beams they shoot from their foreheads as you do.”

That would be a “no.” It seemed she wasn't going to be getting a straight answer, “Alright, then. What's this next fight about?” she opened the folder and looked at the papers inside. Neatly paper clipped to the instructions was a picture of a white pegasus mare.

Bill looked over at the open folder, “That would be your next opponent, Sky Fighter. We've decided to mix things up and try to play up that species rivalry. Nothing like a little Royal Guard vs Night Guard action to sell some extra crystal recordings.”

There was one flaw in Bill's marketing strategy, “But I'm not in the Night Guard, Bill.”

“And? You're a bat pony. Sorry for the typecasting, but if you have fangs and leathery wings, everyone will make the Night Guard connection. Might as well take advantage of it.” Midnight huffed in response. Of course they would. Nothing like some species stereotyping. Did everyone think unicorns were archmages? No. If unicorns could have regular jobs, why couldn't bat ponies? “Besides, Sky Fighter is in the Royal Guard, so you can soothe your bit obsessed conscience with the knowledge that we're fifty percent right.”

“What?!” Not another highly trained opponent, “No way. You promised after the Gloom Wing fight that there wouldn't be any more members of the military.” She could already feel her muscles starting to hurt, “You keep this up and you're going to have to scrape me off the asphalt. I'm not doing it. You can find another fight to organize.”

Bill raised a hoof defensively, “I get it. I really do, but I didn't think things would line up this perfectly. It's just too good of a fight to pass up, Miss Dream.” he smirked. There was always one way to get Midnight Dream on board with something, “And, if you win, the Benefactors have assured me there will be a bonus in it for you. You've made them so much money, they feel that such a profitable employee should be rewarded in kind. Provided you win, of course.”

Midnight growled. Bill knew right where to hit her, “Fine. I'll do it.” she said through gritted teeth. That damned stallion knew her weak spot and he knew it well. She was just glad that once she had her cottage paid off she'd never be lured in by money again. Probably. Unless it was a lot of money. Okay, unless it was a good amount of money. Alright, alright, she'd probably do it for a little money. It was never too early to think about retirement, after all. You had to plan those kind of things ahead of time.

Bill chuckled, “I figured you'd see it our way. The fight's tonight at the regularly scheduled time. Instructions and directions are enclosed. Remember to stay safe and do try to win,” he turned and walked back to her backyard gate, “You've practically become our mascot at this point. It would be a shame if we had to start relying on the ponies with star power to sell the recordings.”

Midnight furrowed her brow. Star power? What in Equestria does that mean? Before she could inquire, the stallion was gone. She could swear that pegasus was secretly a unicorn. It made sense. Being able to suddenly disappear. Having all those manila folders hidden away in a pocket dimension. Showing no consideration for others.

She looked back down at the folder, “Sky Fighter, huh? You seem like a pretty normal pony,” Judging from the picture, she had all the standard features that a Royal Guard would. A sleek body, good muscle tone, a white fur coat—why were all Royal Guard white, anyway? Her trimmed golden mane and tail were a little unusual, as were her blue eyes, but everything else fit pretty well.

She flipped through some of the notes, “Let's see. 23 years old, low ranking officer,” she squinted her eyes, “Tactical weapons specialist. I wonder what that means?”

“Come here!” Midnight desperately dove underneath a crate. She heard the sound of sharpened metal slicing the air behind her. This was nuts. She didn't know who was more insane—Bill, for thinking this was in any way a good idea, or her, for being lured in with the promise of bits.

“One of these days, money's going to be your undoing, Midnight.” she mumbled to herself.

What happened to that “no deadly violence” rule, huh? This was supposed to be a hoof-to-hoof fight. No one told her you could use weapons. You weren't supposed to use weapons. If she knew you could, she'd have brought her hedge clippers. She peeked out from under the crate and up at the pegasus who was zipping around. Her eyes narrowed in on the razor sharp metal claws affixed to the mare's forehooves.

Wingblades were so last year. Now, everyone had to be using those freakish hoof claws. She had to admit they did look pretty cool. Not to mention menacing, with their slick, sharpened points. The Royal Guard didn't exactly have the best morale these days—it wasn't so bad when they lost against ancient alicorns or eldrich creatures from Tartarus, but letting vines kidnap the princesses was probably their lowest point—so every little bit to boost the guardsponies morale helped.

Sky Fighter hovered near the warehouse's rafters, scanning for signs of the frightened bat pony. She had to tread carefully. Midnight was her toughest challenger yet. That pony defeated her opponents in the weirdest ways possible and she was determined not to get a first hoof taste of it. Hence the claws. Aerial strafing was a tried and true tactic. She looked around at the many shelves and crates to try and spot the gray mare. It was a little risky in such a confined space, but the greater the risk, the greater the reward.

Sky smirked when she spotted the faint glow of the bat pony's eyes in a dark spot underneath a crate. Bat ponies and their supposedly superior night vision. Wasn't doing her much good now, was it? The white mare dove down and aimed for the crate. She had to be careful. No point in crashing into the thing only to find out it was a solid lead brick or something. Who knew what kind of things the Night Guard stored in these warehouses. She wasn't about to find out.

“Aw, horseapples,” Sky had aimed right for her. She decided to remain underneath the crate for as long as possible. Better to wait for the pegasus to slow down before making her escape than do it while she was still barreling down at full speed. She couldn't keep doing this. Sky would eventually corner her or catch her and she'd either have to yield or face getting sliced up.

Just as she had hoped, Sky slowed to a stop before diving underneath the crate. Just as she did, Midnight leapt out from under it and made a break for it, being sure to weave between as many of the warehouse's shelves and crates as possible. The more time she could buy, the better. She still lacked an adequate plan for dealing with the Royal Guardspony, but one thing was certain—she had to stop Sky from strafing. Taking this fight to the ground was her only chance of winning.

Her tufted eyes perked at a noise. She jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the claws of the white pegasus as she swooped by. She did an entirely unnecessary roll upon landing before righting herself. If she actually had time to think, she could think up a way to stop Sky Fighter, but the pegasus was ensuring that any thoughts were centered on avoiding those claws than on tactics.

It took a moment for Midnight to realize she was in a very bad position. Crates lined each side of the makeshift aisle she was standing in. There was no cover and the crates ensured that any pony in the air had a very clear opening to attack. She and Sky exchanged stares. It appeared there was a little bit of a standoff.

After a few moments, Sky moved first and lunged, straining her feathery wings to fly at Midnight as fast as she could. The mare would be on her in seconds. What was she going to do? Midnight looked around for something she could use to defend herself with. She was in a warehouse for Luna's sake. There had to be something in all these damn crates.

She dove to one side, narrowly missing the claws attached to the white mare's hooves. Sky swooped back up into the metal rafters, ready to make another strafe on the hapless gardener. Midnight's dive caused her to collide with one of the crates. She dizzily looked up and read the shipping manifest that was taped to the side of the wooden container. She shook her head to clear it of the oncoming headache and smiled. Just what the doctor ordered. She reached into the crate and grabbed one of its contents.

Sky smirked. For whatever reason, that mare still hadn't used her leathery wings. She figured after the first ten strafes, the bat pony would try to even the odds a little by joining her in the air. Whatever, it made her job a heck of alot easier. She certainly wasn't going to tell her opponent. Flapping her wings to build up a little momentum, she had to abruptly check her height. Damn rafters nearly clipped her. That would have sucked. Nothing like gifting your opponent a win. She dove down at top speed for another pass.

Midnight glanced over from the crate to see Sky barreling down at her. She pulled again. The thing was stuck. Panic slowly started to swell up inside her, like seeing a swarm of aphids near a tomato patch. Whoever was packaging these had done a very poor job. Did nopony care for quality these days? They just chuck them into a box and send it off to the Guard? Was that how all government contractors worked?

Finally, with one more desperate yank, Midnight was dislodged from the crate and fell back onto the cold concrete floor. With no time to lose, she quickly held the shield up and braced it against her shoulder. Sky had enough time to widen her eyes. She couldn't dodge out of the way or would slam into the sharp metal frames of the shelves and the crates, so she instead tried desperately to slam on the brakes by hastily flapping her wings in reverse and shifting her weight to slow her momentum. Maybe she'd be able to slow down enough. Unfortunately for her, inertia was a very cruel mistress.

“Eeeerckkk!” Midnight skidded back several yards from the impact. She hadn't thought Sky would actually hit the shield. It was a bluff—well, deterrent—to get Sky to stop with the silly strafe tactics. One her shoulder was now paying the price for. She really hoped that pain was just some basic muscle soreness and not a dislocated joint. She couldn't afford a doctor's bill. That can bankrupt even those with a steady job and income.

Midnight adjusted the shield to her other hoof and rotated the sore leg. Her shoulder was killing her, but it didn't seem like it was dislocated. That was good. She peeked over the top of the metal shield and at its front. Plastered flat on its surface was the white pegasus. She had suspected something like that had occurred given the force of impact and the noise Sky had made when she struck. Midnight sighed in relief. Another victory and another pouch of bits. All she had to do was get Sky off the shield and turn her in.

She spun the shield around and leaned it against a nearby crate to get a good look at it and better leverage. Sky had really been hammered. Her whole body had been compressed down into a disk that was now firmly pressed to the shield's surface. Her flattened wings were sprawled out on either side of her disk shaped body. Occasionally one would twitch. Midnight winced. Wings could be pretty sensitive. That probably hurt.

Sky's hind legs and small sections of her sword cutie mark and flank were the only visible parts of her body. Her hind legs and hooves had been compacted flat against the rest of her body. It seemed the athletic mare had been thoroughly squashed down. The base of her golden tail had been flattened down against her body, while the rest of it was pressed tightly against the shield below her squashed body.

Midnight looked at the flattened pegasus. As much as she'd like to just carry Sky Fighter to the league office, shield and all, she was worried. What if somepony arrested her for stealing a shield? What if it was some kind of new top secret shield and she was charged with espionage? What if the fighting league docked her pay because she took the shield? No, it would be much easier and hassle free to just peel Sky off of the shield.

Sky was very nicely pancaked to its front, though. It would take more than hooves to dislodge her. Midnight looked around the warehouse for something she could use to scrape the flattened mare off. Maybe there was a putty knife or something lying around she could use? After a few seconds of searching, Midnight's eyes finally settled on a small strip of scrap metal sitting underneath a nearby shelf.

“There we go,” she walked over and picked it up before returning to the shield and the crushed mare stuck to it. “Don't worry, Sky. I'll have you off that and ready to get out of here in no time,” Midnight gently wiggled the metal strip in between the disked mare and the shield. Once it was in place, she pushed and prodded the metal, working to free Sky from off the shield. She grit her teeth, “Criminy, what did you do? Soak yourself in superglue when you woke up this morning?” It sure seemed that way with how little progress she was making.

Finally, after a couple of minutes of frustrating work and the occasional cursing out of an alicorn princess, Midnight felt Sky slowly peel away from the shield before she suddenly popped off. The flattened mare fell a foot or two away and clattered onto the ground like a piece of piping, landing face up. Midnight tossed the scrap metal away and looked down at the white mare.

Sky's blue eyes were squeezed shut. The mare's mouth was wide open, and her pearly white teeth were tightly gritted. Her golden mane was pressed flat at the top of her disked body, while several of her bangs hung down over her face. Her wings and tail were still in the same position and still just as flat. Her forehooves were flattened out at the bottom, splayed outward in a desperate bid to absorb some of the impact, and still attached to the claws that were now equally as compressed as the rest of her body.

Midnight picked the flattened out mare up and smiled, “Whelp, Sky, I do believe this fight's over,” she flopped the mare onto her back and started walking over to her duffle bag, “How bout we get out of her so I can get paid?”

“Uurk.”

Midnight stopped briefly and shifted her weight from off her aching front legs. She'd have to get an ice bag when she got home. Maybe a hot bath, too. She rubbed her sore shoulder before continuing toward her bag, “You know, I was just thinking the same thing.”

End of Chapter Two

Author's Notes: I wanted to do an “accordioning” with Sky, but felt it would just be too awkward to convey in written form (how on Earth would you write out the sound effects without it sounding really bad?) so I just went with a straight forward disking. Not my personal favorite subsection of the flattening fetish, but it's still stimulating enough.

Sky had originally been a bat pony like Midnight but I changed her to a “royal guard” pegasus because the story already has enough bat pony flattenings in it.

Author's Note

I wanted to do an “accordioning” with Sky, but felt it would just be too awkward to convey in written form (how on Earth would you write out the sound effects without it sounding really bad?) so I just went with a straight forward disking. Not my personal favorite subsection of the flattening fetish, but it's still stimulating enough.

Sky had originally been a bat pony like Midnight but I changed her to a “royal guard” pegasus because the story already has enough bat pony flattenings in it.

Midnight vs. Night

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter Three: Midnight vs Night

“Another warehouse. Are you kidding me, Bill?” Perhaps, if she voiced her incredulousness loud enough, he'd be able to hear her from across town. What was it with this fighting league and warehouses? Bill must have an obsession with the things. There was no other reason he'd schedule so many fights in them. For an outsider, it would seem like Hollow Shades was nothing but a series of Night Guard warehouses.

Midnight walked through the shipping entrance and into the cavernous space. Pallets of all sorts, some with ominous “CLASSIFIED” and “EYES ONLY” marked on them, were piled on the many shelves that lined the building. If she didn't know any better, she'd say the Benefactors ran the Night Guard with how often they used their facilities.

She looked down at the instructions Bill had given her, “Figures I walked in the opposite side,” she muttered as she started her trek through the aisles. Hopefully this was one of the smaller warehouses. It would certainly be disastrous for her to get worn out before the fight even began. She only hoped this Night Terror pony wasn't as agile or well trained as Sky Fighter had been.

What kind of a name was Night Terror, anyway? Midnight Dream was pretty standard. A dream occurring in the middle of night. But why name your kid after a horrible experience ponies have? It made Midnight wonder whether names like Double Murder or Malignant Cancer were common. It's like Night Terror's parents wanted a villain or something.

She shouldn't judge. Her parents nearly named her Umbra, after all. It's not as though Night Terror had any choice in the matter. She was probably a good pony. Just had parents who weren't the best with names. Midnight adjusted her duffle bag to the other shoulder to relieve the discomfort that had built up. She checked the instructions once more and looked ahead of her. She smiled. There it was.

Near the warehouse's office was an area that had been cleared of most of the crates, shelves, and pallets. Leaning up against one of the crates still in the area was a dark blue bat pony. Midnight scrunched her muzzle up. She couldn't get a really fat opponent for once? It had to be another physically fit spry pony.

As she approached, she could make out the mare a little better. Her initial impression had been fairly accurate. The mare had a similar muscular build to Midnight's own. Though she appeared to be a little skinnier. That meant she'd likely be fairly agile. Great. It was going to be a fast paced sort of thing full of dodging. Her muscles already hated her for what she had put them through and that hatred would likely only increase.

The mare also sported a blue mane and tail with several white stripes running through them. Midnight would be forever grateful that her mane and tail were a solid light purple. No need to constantly dye the stripes of hair the right colors. The maintenance on those types of manes and tails was probably insane—not to mention the cost. Dyes aren't cheap.

Night Terror turned and stared at Midnight as she approached. No, really. She stared, seemingly eyeing every muscle of Midnight's athletic body as it flexed and moved. This was really uncomfortable. A quick glace or even a stare at her face was fine, but she was half certain Night Terror intended to grope her the second she came within range. Talk about a bad first impression. Maybe some conversation would improve things.

“So, eh, Night Terror is it?” the mare nodded, “That's a strange name, isn't it?” Okay, small talk was never her thing. She had to get cut some slack. She spent most of her days talking to tomato plants and apple trees, after all.

The mare just wouldn't stop staring. She shrugged, “Perhaps, but I love it. It's so intimidating. So powerful. It's perfect.”

“That's good,” Midnight sat her duffle bag down near one of the crates, “So, Bill set up this with you too?” She reached in and pulled out a water bottle.

“Oh, yes. That arrogant stallion just had to set it up in another warehouse.”

Midnight's face brightened as she finished slugging down the last of her water--gotta stay hydrated during these fights. At least they agreed on something, “I know. I was hoping he'd mix things up, but no, just another set of crates and boxes. So much for the fighting league's 'diversity,'” She tossed the bottle back into the bag and turned back to face the dark blue pony.

She was met with Night ogling every inch of her light gray body, scanning each muscle and tuft of fur. Midnight fidgeted under the gaze. There was that discomfort again. Even more so when she saw the blue bat pony's wings twitch excitedly. She shrunk back slightly at Night's gaze, “Uh, I don't mean to be rude, but why are taking such an... interest in my body?”

Night smiled and looked up, “Oh. I was just wondering when those Benefactors would finally send me a nice plump, juicy mare.” She shook her head in satisfaction, “You've surpassed my expectations.”

What. “E-Excuse me?” If this fight were centered on awkwardness, Night would have knocked Midnight out cold.

Night licked her fangs as she once more eyed the muscular mare, “I'm just saying you'll make a very attractive meal.”

Midnight stared, “...Excuse me?” It sounded like she intended to use her fangs for their somewhat obvious purpose. It wasn't really obvious, though. Carefully crafted Night Guard PR and faded memories had made sure that “vamponies” were purely fiction and bat pony fangs were merely useless leftovers from the days of fruit foraging.

They could be used for fruit—as those raisin-like apple husks currently sitting in Midnight's compost pile could attest to—but blood had always been their true purpose. She had never personally engaged in the practice. She'd heard that there was no feeling quite like blood sucking. The more nationalistic—or speciesistic, or whatever you want to call it—within Hollow Shades even proclaimed it a bat pony's only natural and correct means of sustenance.

She just didn't see the appeal. It was very expensive if you didn't have a willing partner—blood banks didn't exactly just give away their supplies—and the idea just didn't sit well with her. Drinking blood. Blood. Not tomato juice, or red punch. Actual thick, sticky, warm blood. She suppressed a shudder. The nationalists could give her as many pamphlets and Nightmare Moon posters as they wanted. She'd stick with tomato juice.

There was also the social impact. The Night Guard heavily frowned on blood sucking. And whatever the Night Guard did, Hollow Shades and its populace would follow. They spent close to a century trying to get everypony to forget about their role in the whole “eternal night” thing. All vampirism would do is cause ponies to dust off their history books and fear just what bat ponies were capable of. Midnight got enough stares when she went to Canterot for jury duty as it was—she didn't need even more.

Midnight was snapped from her mental wanderings by the horrifying sound of Night Terror's spine snapping in two and the mare flopping limply to the ground—or at least, that's the picture she visualized when she heard Night cracking her back and popping her joints. Looking thoroughly relieved, the mare turned her attention to Midnight, “So, how do you want to do this? I can make it quick and easy, or you can struggle and thrash desperately,” she smiled, “Personally, I prefer the desperate thrashing. The sweat, the fear, the panic. The way your delicious muscles will tense up before relaxing in acceptance of their fate. It's just so much more—” she inhaled deeply and shuddered, “—invigorating.”

You know, maybe Night Terror's parents really did know something was up with their daughter when they named her, “Right. How about we get this thing started? Less creepy talking and more hopefully not-as-creepy fighting. I don't know about you, but I want to get out of here before Princess Luna lowers the moon.”

Night chuckled, “Right to the punch, I see. Very well. If you want to lose so quickly, I'm more than happy to oblige.” In an instant, the dark blue mare disappeared in a blur.

Midnight braced herself. At least Night Terror wasn't trying to strafe her. She didn't really know what she expected the bat pony to do but crash headlong into her was definitely not it, “Oof!” The two entangled ponies slide a few feet on the concrete floor before they bumped into a stack of cardboard boxes.

Midnight dizzily looked up to see Night untangling herself and standing up triumphantly, “You see? Over as quick as that. Now why don't you let me see that pretty gray neck of yours so I ca—” The base of the tower of cardboard boxes, having been severely compromised, buckled and the whole thing collapsed down like a tomato plant laden with tomatoes without its stake.

The boxes weren't empty, but were filled with all sorts of things. Some heavier than others. Midnight was just able to roll out of the way of a large box filled with metal bricks before it could squash her into a floor mat. Why on Luna's green earth the Night Guard would have a box filled with metal ingots stacked precariously like that was beyond her.

As the stack of boxes collapsed into a pile, the two ponies regrouped on opposite sides of the pile. Midnight breathed a sigh of relief and dusted herself off. That was close. Not only had Night nearly gotten her, but the Night Guard's slack safety standards had nearly given Night the win anyway. She needed to be more careful and watch what her opponent was—“Ack!” Night swooped over the pile of boxes and tackled Midnight.

The two rolled around. Midnight punched Night in the ribs, she retaliated with a punch to the face. Several exchanges later and Night looked down at her pinned opponent with a grin, “You're certainly a feisty one. I'll give you that.”

While Night had successfully pinned down Midnight's forelegs, her hindlegs were left unguarded. For somepony with such confidence, she sure did lack skill, “And you're really bad at pinning,” Midnight kicked Night's soft, tender underbelly several times with one of her hindlegs, “I'll give you that.”

Night groaned and stumbled off Midnight. She coughed several times, “T-That was rough. I like a little bit of fight, but this is growing tiresome.”

Midnight stood up and faced the dark blue mare. She could feel the bruises on her cheek and chest starting to form from the punches. Nothing a little ice wouldn't fix when this was over, “I agree. You could always yield?” She'd been practicing that particular grin for quite sometime. All the way back to when she was a foal, just waiting for the little brother she could use it on. She'd have to settle for a frustrated Night Terror.

The bat pony growled, “Enough of this.” With one hard flap of her leathery wings, she soared up into the rafters.

“Not more strafing,” Midnight moaned. She looked around at the boxes and crates. Where was a shield when you needed one? Nothing stood out and she had to focus on the hovering gray pony so she couldn't investigate the crates in more detail to determine their contents. She made a mental note to memorize the contents of the next warehouse just to prevent this sort of thing from happening again. And given Bill's obsession, she was almost certain there'd be another warehouse.

“Oh no. You don't have to worry about any strafing,” Midnight squinted as she looked up. What was Night doing, and why was she so close to the large light that hung from the ra—with one swift buck, Night shattered the light fixture, sending a shower of sparks and broken glass to the floor below. That area of the warehouse dimmed from the lack of light, “You have to worry about a much more primal fear,” Night flew over to another light and kicked it out too, “The fear of the dark.”

Sh-She did know that they were both bat ponies, right? As in, nocturnally inclined? As in, having the best night vision of any sapient species? If she didn't know any better, she'd think this was something Night Terror had been practicing for when she fought a pegasus or unicorn or something—right down to the “fear of the dark” line. It reeked like it was scripted.

A minute later, and nearly half the warehouse was shrouded in darkness. Only the bright red exit signs cast faint red glows that lit up small areas, “I know what you're thinking,” Night's voice echoed from the darkness above, “We're both bat ponies. What advantage does darkness give you?” Midnight's night vision had finally warmed up and she could clearly see Night hovering near one of the broken lights, “The truth is—” she suddenly disappeared from next to the light, “—quite a lot.”

Midnight inadvertently shot a few yards into the air. Night was standing right next to her. She composed herself for a second before gasping, “Oh no. Don't tell me—”

Night Terror beamed at her, “What? You mean you don't know umbric teleportation? That's a shame.” That damn shadow teleportation thing. One of the really cool Night Guard techniques, it allowed its user to use shadows of a certain darkness as ad hoc portals. Walk into one shadow and out another. Really cool as both a recruitment tool and an intelligence one. No need for listening devices or wiretaps. Any shadow of sufficient size and darkness could be used to spy.

Any shadow. Midnight looked around. Half the warehouse was shrouded in darkness. Darkness. The absence of light. Which is what a shadow was, “Oh,” Night stared at her smugly as she realized just what that meant. This fight just got much more complicated.

“Let's try this again,” Night ran at her full speed. She braced herself and readied to jump out of the way of the speeding mare only for Night to suddenly disappear in front of her.

“What the—erk!” Night slammed into her flank and the two tumbled to the ground, once again skidding several yards across the pavement and into a few boxes. This was starting to get repetitive. At least these boxes were empty. The last thing she needed was another ton of metal bars trying to flatten her out.

“Oh, and did I mention that inertia isn't affected by umbric teleportation?” Night chuckled as she kicked off a few of the boxes and stood up, “You really should just give up now. All you're doing is using up all that wonderful energy you could be giving me. What do you say?”

“Bite me.”

“If you insist. I'm never one to pass up an open invitation,” Midnight stumbled back several feet over a few of the boxes as the dark blue mare lunged at her, mouth open and fangs bared. Okay, so she hadn't really thought about that retort. Probably wasn't the best thing to say to a vampiristic bat pony. She kicked a large box at the pony and steadied herself before she ran toward one of the nearby aisles. Best to regroup and—

Night's blurry form appeared in front of her with a hiss, causing her to skid to a halt, “How bout we end this fight now? This is—baugh!” Midnight punched her in the face. She really should have done that the last time the mare started monolouging. Night stumbled back, clenching her stinging muzzle, “You little bi—hurrh!” Midnight kicked her in the stomach while her forelegs were busy protecting her face.

If only she could get a knockout punch, she might be able to have her first normal win. No steamrollers or mallets required. Her next punch was deflected by a foreleg raised in defense. That knockout would be harder to get than she hoped. She tried another punch only for her hoof to be caught by Night, who smirked, “As I was saying. I think it's time to wrap this up.”

In one quick motion, Night yanked Midnight and flipped her end over end over her head. Pavement feels simply fabulous—especially when you land on it back first, “Ow,” Midnight rubbed the back of her head. Head on pavement also feels great, but a concussion feels even better. She really hoped it wasn't a concussion. Have you seen how much unicorn doctors charge for magical resonance imaging?

Midnight wearily rolled off her back and sat up. Her back was tensing up and sore, and a headache was forming. She just couldn't catch a break. Every one for these fights had to be painful and exhausting. Where was the easy KO? Maybe if she stopped running and became more aggressive, she'd have quicker success. Then again, all of her opponents so far had been aggressive and that hadn't ended so well for them. Running and—

“Huack!” Night slammed into her and latched onto her back. Right. Less thinking, more fighting. She stumbled to her hooves, the dark blue mare now firmly attached to her back, “What have you been eating, Night Terror? You weigh a ton.”

“Well, I'm about to partake in a lovely meal. She's feisty, and thanks to all this pointless fighting she's put herself through, has made herself nice and tender,” Night licked her lips as she eyed Midnight's neck for the best possible location to bite down on. The best spot was right on one of the veins or arteries, but this mare just had to make things difficult. She'd have to reach around to get to those juicy blood vessels. It would be well worth the effort.

Midnight bucked in an attempt to dislodge the pony. Night's grip only tightened in response. Panic started to swell up inside Midnight. She'd taken some self defense classes to guard against any crazy nationalists, but she never thought she'd have to use them, “J-Just wait and think about this for a minute, Night.”

Night's low chuckle sent shivers down Midnight's spine, “Ah, there it is. The panic. The fear. That desperate quiver in your voice. That's what I like to hear. It makes these feedings so much more enjoyable. Now, it's time to eat.”

Midnight bucked again desperately, but the evil pony still refused to budge, “Y-You can't, Night. Do you really think the fighting league's going to pay you? You know what the opinion is on vampirism. They won't even sell the recordings to this fight if you do this. The Night Guard will lock it away and throw away the key. You won't see a single bit.”

Night laughed, “You think this is about those petty bits? I'm after what really counts. Power. The more ponies I defeat and drain, the more powerful I become. After a few dozen drainings, I should be able to take on one of the weaker alicorns—maybe the one with the heart butt,” Night smiled sadistically, “Then the real fun will begin.” She looked back down at her meal, “So you see, you're just the first, very small step toward my true goals. Bon apatite.”

Night plunged her fangs down toward Midnight's exposed neck. At the last second, Midnight jerked her head to the side and Night bit into the back of her neck as opposed to her jugular. Night just smiled as a small trickle of blood oozed down Midnight's neck, “You know as well as I do that it doesn't matter where a bat pony bits down. Your essence flows regardless.”

The pain in Midnight's neck was quickly replaced by a calming numbness as Night's enzymes were injected into the wound. She began to suck out Midnight's blood and life essence. Midnight stumbled down onto her knees at the combination of Night's weight and at the sudden loss of energy. She had to think of something quick or she was going to be sucked dry, reduced to nothing more than a paper cutout of a bat pony.

That wasn't so bad, was it? She'd be able to relax and not have to worry about bills or bits or anything. She could just stay warm and cozy and not try to fight back because fighting back would prevent her from enjoying herself and taking some well deserved time off. The calming numbness that was radiating from her neck only encouraged Midnight to lay down and relax.

Midnight crumpled to the ground, her eyes barely staying open. Night chuckled. Bat pony enzymes were tailored to bring down any victim. From manticore to alicorn to another bat pony. Nobody could stop it and nobody could stop her. Once Midnight was a nice flat rug, she'd set her sights on the next fight. And once the fighting league was of no use to her, she'd remove those Benefactors and claim her real prize. It was just so easy. Once she was in charge she might even turn Midnight into a cushion on her throne as thanks for helping her.

Wait! Now wasn't the time to relax. Now was the time to do the exact opposite. Midnight's mind flashed back to the free self defense courses she had taken moons prior and smiled weakly as the lessons came flashing back to her. It was the whole reason she had jerked her neck to the side, after all. She blinked a couple times to try and ward off the sleepiness and bit her lip hard to induce some pain and adrenaline. Too engrossed in her power fantasies and cushion preferences, Night failed to notice the weakened and slowly deflating mare stir from her drowsiness.

Suddenly, Midnight used all of her remaining strength to jerk upward, stunning the evil mare on her back as she was suddenly knocked upward and nearly dislodged from off Midnight. Then, Midnight tightly squeezed her shoulders and neck muscles. Just as she had hoped, she felt her energy and liquids return back into her from the wound on her neck.

Now recovered from the sudden resistance, Night readjusted her position on Midnight's back and felt a sensation that nearly froze her. She felt all the power and blood she had just sucked out of Midnight flow right out of her and back into the rebellious mare. Even worse, she could feel some of her own energy starting to slip out as it was caught up as well. She looked in increasing panic at the mare beneath her, “W-Wait, what are you doing?!”

Midnight glanced back at her and smirked, “It's a little trick I learned from a self defense class I took at the rec center. If you happen to pinch your shoulder and neck muscles just so, you can actually reverse the effect of a blood sucking. It only works if you're bitten in the back of the neck, though.”

Night looked down at Midnight's tensed neck in horror as she felt her essence and blood flowing out of her body through her very own fangs, “No! Y-you can't. Please.” Starting to panic, she tired to pull her fangs out of Midnight's neck but they wouldn't budge. She was trapped.

“Why should I? You were going to drain me dry before trying to take over Equestria. Besides,” Midnight mimicked Night's low chuckle, “I've never had a cape before and I am rather fond of the color blue.”

Night's eyes widened in panic as she realized the gray mare's intentions, “No, no, stop!” She laughed nervously, “I-I was just joking about all that stuff. You—You know? Getting pumped for the fight. That sort of thing. I w-wasn't really serious.”

Midnight winced in pain at Night's efforts to remove her fangs, “I'm sure.” The fangs, however, remained firmly sunk into her neck. She could feel the sheer raw energy that was now flowing into her. She began to involuntarily salivate as her body tried to keep the nonexistent wound open for her to continue feeding. Night's struggles weakened as her energy left her and her body started deflating.

It was a most unusual sensation for Midnight, although certainly not unpleasant. Unconsensual vampirism was obviously illegal and even its consensual counterpart was considered one of the biggest taboos out there. Midnight had never actually used her fangs for anything more than sucking the juice from apples and scaring foals on Nightmare Night.

This was a whole 'nother experience. Her heart was pounding much faster than it had previously—and she had been losing blood previously, “I-I'm s-sorry, okay! I've learned my lesson. Y-You can stop. Please.” Was Night saying something? She couldn't really tell. The warmth that was flowing through her was just too distracting. A warmth she knew had previously belonged to Night.

She shuddered. This. This was something else, “You gotta stop!” Her pupils dilated. Those nationalists were making more and more sense. This really did blow away sucking watermelons dry. She breathed deeply to savor the energy she was getting from the rapidly deflating mare on her back. She better savor it. It's not like she was going to do vampirism again. At least not until she got her finances in order and could afford the blood bags.

All the while, Night's struggles became weaker and weaker and more and more desperate. She had stopped trying to pull her fangs free and now punched Midnight in an effort to force her to free her, “I-I'm gonna get out of this! Y-You'll see,” Night looked at one of her dark blue forelegs in alarm as it, now flat as a piece of cardboard, crumpled against Midnight's purple mane with each punch, “Y-You're going to pay for this.” Seeing her efforts were futile, Night attempted to kick Midnight's rump with her hind legs, only to discover they too were as thin and useless as her forelegs.

Night suddenly felt very weak. Her struggles slowed to a stop as her muscular build gently thinned out. Her shoulders sagged down while her belly and chest flattened down against Midnight's back. She rested her head against the back of Midnight's neck. Maybe she should just throw in the towel and accept defeat?

“No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, nouuuuhhhhhhhhh,” Night's body finally gave in and she relaxed her muscles, resigning herself to her fate, “A-At least y-you're kind of hot,” she mumbled—being stuck on the back of an attractive mare wasn't the worst possible fate out there—before her flat body gently fluttered down and settled onto Midnight's muscular back. Her hind legs rested gently on Midnight's rump while her forelegs flapped like two dark blue ribbons off either side of Midnight's shoulders.

Midnight shuddered in ecstasy as the last of Night's energy and blood entered her. The mare had been fully drained and was now a nice, soft cape. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that last comment Night had made. She'd never paid much attention to what others thought of her body, why should she now? Well, the whole 'mare bent on conquering the country' thing would be a good one. And the fact that that mare now rested on her back and was now closer than almost any pony short of her immediate family had ever been.

She shrugged. It wasn't as though Night would be with her for very long—let alone in any intimate capacity. Unintentionally, the subject of intimacy caused her mind to to flash to images of Night being used as her towel. Her soft, dark blue fur would probably make for a very soothing towel after a hot show—Midnight shook her head to clear the images. Damn intrusive thoughts. They were still considered intrusive even if they weren't necessarily unpleasant, right?

Night blinked her glazed over eyes several times and looked around as she realized the flat fate Midnight had bestowed on her, “Mmmmuuhhhhhh.”

Midnight was snapped from her thoughts by the groan from the pancaked pony. She looked over her shoulder at the mare and smiled. So much for power. Night stared up at her with wide, pleading eyes, as if begging her to release the flat bat pony. Her fangs was still firmly attached to Midnight's neck, despite Midnight having relaxed her neck muscles. Maybe it would be best to remove her.

With the rush of draining Night now past, a dull throb had started emanating from the wound. Plus, it posed a risk. What if Night somehow was able to regain her energy? She could get revenge and suck Midnight dry before she knew what had happened. Who knows what Night would do to her once she was flattened out. She should turn her in right now and get the bits before Night figures out a way to turn the tables on her.

Midnight looked above the warehouse office's door at the clock. One thirty?! There was no way the fighting league was open at this hour. Night would have to spend the night with her. The mare would make for really comfortable bedding. Her warm fur would just be perfect and her muscular body would provide for some really nice padding.

She shook her head. There were those intrusive thoughts again. She walked over one of the crates and grabbed her duffle bag off it. Midnight slung the bag over her back and made her way out of the dimly lit warehouse. Night let out a moan as the heavy duffle bag pressed her firmly against Midnight's back. It was going to be a long walk.

“Where in Tartarus is that Luna forsaken key?!” It was two in the morning, her neck was killing her, there was an ad for finishing basements taped to her front door, and based on the moonlight, it appeared one of her azalea bushes was getting a nasty petal blight. Midnight fumbled with the keyring and tried another key. She sighed in relief as the door unlocked. She tore off the basement ad and walked into her small cottage.

She thanked Luna that she was a bat pony. That night vision was an alicornsend. If only it allowed her to tell the difference between three identical keys. She tossed her keychain onto the small table next to her front door and slide the duffle bag onto the floor. She winced slightly as she moved to set the ad down on the table. Not due to Night's fangs in her neck or her aching ankles from the two mile walk back from the warehouse, but due to the pile of mail that was sitting next to the keychain. What new bills awaited her? Hopefully that topsoil payment hadn't come due yet.

She bit her lip. She could—and really should—wait until tomorrow to look over the stack of mail. It would only cause fretting overnight if she looked at it right then. But what if that topsoil payment was now due? Or the fertilizer? Or—she sighed. Now that she was thinking about it, she was going to fret regardless. She might as well sort through it now. Who knows? Maybe there weren't any bills due and she wouldn't have any fretting to do.

She picked up the stack and walked over to her kitchen table. After setting the mail down, she reached up and lit the lantern that hung from the ceiling. Bat pony night vision may be great, but even it couldn't stand to see small print in the dark. The lantern's flickering light cast a quaint glow on her kitchen. She glanced in worry at the oil chamber underneath the wick. How much more fuel did she have for the thing? That was another bill she could do without paying.

The kitchen chair squeaked as she slide it back. She sat her weary body down and leaned back in the chair. The Night fight hadn't been as bad as Speck, but she was still no professional fighter, “Mmmooohhhhh,” If there was one benefit, it was that Night made for excellent padding for the wooden chair.

Midnight smiled, “I know the feeling, Night.” After a few moments of comfort leaning against her new muscular cushion, Midnight sat forward and started sorting the mail. Junk. Junk. One of those “complimentary” issues of Sports Weekly they send to get you to subscribe. Junk. A letter from the Hollow Shades City Council about the ongoing investigation into the runoff from the military base. An invitation to her neighbor's kid's graduation—such a nice family they were. She was going off to Night Guard training that fall.

All that was left was the basement ad. She really had to wonder how often those fliers worked. How many ponies really took the ad at face value and got their basement finished? You'd think they'd shop around, get some estimates, maybe see if the contractors are reliable. Not go off of a piece of paper taped to their front door. She looked down at it.

Wait a minute. That wasn't an ad. It was a hoof—or it could be wing—written note. As she scanned through the fancy cursive she smiled. Her smile only grew wider and wider with each line. Unable to contain her joy, she leapt from the chair and nearly slammed into the lantern above her, “Oh, Bill! I take back everything I've ever said about you.”

She knew having a manager would pay off. Sure, she didn't really have a say in whether to get one or not, but she still knew it would pay off. He'd done it. He'd finally done something right. She'd be set. No more fights. No more warehouses. No more psychotic mares trying to flatten her. Just her and the bits she was about to rake in.

She sat back into her seat, eliciting another soft groan from her cape. Midnight smirked at the moan, “Oh, don't worry, Night. Everything's going to finally be fine,” She reached over and grabbed that free copy of Sports Weekly. She looked at the cover, which had a headline of Hoofball's New Commissioner. That headline was all wrong. It should read Midnight Dream's New Meal Ticket, “In fact, How's a trip to Manehattan sound?” Turning Night Terror in could wait. She had packing to do.

End of Chapter Three

Author's Note

Not sure how popular a fetish vampirism is, but it's always nice mixing up the flattening methods. Everyone does wringers and steamrollers, but how often do you see someone being Capri Sunned?

Night Terror is probably the closest thing to a real “evil bad guy” the story has—which is why her fate will be more prolonged than everyone else's. I also had a blast writing her.

Midnight vs. Popularity

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter Four: Midnight vs. Popularity

Midnight stared out the train window and into the villages and towns that made up the outskirts of Manehattan. She had a very comfortable seat—and it wasn't just thanks to the dark blue cape she was using as a backrest. She was sitting in first class. Normally, such an idea would disgust her. All those bits she could have spent on bills instead being blown on leg and wing room. But she hadn't paid for the ticket. Equestria's largest sports magazine had.

She sat back in her seat. A small whimper came from behind her. Night might have been a power hungry, evil mare, but she made an excellent cushion. She adjusted her position slightly before continuing to gaze out the window. It was rare for her to leave Hollow Shades and, as foalish as it was, she couldn't help but be a little giddy at the prospect. Hollow Shades was nice—even if it didn't pay particularly well—but it still grew stale and repetitive. Now, she could get some new experiences that didn't involve shade or Night Guard warehouses.

Like getting interviewed. Of all the things she thought she'd get out of the fighting league, becoming famous was not one of them. She was snapped out of her musings by the snack cart that squeaked its way down the middle of the train car. Wing and leg room weren't the only benefits of first-class. The slice of apple pie with a dash of whipped cream and sprinkled cinnamon on top caught her eye, and judging from the growl that emanated from her lean, lithe belly, her stomach as well.

“Thank you,” the stallion nodded as she took the pie and leaned back into her seat. A small smile formed at the muffled moan that resounded, “Now, Night, I'm sure if the positions were reversed and I was the one squashed flat against your back, you wouldn't hesitate to enjoy every minute of it,” That mare really did make an excellent cushion. She should delay turning in her opponents more often.

Over all, the pie was pretty meh. She wasn't exactly a connoisseur on apple pie, but the whipped cream tasted stale, the apples hadn't been baked long enough and were still hard, and the crust was soggy. Not what she had been expecting given this was first class and all. Oh well. Even bad food tasted great when you knew it was totally free. She set the plate on the little tray table in front of her before she leaned over and opened a pocket of her duffle bag.

She pulled out the free copy of Sports Weekly she had been sent and flipped through it. Sports Weekly. Equestria's number one sports magazine. She paused when she got to the section on the fighting league. That couldn't be right. A flip back to the table of contents only made her eyes widen in shock. She knew the fighting league had gotten somewhat popular, but twenty pages devoted to it?! Hoofball had twenty-two and that was hundreds of years old. The whole magazine only had about a hundred pages total.

All this for a “sport” that was only a few months old. Just how popular were those recordings? Were there fans? Fans of her? Cheering her on as she fought Echo and Speck and Night Terror? Spending money on merchandise? Panic flared up deep inside her followed very quickly by anger. If that stupid contract she signed had given Bill or the league all of her merchandising rights, she knew who her next opponent was going to be. Merchandise was where the real money was made.

She flipped back to the section on the fighting league. Best not to think about such things right now. She had an interview—and photo session—to prepare for. No, no. That was incorrect. It wasn't just an interview. It was a cover story. They wouldn't be talking about the next commissioner of hoofball, they'd be talking about her, complete with a big picture of her slapped right on the cover.

She was never much of a sports fan—all that excitement and hope for a team or pony that'd likely lose right when it mattered, why go through the heartache?—so she didn't much care about the supposed “prestige” being on the Sports Weekly's cover entailed. What she did care about was how much money they were going to pay her. Twenty thousand bits—that's the amount Bill had told her, anyway.

She scrunched up her nose. Most athletes would probably laugh hysterically at such a minuscule number. They wouldn't open their front door for that much. It was nothing in the billion bit industry. She was certain either Sports Weekly was exploiting her in not forking over a bigger sum, or Bill was a terrible negotiator. Probably the later.

She was in no position to complain, though. The fighting league had plenty of other participants. Participants who'd be more than happy to get twenty thousand bits. Participants who also didn't have a tab due at their local gardening expo. Twenty thousand bits for a day in Manehattan and getting your face on a million magazines? Who'd pass that up?

The train lurched slightly as it started to slow. She looked out the window to see the bustle of Equestria's largest city. Ponies walked and ran. Carts and even some of those fancy automated carriages jostled for room on the streets. She craned her neck up and pressed her nose against the glass to see the buildings reaching high into the sky.

It was an amazing sight—especially compared to the relative silence and peace of Hollow Shades—but Midnight couldn't help feel a twinge of disappointment as she soaked in the sights and sounds from outside her train car. Concrete, brick, metal—but very few plants. There was a tree here, and a rectangular planter there, but no lush gardens or landscapes to be seen. Just the dull gray of concrete and cold metal of a city.

She sat back against her soft, muscular cushion while the train slowed to a crawl as it approached the station. It seemed she could cross Manehattan off her list of possible career building locations, “Now arriving at Fifth Street Station. Please refrain from exiting the train cars until an attendant has ensured your safe departure. Thank you for choosing the Equestria Eastern Railroad, Equestira's leading rail service.”

The train car came to a halt and very quickly the sounds of shuffling and movement erupted as the car's passengers were roused from their first class seats. Ponies began removing their luggage, gathering up items they had kept with them in their seats, and tried to calm the excitement of their foals at the adventures that awaited.

Midnight stood up, before her cape tugged her back. It seemed Night had become pressed into the seat's fabric. Reaching a hoof back, she peeled the flattened mare off of the upholstery and let her flutter down and settle onto her back as she stretched herself out after sitting down for the two hour train ride. Midnight grunted in relief as her tight and sore muscles flexed and her joints popped.

She was glad Night hadn't put up more of fight and had resorted to vampirism instead of something more physically exertive—like a rolling pin. While she was still a little sore from it, it was nowhere near as bad as it had been for some of her other fights. The way she had felt after the Gloom Wing fight, she could have sworn she was the one that had been flattened by a mallet. Once she had stretched herself enough, she picked up her duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder before exiting the train car.

Fifth Street Station wasn't nearly as impressive as Equestria Central Station, but it really wasn't meant to be. It was just what it was designed for—an efficient train station meant to move ponies quickly and effectively. It's simple wooden panels and floor elicited little buzz or gawking and that was perfectly fine with Midnight. If time equaled money, then she had very little of either. Although she couldn't help but pause for several minutes to admire the lovely koi pond that sat in the middle of the lobby. There was chrysantha and umbrella palm and she could swear there was even some pony's baby red

Once she had finished admiring, she walked out of the station and into the Manehattan sun. Sports Weekly was based in its corporate parent's headquarters, the... the... Something Building. Her memory never had been the strongest. She sat down at a bench just outside the station and rummaged in her duffle bag for the map they had mailed her.

She looked at the highlights that had been drawn. Fifth Street to Seventh, then down to Lunar Blvd. Midnight's wings unintentionally flared out in excitement when she saw where their headquarters was located—the National Financial Center, home of the famed Summer Garden Atrium. Otherwise known as the only place in Equestria proper that had Celestia robusta palm trees.

There were a host of other plants there, but the palm trees had always been the main attraction. Midnight gritted her teeth in anger. Why hadn't she brought a camera? She'd be able to see some of the only palm trees in the country, and she wouldn't even have any pictures to remember them with. Money troubles or no money troubles, seeing a rare plant is a once in a lifetime opportunity. She still had the framed picture of the Ponya raimondii in full bloom she took when she was twelve hanging above her bed.

She stood up from the bench and looked over at the street sign that was a short distance away. Fifth Street. Best to get a move on now. Would be really unprofessional to be late to a twenty thousand bit photoshoot. She gazed up at the tall buildings and old brick apartments that lined Fifth Street. Hollow Shades really had nothing on Equestria's most populous city. She started walking. Twenty blocks was a fair distance and she wasn't about to pay four bits to take the subway.

Midnight gazed in awe as she walked into the atrium. The palm trees were just as she had imagined them: all neatly lined up in rows on either side of the brick path that snaked its way through the glass structure. Her awe quickly bled into frustration. The place was packed. One would think that would be cause for delight for the gardener. Thousands of ponies enjoying the beauties of the foliage.

But that was just it. They weren't. Business ponies rushed through on their way to the skyscrapers. Tourists had merely stopped on the benches to rest their hooves for a minute and not to admire the mare ferns or daisies that had been carefully laid out around the palm trees. Not a one bothered to look up at the blue sky and floppy palm leaves that framed the glass ceiling.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't blame them. They had places to be. Things to do. Money to make. She could spend all day here, but she had an appointment just as all of them did. Manehattan was a busy city. So busy nopony could seem to take a break and enjoy the wonders that had been planted right under their noses.

She slipped one last glance at the palm trees before she—very politely—shoved her way through the crowded path and toward the lobby of the National Financial Center. Thank goodness the lobby was open air. With all the ponies going in and out, it would be a nightmare if a door got jammed or something. Once inside, she was greeted with posh granite floors and marble walls.

She looked back down at the instructions, “Floor ten, huh?” she looked over at the brass lined elevator and hesitated for a second. Those new inventions always unnerved her for some reason. What was next? A little glass box with moving pictures? She shook her head. Nah, those crystals the fights were recorded on pretty much served that purpose already.

She looked over her shoulder at the squashed dark blue cape that sat gently on her back, “Ready to be interviewed, Night?” She interpreted the soft moan in response as a “yes” and walked into the elevator.

“Which floor, ma'am?” A stallion with a simply magnificent mustache that covered what seemed like his entire lower face stood diligently at a lever that controlled the elevator.

“Uh, floor ten, please,” she replied.

“Very good,” The metal gate closed and the stallion pulled the lever down. The ride to floor ten wasn't very smooth. Creaks and groans that made her tufted eyes jerk and twitch resounded from seemingly every possible area of the elevator. She nearly leapt out the elevator once the gate had opened, “Floor ten.”

“Thanks.”

The stallion nodded, “You're very much welcome.” The gate closed once more and the elevator made its way back down toward the lobby.

Midnight turned to look at the receptionist desk that sat in the small lobby. Hung on the front of the long, curved desk were the words “Equestrian Magazine Co.” The apparent owner of Sports Weekly. And Equestria Daily, Horse News Monthly, Better Hooves and Gardens, Neightional Inquiror, and Mares and Stallions Living if the framed covers that were hung on the wall behind the desk were anything to go by.

“Can I help you?” Her attention snapped from the framed covers to the earth pony receptionist. She walked up.

“Uh, yes. I'm Midnight Dream and I'm here for the Sports Weekly interview/cover shoot... thing,”

The receptionist nodded before picking up the phone in front of her, “Justified Text, Midnight Dream is here,” the mare nodded a few times at what Midnight assumed was the pony on the other end, “Alrighty, I will,” she looked up at Midnight, “Editor Justified Text will see you in his office,” in what seemed like a fraction of a second, she had taken out a diagram of floor ten, a pencil, wrote directions to the editor's office, and handed it to Midnight, “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. It's why I'm here.”

Midnight readjusted her duffle bag before she walked through the door and into the chaos that made up the Equestrian Magazine Company. Pieces of paper fluttered about while ponies screamed over the sound of dozens of typewriters. In the background, the faint rumble of printing presses could be heard. Midnight looked down at the diagram, “Where's this Justified Text at, anyway?”

A golden stallion stared out his corner office window at a freighter that was slowly and carefully pulling into Manehattan Harbor, “I'm not happy about this.”

The brown stallion sipped his coffee lightly before placing it back on the coaster in front of him, “You don't have to be happy about it. You just have to do it, Mr. Text.”

Justified Text looked behind him at the pegasus sipping coffee, “Of course I do. It's not every day your CEO calls you up demanding editorial discretion.”

The brown stallion raised a hoof, “Ah, ah, ah. The CEO of Equestrian Magazine didn't call you, one of the UFL's Benefactors did. Please remember to use the proper terminology. We already have Attorney General Skies doing some saber rattling over the league's activities. The Benefactors don't need their confidentiality compromised,” the stallion idly swirled his coffee around in the white mug it was in, “Especially when Princ—”

There was knock at the office door. Justified Text sat down in his leather office chair, “Come in.”

“Hello, Mr. Justified Text, I'm here for that fighting league interview,” Midnight caught one final glance at the management style of the Equestrian Magazine Company before she closed the door. She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her mane and hastily flapped Night several times to clear her of the debris that had accumulated.

“Ah, Miss Dream. It took you long enough,” Bill raised the coffee mug in a mock toast, “How is Manehattan?”

Midnight paused in her attempt to find a trash bin to throw the piece of paper in. What in the world was Bill doing here? “B-Bill? Why are you here?” She would have thought he'd be busy scoping out another warehouse or preparing her to fight one of the Captains of the Guard.

“I'm you're manager, Miss Dream, and you're about to be the central topic of one of the biggest sporting honors in Equestria. Why wouldn't I be here?”

That... actually made a great deal of sense, “Okay, so why didn't you just come with me?” Not that she wasn't glad he decided to travel separately. She'd almost rather Night have won than spend two hours stuck on a train next to him.

“If you must know, the league had some business they wished for me to attend to here. We're negotiating a contract with the Equestria Broadcasting Corporation to get radio broadcasts of the fights. Crystals are great and all, but they have a limited magic savvy customer base,” Of course they were negotiating a new revenue stream. One that probably wasn't covered in her contract, “And before you start complaining,” Midnight shut her mouth just as she was about to give the pegasus a piece of her mind about contracts, “All fighters will receive a twenty-five percent cut.”

Midnight scrunched her nose in a pout, “We should be getting at least fifty percent. We're doing all the work,” she mumbled.

“Yes, well, you don't currently have a lawsuit pending from the Warehouse Workers Union of Equestria.”

Justified cleared his throat, “Mr. Booking, Miss Dream. I hate to interrupt your squabbling, but Sports Weekly has very tight deadlines to keep. If you'd follow me, we can begin the photo shoot,” he motioned toward the door. As the group was leaving the office, he looked at Midnight's dark blue cape, “Uh, Miss Dream?”

She looked over her shoulder at the unicorn, “Yes?”

“Might I ask what you're wearing? Because it looks an awful lot like a—”

“Pony?” she grabbed Night's head and flapped her several times, “This is Night Terror, my last opponent. Say 'hi,' Night.”

“Uuuuuuhhhnnnnn.”

“I... see. I thought you turned in your defeated opponent after beating them?”

The group zigzagged through a maze of cubicles as they headed toward a set of stairs that lead to the next floor“Well, I was going to turn her in, but it was so late by the time the fight finished—because somepony—” she glared at Bill, who just rolled his eyes, “—decided to schedule the fight so late—that I opted to just keep her for the night. Then I had to get ready and all that so I just decided to take her with me,” She rubbed Night's flattened leathery wings, which were tightly pressed to the mare's back, with a hoof, “She's a really comfortable cape, too.”

The group walked up the twisting wrought iron staircase and into the next floor up. The room was just as big as the office a floor below. Midnight had never seen so much white before. Half the room was covered in white sheets and movable pieces of boarding. The other half was filled with what was probably very, very expensive photography equipment. Ranging from cameras chairs to complex lighting contraptions that looked like umbrellas with light bulbs taped to the ends.

“I'm sure she'll make a very nice bonus to the photo shoot, although you might have to leave her out of the cover image depending on what legal says.” A million bit lawsuit was the last thing he needed right now. He motioned to an earth pony who was busy polishing a lens, “Now, I'd like to introduce you to Auto Focus, our chief photographer. He'll be the one directing today. Auto?”

The stallion lazily raised a hoof over his head and waved it, his focus still firmly on the lens. Justified's PR mask cracked with a snorted in annoyance before he was able to recompose himself, “My apologies. Auto Focus can be rather... focused on his special talent at times.”

“No problem,” Midnight knew what that was like. Spending hours and hours on seemingly menial tasks like ensuring the mulch was evenly distributed or that your collection of those little cards that came stuck in a potted plant's dirt where all neatly arranged and stacked by species—or cultivar group.

Auto gave the lens one last look before he screwed it onto his camera. After ensuring it fit snugly, he tested the zoom several times before he wrapped the camera's strap around his neck and turned around, “So, Text, who we workin' over, today?”

Justified rubbed an eye with a hoof, “It could be worse, I suppose. I could have had a multimillionaire athlete diva doing a cover shoot today,” he mumbled to himself before straightening up, “Auto, meet Miss Dream and Mr. Booking of the Underground Fighting League. Miss Dream will be on next week's cover.”

Auto eyed Midnight. She cast a weary look at the earth pony. The last pony to stare at her like that tried to suck her dry and turn her into a seat cushion, “Uh, hello?”

Auto started circling around her, “My, my. I've never seen a bat pony before—or do you call yourselves thestrals? I skipped that sociopolitical class in school.”

Midnight crinkled her nose at the archaic term. Princess Luna was pretty much the only pony that still referred to them as such—and that was more because of the whole “olde Englishe” thinge than due to official terminology, “Bat pony's fine.”

“Ah, okay. Bat pony then. Now, where to begin? First we have to be careful with the lighting. Too much and that light gray fur of yours will wash out, and too little at it'll make you look like some kind of spooky vampony. Then there's the ma—wait, what's that on your back?” He pointed to Night's squashed body.

“Oh, that would be my last opponent, Night Terror. I didn't get to turn her in in time, so she's been tagging along as a comfy, soft cape,” Midnight wiggled her flank, which let Night flutter into the air before she gently settled back onto Midnight's back.

“Wow, what kind of fighting league is that?” He shook his head and waved a hoof dismissively, “Never mind. That opens up a whole new set of possibilities, though,” he looked over his shoulder at one of the dozen or so ponies who were busy fiddling with their equipment, “Hey, Bulb, did you remember to get the fan?”

“What in Celestia's heaving thighs would we need the fan for?”

“So that's a 'no,' then? Go get it,” He looked back at Night's flattened out body, “It'll be great. We'll get that cape of your flapping around wildly. It'll make for some great shots.” he walked up to Midnight, “While Bulb goes and gets the fan, why don't we get started? No doubt Text is ready to pop a blood vessel with how long this is taking.”

“Sure,” Midnight looked around at the empty white void that made up most of the room, “Where do you want me to stand?”

Auto had retrieved a tripod and was setting up his camera on it, “Oh, uh, there's fine,” he pointed to a random spot on the white floor, “It's not really about getting the right photo just yet. I just want to get a feel for how things are—how photogenic you are, what angles work best—that sort of thing. Now, smile!”

Midnight smiled as the camera's shutter began to go off. Every couple of seconds, a flash bulb would flash with a loud bang, “Good, good. Now try some different poses. Doesn't matter what, just different ones each time,” she hovered in the air, spun around, bared her fangs, grabbed Night and waved her in front of her herself.

As she practicing her dodging abilities, a question kept nagging away. This wasn't at all like what she had been expecting. She figured they'd go to a gym or something and take some pictures of her punching a punching bag or mock wrestling another pony. But a big empty room full of camera equipment? “Say, Auto?”

“Yes?”

She did a roll and Night's squashed flank fell over her face, causing her to flip the squished mare over her head, “I'm not into photography, but why aren't we doing like a location shoot? Why a white room?”

Auto grabbed a more portable camera from off a nearby trunk and started walking around Midnight, snapping pictures from every angle possible, “Location shoots are so last decade. Cutouts are what we do now.”

“Cutouts?” For a second, panic swelled within her and she scanned the room, searching for presses or mallets—any kind of heavy object that could be thrown at her. With the way things had been going lately, she wouldn't be surprised if they really were going to try to turn her into a cutout.

“Yeah. Well, it's more properly called collaging. We take a picture, then we carefully cut out the parts we want and place them over other pictures. It's much cheaper and more artistically friendly. That way we can have you posing in just about any location imaginable. And with the artists we have, we can make you look exactly like you would in that location.”

Oh. No presses, then. That was a relief. That would also explain the lack of gym equipment, “Oh, I guess that makes sense,” She could tell it was more about the cost than the art. When you got down to it, everything boiled down to bits. It was a lesson she found to be quite hard.

“He's that damn fan you wanted, Auto. It was a huge pain in the flank to get from storage,” the large industrial sized metal fan was wheeled over.

“Excellent. Now the real fun can begin.”

********

Bill smiled. They were ahead of schedule. The photoshoot hadn't taken nearly as long as he had thought, but he wasn't a photographer, so he didn't really know anything about photoshoot's or how long they take. He glance over an article about bean curd prices before looking up at the wall clock that hung above his somewhat uncomfortable waiting room chair. Now if only the actual interview could be as fast as the photos had been, he'd be able to get out of this city and get back to league work. Midnight's next fight was coming up and he needed to think of a way to really take advantage of this magazine publicity.

Bill licked a hoof and flipped the magazine's page. No more backwater Night Guards, that was for sure. He'd need to bring in some star power to go against the undefeated bat pony. It was high time she actually faced a challenge. Huh, that was interesting. ManeChem was going to be divesting their solvent division. He'd have to check and see how much stock he had. The price might be going up. The door to his right burst open and out stomped the gray bat pony that had allowed him to purchase that stock. Oh no. She had that glare in her eyes and she appeared to be scanning the room for him. Maybe if he kept the magazine close she'd—

“There you are!” she walked in front of him, “That was horrible—I mean, it started out fine, but it ended terribly. No wonder athletes don't do these things for twenty thousand bits. I probably wouldn't after that.”

He tossed the magazine down on the end table next to his chair, “Yes you would.”

Midnight huffed, “Maybe I would, but it was still bad.”

He could feel one of those annoying behind-the-eye headaches coming on. That bat pony seemed to induce those quite often, “And just what was bad about getting interviewed for a cover story in Equestria's third best selling magazine?”

“Half the questions were about karma.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Karma?”

“Yeah. Karma,” she began to pace around in front of him. It was like she was nervous or something, “'Do you believe in it?' 'Do you think you can remain undefeated?' 'How do you think your fans feel about the ways you've defeated your competition?' 'Do you know anything about karmatic field theory?'”

She stopped and looked at him. He noticed her wings were far more jittery than usual. They were causing that foal Night Terror to flutter and shake on her back, “Did you know there's such a thing? Some kind of magical aura ponies have that is influenced by the positive and negative decisions they make? That plays a role in 'random chance?' I-I didn't know that.”

She was worried about that? “It's a ten page interview, Miss Dream. No doubt it's going to have different sections in it—there's probably an entire page devoted to your 'record' and the likelihood of you being defeated. They probably tossed in that karma information as a nice little hook to the readers.”

Midnight inhaled deeply. Right, right. It was just some useless fluff to pad the article out. She hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't like fate would deal her a cruel hand for beating her opponents, was it? “Y-You're right, Bill. I'm sure it was nothing.” She already had enough to worry about with all the bills and ponies trying to flatten her. She didn't need to add crazy unicorn theories to the list.

“Of course it was,” He stood up from his waiting room chair. Midnight winced at the cracking noises the emanated from his back and ankles. He was almost as bad as Night had been.

“Ah, there you two are,” Justified Text wove between several empty cubicles—it seemed the day shift was starting to pack it in—and stopped in front of the duo, “I see Cross Eye finished her interview. How'd that go, Miss Dream?”

Terribly, “It went well. Although, I can't say I'm one for the media spotlight.”

Justified chuckled, “Few ever are. In fact, I've found over the years that most of the time the spotlight seems to find those least qualified to be in it—not that I'm implying you're in that camp, of course.”

It sure felt like she was in that camp, “Now that it's over, have you come to bid us goodbye before everypony else leaves and we're the only ones here?”

Justified glanced over his shoulder at the increasingly empty office. Once five o'clock hit, everypony bolted for the door like there was a fire. He strongly suspected if there ever was a fire, they'd actually be slower getting out, “Partly,” He looked over to Bill, “I actually wanted to give Mr. Booking the copies of the pictures from the shoot he requested—” He passed Bill a large white envelope before looking at Midnight, “And give you your check.”

Midnight's wings shot straight up. A wide, beaming smile promptly followed, “My check?!”

Justified shrunk back slightly while Bill merely rolled his eyes. That mare and her bit obsession, “Yes. Twenty thousand bits is quite a large sum. Better to give it to you in person than trust the Royal Mail Service to do it.” He handed her an envelope, “Please give a day or two to allow the bank to process it before you try spending it. They need to verify it with us after they receive it.”

She practically ripped his leg off when she grabbed it. A long, some might argue erotic, sigh followed as she opened the envelope and gazed down at the thin strip of paper marked with the First National Bank of Eauestria's logo. Twenty thousand bits. Two, followed by four zeros—six if you count the cents. It was her's. This fighting thing had been the best thing to ever happen to her.

Justified looked over to Bill with increasing alarm, “Is she alright?” The last thing he needed was witnessing that damn cover image curse happen right in front of him.

Bill looked up from the three of the photos of the athletic mare, “Oh, she's fine. She's had money issues lately and gets rather excited when she comes across some,” A bit too excited if you asked him, “Is there any way you could have two hundred of each of these printed out in the next two hours?” He handed them over to Justified who looked down at them and then back at the brown stallion.

“You're lucky the printers are here till nine. I'd have to speak with them, but I'm sure that's possible.”

“Good, because Miss Dream here has a little publicity gig down at the boardwalk later today and I'd like there to be something to give out to the fans.”

It felt like a piece of specialized paper, but she knew that rectangle with Justified's signature on it was really worth hundreds of cubic feet of topsoil. Or several years' worth of mortgage payments. She'd never fall behind again! That's what twenty thousand bits got you. Twenty thousand bits. Two, followed by fo—wait, what did Bill say, again? She looked up, “Huh? I'm doing what now?”

Bill looked at her, “Publicity. Fans. Autographs. That sort of thing. You're one of the UFL's stars, Miss Dream. It's high time we start using that star power for something.”

Fans? Publicity? It was bad enough getting interviewed about karma, “Wait, wait ,wait, wait. Fans? But I'm just a bat pony gardener.”

Bill stared at her. She was still on about that gardening thing? “A gardener who's currently undefeated and who has had some of the most exciting fights. Watching ponies fight is boring—you bring a unique take on a tired sport.”

If that's what you wanted to call flattening, then sure, “But fans? Publicity? You don't need me for that kind of stuff.”

Bill let out an exasperated sigh before rubbing his temple with a hoof, “You'll get a thousand bit bonus for it if you do.” Money was the root of all evil and the only way to get that stubborn mare to do anything.

Midnight practically leaned up against him, a wide smile on her face, “So, when does it start, again?”

********

“I actually got an ad in my mail about it,” She'd nearly memorized that line by now, she had said it so much, “Then I just went to their office in Hollow Shades and signed up for the first fight,” Everypony asked the same questions. Over, and over, and over again. 'How'd you get started?' 'What was your favorite fight?' 'Why do you have a flower for a cutie mark if you're into fighting?' That one annoyed her more and more every time it was asked.

“Really?” the pink filly hopped up and down excitedly at discovering just how easy it would be to beat up all those meanies—and get bits for it, too! “That's sooooo cool,” she stopped hopping and sulked, a pout forming, “Why couldn't they have sent me a flyer?”

Midnight chuckled, “I don't think you're quite ready just yet,” Or desperate enough financially. More so the later than the former.

“I'm plenty ready!” she puffed out her pink chest, “Just look at these moves,” the pegasus filly started to bob and weave, intermixing it with several punches in the air. All the while she yelled out exaggerated grunts and groans. She tried several times to take off but only succeeded in increasing her jump height by a foot or two. Finally, she ended her display with a roll and a kick of her kind legs, “See?”

Midnight's smile couldn't be dampened. She was just so cute. The pinkness certainly helped. No wonder ponies had foals, “Quite impressive, but I still think you'll have to wait a few years before trying out for the big leagues.”

“But why?” she leaned up against the table to get closer to the bat pony, “I got all the moves I need. All you need to do is put in a good word with those Benefacers of yours and I'd be a shoo-in.”

Before Midnight could respond, a voice resounded from the benches on the other side of the boardwalk, “Cloudfire, it's time to go. We have to get back to your uncle's before it gets dark.”

Cloudfire jumped down from the table and turned around, “Awww, but mom!”

“Buts are for babies, Cloudfire. Now come on.”

She turned back around, “Thanks for everything, Miss Midnight,” she placed the autographed photo in her satchel before fastening it back onto her back.

“Oh no. Thank you for rooting for me. These fights are a lot easier to win with fans like you cheering me on.”

With a sparkle in her eyes, the filly nodded before she scampered away to meet her mom at the benches. Midnight watched the pair slowly walk away before turning her attention to the next pony that walked up to her small table, “Hello there.”

“Hello,” The pegasus mare looked her over, “So, you're Midnight Dream, huh?”

“That I am,” a sudden gust of wind from the harbor blew across the boardwalk, causing the cheap plastic tablecloth to flutter wildly. Night joined the tablecloth and flapped around in the wind, letting out several squeaks as she did. Midnight hastily grabbed hold of the dozens of photos that were on the table to prevent them from blowing away. The boardwalk, with it's benches, wide walkways, and what she could guess was one of those piers with an amusement park, was really nice, but the wind could get rather annoying. That was the fifth gust that hour. No wonder nopony else bothered with booths or tables.

Once she was sure the wind had died down, she placed the photos back in their rough piles and repositioned Night so that she assumed the comfy backrest that she was becoming an expert at, “Now that that's over, which picture do you want?”

The white mare looked down at her options. There was a picture of Midnight with her chest puffed out and Night Terror fluttering about like a cape; one of her in an aggressive stance, with her fangs bared menacingly; and one of her with an awkward, nervous smile while she scratched the back of her head. That Auto Focus may not be the most socially inclined pony, but he really knew how to do market appeal, “I guess I'll take that one,” she pointed to Midnight's bared fangs, “What can I say, I've always been a fan of fangs.”

Midnight ran her tongue over her fangs, “They're fantastic for juicing fruits,” Always play up the fruit angle. That was bat pony PR rule one. Rule two was to deny their role in the Great Baltimare Durian Flood of 873.

The mare smirked, “Always with the Night Guard propaganda, even with plain evidence to the contrary laying right on your back,” Midnight glanced over her shoulder at the flat blue mare that was pressed against her fold up chair. Right. She sometimes forgot about the whole 'fights are recorded and viewed by millions of ponies' thing.

“Hey, that was purely defensive. You saw.” she opened the ink pad, pressed her hoof onto it, and “signed” the picture. The first couple had been tricky, but after doing it a few dozen times, you tend to get the hang of it. After she handed the picture to the mare she glanced down at her hoof. With the number of pictures she'd stamped with it, she'd be lucky if the blue ink ever came off.

The mare looked over the picture, “I know. I said I was a fan of fangs, didn't I?” she looked up at Midnight, “So how was it?”

The vague questions were the worst. It was like they expected her to have telepathy. Going into ponies' heads was Princess Luna's thing, not bat ponies'. At least to her knowledge. Who knows what secrets the Night Guard had, “You're gonna have to be more specific.”

The mare rolled her eyes, “You know? You're last fight. I've heard there's nothing quite like the sensation of sucking another pony's blood.”

Midnight suppressed a shudder of pleasure at the memory. She had definitely heard right, “You've been reading too much about bat pony nationalism. It was alright, but I think I'll stick to watermelons,” That didn't mean she would flap her gums to everypony about it. She wasn't about to be the one that set back bat pony relations a century.

The mare snorted and shook her head, “You bat ponies sure are tight knit. Never leaving that town of yours. Never defying that 'fangs are for fruit' Night Guard PR. Never bucking the trend,” she looked back done at the picture, “I suppose it's why I got into bat ponies. You all are just so... mysterious.”

Got into? Midnight had heard about a wide range of hobbies. Trainspotting, building birdhouses with little furniture inside for the birds, biking—but bat ponies? Was there really a whole group of ponies that obsessed over her species—race, cline, whatever it's called. She never paid attention to the genetics section of biology. Not when botany was right around the corner.

Did they attend meetings? Draw art? Sneak into Hollow Shades? Write creepy stories about bat ponies doing really weird things? The mare rolled her eyes, “Oh, stop.”

Midnight was snapped out her thoughts of a whole mailing list of bat pony fighting novels, “What?”

“You were giving me that look.”

She really needed to hide her reactions better, “What look?” Ignorance was always a great strategy.

“It's the look almost every bat pony gives when I tell them I'm fascinated by their culture. It's like you guys can't believe that other ponies would hold an interest.”

Midnight raised an eyebrow, “Is there this much interest in unicorn or pegasi culture?”

“I don't know. Maybe? I'm sure each subspecies has its fans. I just find bat ponies the most interesting. There's just so much you guys have that the other subs lack. The wings, the ear tufts, the fangs, the darker coloration.” As the mare said each one, she gazed over that part of Midnight's athletic body.

“So I take it you're more interested in my appearance than my fighting abilities?” She wasn't quite sure what to feel. She thought she'd have fans, but her species having fans? That was something else entirely. Those nationalists wouldn't be happy if they found out bat ponies were being reduced to a an obsession of nerdy pegasi. She'd have to bring it up with them the next time they came to her door as an annoyance tactic.

“Well, partly. I was following all the bat ponies that were taking part. Now, you and Captain-General Solar Eclipse are the only ones left,” she smiled, “I will say ever since that fight with Second Lieutenant Echo I've been rooting for you over the others. There's just something about those fights of yours that pique my inter—” A short distance away, past a very impatient tan earth pony foal who was pacing around, a brick and stone clock tower's bell rang out the time, eight o'clock.

The mare's head jerked over to the large clock in panic, “It's eight already?! Oh no. Where'd the day go?” she looked back at Midnight, “I'm sorry, Midnight, but I really have to go. It was nice talking with you.”

“You too.”

She flapped her wings several times to stretch the muscles before she took off and hovered off the ground, “Thanks for the autograph. I'll be rooting for you during your next fight—even if it is against a pegasus.” The mare and Midnight exchanged waves before she started flying away.

Midnight's attention was abruptly shifted away from the disappearing white pegasus and onto her table, where the tan earth pony colt had plopped himself, “Finally. I thought she'd never leave. So you're Midnight Dream?”

“Yup.” No need to be formal. He was foal, after all.

“Oh, boy! I didn't think I'd get to see you. After all the traffic and burst water mains—and then that pegasus, I was sure I was going to miss you,” he pointed at one of the pictures of her smiling awkwardly, “I want that one. I already got one of Gloom Wing posing aggressively, and Lightning Dust probably has the best puffed out chest picture around.”

He has publicity shots of other fighters? Either that or Gloom Wing liked photography. She wasn't sure who that Lightning Dust pony was, but the fighting league had gotten pretty big. She wasn't the only one in these fights, “Sure thing, kid.” she grabbed one of the picture's and got her hoof ready.

He hopped off the table and let his saddlebag slide off his back and onto the ground once he landed, “Thanks! I heard you're doing the next cover of Sports Weekly, too.”

She dabbed some of the blue ink off her hoof. Even after so many pictures, it was still hard to get the right amount. Too much and the hoofprint wouldn't dry right and too little and it wouldn't show up well on the glossy paper, “As a matter of fact, I am. Where do you think these photos came from?”

“Aren't you worried?”

Midnight stamped her hoofprint onto the publicity shot, “No, why would I be worried?”

The foal looked around conspiratorially, “You know, the curse.”

She furrowed her brow as she gave him the picture, “The... curse?”

“Yeah! The Sports Weekly cover curse. Almost everypony that gets featured suffers some form of misfortune,” he reached into his saddlebag and held up a several week old copy of Sports Weekly, “You see him?” The foal pointed to the brown earth pony on the cover.

Midnight looked at the cover. She may not be into sports, but she could still recognize hoofball when she saw it. Looked like he played for the ritzy Canterlot Castles judging by the logo on his jersey. Her attention was drawn to the suggested retail price. They didn't print that on those free promotional copies. Her eyes widened, “Five bits?! Justified Text charges five bits for one of these!?” That was insane. Five bits for some glossy paper and ink glued together. She knew she was getting a bad deal. Twenty thousand bits. They were raking in the dough and they had the gall to just give her twenty thousand bits.

Screw fighting—she needed to get into the printing industry. That was where the real money was at. Maybe she could start a gardening magazine. There were all sorts of things to write articles on. How to plant bulbs. Identifying poison oak. Maybe dress up the titles with something really worrying—The Most Dangerous Thing Your Foals Will Encounter, The Plant That Will Kill You In Minutes—to drum up more readers. She'd be set.

The foal looked at the gray athlete with a puzzled expression. He thought ponies getting bit signs in their eyes was just something that happened in cartoons but here was evidence it apparently happened in real life as well, “Uh, Miss Dream? Are you okay?”

Midnight was snapped out of her fantasy of owning a rare five thousand year old juniper tree, “I'm sorry, kid, I got distracted. What were you saying?”

“The curse,” he said forebodingly.

“Yeah. Right. 'The curse'.”

He seemed to not grasp her sarcasm because he just carried on, pointing at the cover he still held, “That's Growth Hormone, star of the Castles. Two days after appeared on the cover, he broke his foreleg and is out for the season.”

Midnight suppressed a snort, “It's just a pony's tale. Athletes get hurt all the time.” It was a miracle she hadn't popped a tendon or something yet, “It doesn't mean there's a curse.”

The foal was still determined. He tossed the magazine on the ground before grabbing another from his saddlebag and throwing it on top of the first, “Perfect Season, featured last month. Got a sprained ankle.” Another magazine joined the pile, “Corked Bat, also last month. His team got swept out of the playoffs.” A third magazine, “Juiced Ball, five weeks ago. Got disqualified from the World Championships for having too tight of a swimsuit.”

Magazine after magazine. Injury after injury. Midnight couldn't help but wince when the young foal started a second pile when the first become taller than he was. It was just a coincidence. It had to be. She wasn't bound for some horrible fate. She'd be out of these fights long before something bad happened. Karmetic field theory was just a theory by crazy unicorns, right? Another magazine hit the stack and another cringe inducing injury went along with it. How'd he fit so many magazines into his saddlebag, let alone carry all of them across half of Manehattan?

“Ref Ball, featured four months ago. She ate some spaghetti.”

Wait, that wasn't horrifying. That would actually be pretty good. She looked around the stack of magazines and at the foal, “That doesn't sound bad.”

“She has a gluten allergy and was out with intestinal cramping for three weeks.”

“Alright, alright! I get it,” Intestinal cramping. For three weeks. It'd be better to get forced through a wringer for that time than go through something like that, “You don't have to worry. I'll be fine.” Probably. Maybe. She'd have enough bits to pay off her little cottage in no time. She'd be out of the 'ring' long before her magazine cover joined the foal's stack.

“I'd just be careful, Miss Dream, or you just might end up like that cape of yours.”

Midnight glanced over her shoulder at the still squashed Night. Maybe it was about time to turn her in. A gentle breeze caused the wafer thin mare to flutter softly off Midnight's back and into the air. Night let out a soft whimper that Midnight could just barely hear over the breeze. In all the excitement and publicity of Manehattan, she had completely forgotten about her defeated opponent's fate.

As Night flapped in the air, Midnight realized she had put her pony cape through quite a lot. Night had been pressed against Midnight's back so often and with such force that her belly and chest had been indented into the shape of Midnight's back. Her blue and white mane and tail had become jagged and rough from the abuse. It also appeared as though she was quite a bit flatter than she had been after the fight. Her muscular body just wasn't able to withstand being a backrest for too long. They just don't make capes like they used to.

It wasn't Midnight's fault. She had never had much in the way of clothing and Night's soft fur was very comfortable. The flat mare's muscular body also meant that she was nicely padded and somewhat firm—but still soft and cushiony. She was the perfect backrest.

Midnight looked back at the foal, “I don't think I'll wind up like her. She had this nasty habit of chewing with her mouth open.”

The foal crinkled his nose at the faux posse Night Terror had apparently committed before his face brightened, “Oh yeah. Thanks for the picture.” he held up the publicity shot, “I've nearly got a full collection of all the active fighters.”

Midnight smiled, bemused. Oh for the days when your only worry was collecting autographed photos and not crippling debt. No wonder nostalgia was regarded as one of the stronger feelings, “Oh?”

“Yeah! I actually got Rainbow Dash's before she started fighting—but I'm counting it anyway,” The Element of Loyalty was involved in the fighting league? One of the ponies that had defeated an insane alicorn, a spirit of chaos, and the entire changeling hivemind? She was doing these fights too? Midnight fidgeted slightly.

“Especially since Spitfire's gonna be the hardest to get. I don't know when the Wonderbolts are supposed to be back in Manehattan.” S-Spitfire? Captain of the Wonderbolts? Sure, the Wonderbolts didn't have the greatest reputation but they were still vastly superior to a failed gardener. She might be able to avoid facing Rainbow Dash, but it was doubtful her lucky streak would prevent her from at least running across one of them. She fidgeted again. What had she gotten herself into?

The foal pouted, “And I don't know what I'm going to do if the rumors that Princess Luna's joining are tr—hey, Miss Dream? Are you okay? Why are you so sweaty all of a sudden? And why do you look so pale?”

End of Chapter Four

Author's Note

No actual fetish scenes this chapter as the plot takes center stage. You'll just have to settle for the passing scenes of Night Terror.

Get ready, because we're getting out of OCs and moving into canon characters. OOCness, here we come.

Midnight vs. Spitfire

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter Five: Midnight vs. Spitfire

“You're out of your mind,” She had her suspicions for a while, but this was the damning evidence she needed. Irrevocable prove that he was several cards short of a full deck, that his marbles had been totally misplaced and forgotten, that... that... some other idiom for going insane.

Bill's eye twitched ever so slightly. Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered with that bat pony. She was more hassle than she was worth. Okay, that was actually incredibly incorrect. She was worth significantly more than any amount of hassle. The Benefactors would kill him—and it was distinctly possible that was not hyperbole—if he let their golden goose slip by.

“Miss Dream, surely you've guessed these fights would only get harder as we approached the championship? The days of fighting no name guardponies are long over. It's time to step it up.”

“Spitfire?! Spitfire. You want me to fight the Captain—the commander of an entire section of Equestria's military—of the Wonderbolts,” Midnight briefly put a hoof to her forehead to try and quell the oncoming headache, “The Wonderbolts!”

Bill shrugged, “And? You're telling me you're fine with fighting Night Guard personnel but draw the line at the team that can't even run their own training program without nearly killing the Elements of Harmony?”

Midnight pointed the hoof at Bill, “You know full well I've never been fine with fighting highly trained members of the military. It's a miracle I've come this far and now you want me to go against a Captain of the Guard?!”

“Would you rather it be a Captain-General?” He was sure Solar Eclipse would be more than happy to lend a hoof.

Midnight glared at her manager. As if one step below a Captain of the Guard was any better, “I'd rather fight a normal pony. Aren't there any bakers or janitors, or—”

“Gardeners?” her glare intensified, “No, I'm afraid at this stage all those are long since gone. You could say you're the only 'normal' pony left,” he smiled, “Somewhat ironically—what with you being undefeated and all—you're still considered the underdog,” And boy do ponies pay to root for underdogs.

“That makes me feel so much better,” If there was one positive thing she could get out of Bill, it was that he had really helped her hone her sarcasm. She sighed, “There's nopony else?” There had to be. The league was all over the country. It couldn't just be down to a few ponies.

“Oh, there's plenty of other ponies,” Bill looked up as if in thought, “Let's see, Rainbow Dash—she's still undefeated as well,” Midnight winced, “Would make for a great match. Then there's Solar Eclipse—she's second in command of the Night Guard,” the wince turned to a scowl, “Lightning Dust—also undefeated. Not to mention reckless. She's the one who nearly killed the Elements of Harmony. And—”

“Fine! I get your point,” she mumbled.

Good. He didn't have any intention of letting her weasel her gray butt out of this fight. The Benefactors had already invested far, far more than they ever had before into this match and he wasn't about to fly to Canterlot Castle and tell them that investment was now useless. And just to make sure she didn't try to back out, “This is a big fight, Miss Dream. You could even say it's the quarterfinals. It's so big, we're tripling the pay for the winner.”

Midnight's eyes widened, “T-Tripling?” That was more than Sports Weekly had paid her. She could almost pay off her cottage with that kind of cash. She bit her lip. That was a lot of money for a few hours work. A few hours work fighting one of the most highly trained ponies in the country. A pony who'd almost certainly crush her—and given how the previous fights had gone—most likely literally.

Was it really worth risking getting turned into a decorative bat pony throw rug? “So where's the fight going to happen?” Gray and purple rugs were in season this time of year.

That bat pony was too easy to convince. Jiggle a hooffull of bits in front of her and she'd walk to Tartarus and back, “Well, I've got a treat I think you'll enjoy. Remember those warehouses?”

She nearly collapsed into a deflated pile of gray fur with all the air she let out with the sigh. More Luna-damned warehouses? Enough! She got it. He had a thing for the giant structures. He probably built little models of them and slept with one under his pillow. But she could die happy if she never saw the interior of another one.

“Given that overly dramatic reaction, I'm sure you'll be happy to know this fight won't be taking place in one.”

She immediately brightened, fluttering off the ground momentary, “Really?”

“Oh, yes. Since you're fighting Miss Spitfire, the league's decided to really go all-in with this fight. Ratings and what not. First, it's going to take place in Cloudsdale, as opposed to the relatively sterile environment of Hollow Shades.”

She'd never been to Cloudsdale, and, unlike unicorns or earth ponies, she could actually go. Cloud walking wasn't just instinctual for pegasi. She'd never really had any reason to visit the great city—more so given it lacked any plant life. Pegasi may be experts when it comes to watering, but she doubted there was a gardener anywhere in that city. Grim job prospects aside, she had fun in Manehattan. Maybe Cloudsdale would be similar.

“Secondly, given Cloudsdale's size and the league's desire to really make this fight worth its price tag, we'll be trying out a new 'open' format. Instead of the fight taking place in a confined setting, like in previous fights, you and Miss Spitfire will be free to fight wherever you please.”

Of course. Can't make it easy and fight the Captain of the Wonderbolts in a nice confined space, now can we? There had to be big aerial skirmishes, complete with loops, dogfights, and acrobatic maneuvers. All of which she was absolutely terrible at. She was a gardener—one who had just barely passed her flyers ed class to get a license—not a highly trained military operative.

Wait, open fighting? She looked in concern at the brown pegasus, “All the fights so far have been nice and contained. Won't that sort of thing get the attention of the authorities? These fights haven't exactly been peaceful,” Can't have some innocent bystander get flattened like a pancake. She certainly wasn't about to take the blame for it.

“Ah, you see, this is where the Benefactors investment comes into play. They've organized—at great cost—several areas that will be free of bystanders. They are: Hurricane Central Park, the Cloudosseum, and the Weather Factory. Of course, you can still fight in the presence of other ponies,” he got up nearly nose to nose with her and glared at her, causing her to nearly fall back, “Which is why you must exercise great caution. Wait until you're in one of the open areas that are free of bystanders before you start the crazy fighting, understand?”

She nodded, “Absolutely.”

*******

Doppler Radar stuck her nose past the red curtains for a third time. No matter how many times she peeked out at the street in front of her house, she still couldn't get used to the sight of the automated carriages that currently lined it. Setting aside the fact they were unholy abominations of technology that would no doubt lead to thousands of ponies losing their jobs, they were parked on a cloud street. A cloud street!

Heavy, metal machines were sitting daintily on top of clouds. Their rich, snobbish owners could not only afford them, they could afford to have them enchanted and flaunt them around her peaceful neighborhood. She'd be writing strongly worded letters to both the city council and Princess Celestia. Not only that, she'd be going to the homeowner's association meeting next week and voice her complaints loud and clear. She couldn't wait to see the look on Thunderwing's face.

Cyclone glanced up from his newspaper at his yellow wife, “Are you done admiring the wonders of technology yet, dear?”

She hastily drew the curtains shut and turned around, “You know full well there's nothing wonderful about it.”

“You need to stop obsessing over it. Just let them have their little carriage show. It'll be over soon,” he looked back down at the sports section. Hmm, Midnight Dream won her latest fight. That mare was practically unstoppable, “Celestia knows you'll be worrying about something new tomorrow,” he mumbled to himself.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Just complaining about the Typhoons' coach. They're five and fifteen, you know.” This definitely wasn't the fight to pick. You always need to choose your battles carefully.

She gave him a look. Yup, definitely not the fight to pick, “I don't care if it'll be over soon,” she opened the curtains yet again and looked back out the window at the carriage show that was underway. Several of the ponies hopped into their primitive coupes and fired up the engines with several loud backfires and a couple plumes of black smoke.

She pointed at the smoke in alarm and looked back at her lazy husband who was lounging on a chair in the den, “See, see!” she hissed, “Who knows what happens to that oil when it burns? Just look at all that pollution!”

Cyclone stared out the window next to his plush chair and at the large smokestacks that sat atop the Weather Factory a few miles away. Plumes of smoke and steam billowed from the facility, “Yeah. It's a wonder we haven't all suffocated yet from the carriages' emissions.”

She huffed, “Are you mocking me, Cyclone?”

He couldn't help the sarcasm. It was hereditary. He got it from his mom, “No, no, of course not. I was just—”

Their dining room wall evaporated in an explosion as two ponies slammed through it and into the chairs and table before sliding into another wall, knocking several pictures from off it.

Cyclone threw his newspaper to the floor, “What in the world!”

Doppler squealed in terror and ran to her husband's side, “I knew the griffons would invade,” she lightly batted him on his shoulder, “This is why you should have built that air raid shelter like I told you to.”

Midnight sat up and shook her head. Spitfire was quick. Really quick. She needed to... duck! An end chair flew over her and landed in the foyer. She turned her head just in time to see the yellow blur slam into her, “Oaf!” The two ponies rolled around on the wood floor before she was able to kick Spitfire off of her.

“Do something, honey, before they reach the antiques cabinet!” Doppler ribbed her husband, “Be the stallion you always said you were.”

Cyclone turned to his wife in agitation, “What do you want me to do?” he motioned to the two ponies who were taking turns flipping the other over, breaking several of the dining room chairs in the process, “In case you haven't noticed, that's Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts. I'm not about to get involved. Who knows what's...” he looked down at the newspaper, which was still open to the sports section. He then looked back up at the undefeated bat pony who was trying to put Spitfire in a choke hold with little success, “... going on.”

Of course that stallion wasn't going to do anything. He never took out the trash. Never did the dishes. Never fixed that crooked shelf in the bedroom, “What? What's that supposed to mean?”

The red pegasus sat up out of his chair, slightly giddy. Could it be? Front row seats to the next fight? He turned to his wife, “Do you realize what this is?”

“The Wonderbolts fighting a terrorist? Some kind of ancient nationalistic cult bent on resurrecting the gods of old to bring bat ponies back to their former glory?” She grabbed Cyclone and shook him in panic, “A false flag operation by the Night Guard as part of Princess Luna's coup de'grace against Princess Celestia?!”

He shook himself loose of his hysterical mate, “No. It's the fighting league's next fight,” he clapped his hooves together in excitement, “Oh, there were rumors there'd be one in Cloudsdale, but I didn't think it would happen so soon,” he jumped up and raced for their bedroom, “I need to get my camera. The guys will never believe this!”

Doppler suddenly cringed at the sound of her grandmother's antique cabinet getting a bat pony carefully and gently kicked into it, “B-But what about getting them out of the house?” That stupid fighting league. She knew she should have kept a better eye on it after Cyclone got hooked. And of course he'd get hooked on it. A bunch of sexy, athletic mares wrestling and thrashing around on the floor. What stallion wouldn't get hooked? She sighed and poked her belly. She really needed to start going to the gym again.

A second later, he came flying back into the room—literally, a camera hanging from his neck. He ran to a stop as he landed, steadied himself, and immediately started snapping pictures of the duo that were currently destroying his dining room/breakfast nook. Neither Spitfire or Midnight paid any attention to the clicking sounds of the shutter as they circled each other over the splinters that once made up a dining room table.

The second Spitfire lunged at Midnight, Cyclone flipped up the flash bulb with a hoof and a strobe effect engulfed the dining room as he continued to snap pictures. Both fighters were dazed by the bright flashes and they tumbled over each other before crashing into the kitchen counter. Midnight kicked Spitfire off herself and made a break for the foyer that Cyclone and Doppler were standing in.

“'Scuse me,” she nodded at the two pegasi before opening the wooden door and running outside. Doppler numbly nodded back. In an instant, Midnight shot into the air. A house was a terrible place to fight. She needed to get some distance between her and Spitfire and maybe regroup a little.

Cyclone took one last picture of the retreated gray and purple blur before he turned his attention and camera back to Spitfire. She sat up and growled, “And where do you think you're going?” she yelled before she exploded off the floor, kicking up dust and splintered wood as she did, and shot out the door in an even faster blur than Midnight.

“Wow,” Cyclone flipped the camera off and let it drop down against his chest, “That was amazing,” he looked down at the camera, “I can't wait to get these developed.”

Doppler just stared in shock at her ruined dining room, and the large, gaping hole in the side of her house that several equally shocked neighbors now looked through. She walked slowly into the room and surveyed the damage. Wood, bits of cloud, and her fine china lay on the hardwood floor. She picked up a broken teacup before letting it slip off her hoof and shatter on the floor.

Forget about the automated carriages. She was going to write about that devilish fighting league. She might even call up the Attorney General's Office. They had been investigating the league, after all.

Midnight breathed a sigh of relief as she looked down at the really fancy looking automated carriages that lined the suburban street beneath her. She'd seen some in Manehattan, but never imagined they'd be all the way up here. When you have money, you might as well flaunt it. Her tufted ears perked at the sound of somepony rapidly gaining on her. Gee, who could that possibly be? Just as she looked back, Spitfire slammed into her and the two crashed into the admittedly soft road surface. Construction-grade cloud is still much nicer than concrete.

Several horseless carriage enthusiasts wearing what Midnight could only assume were derby hats—they didn't have the proper tops or rims to be fedoras—jerked their heads over from their three cylinder Damesire-Benz roadsters and stared. Spitfire immediately straddled Midnight and started punching her indiscriminately. The pinned bat pony responded by trying to parry the blows.

This wasn't going good. Her attempts at blocking the punches were being met with limited success. If she didn't do something quick, Spitfire would likely get in a couple of well placed blows and she'd be out of it. She tried to land a couple of punches on the pegasus, but Spitfire had such good positioning it made it nearly impossible.

Another attempt at Spitfire's face was easily blocked by the mare. Spitfire smirked, “Got yourself into a jam, huh? Quite a sha—gagh!” A loud bang echoed from behind the two followed by a plume of smoke. One of the jalopies had blown a gasket.

Midnight took the opportunity to punch Spitfire in the jaw and knock her off. While the dazed pegasus sat on the cloud road and rubbed her jaw, Midnight once more took off into the air. Time to try this again. She'd just been unprepared previously. If she knew Spitfire was coming, she wouldn't get taken by surprise.

The yellow mare growled once more and shot off after the bat pony. Midnight glanced behind her and saw the rapidly approaching Wonderbolt. Just as Spitfire neared her, she slammed on the brakes and came to a stop, before doubling back toward the car show. Without slowing down an inch, Spitfire turned sharply and continued her pursuit.

Midnight ducked down low to the ground—err, clouds—flying as fast as her bat appendages could flap. Several more auto aficionados wearing leather booties and scarves jumped out of the way as she weaved between several coupes that lined the road. Spitfire avoided the pointless dodging and simply flew over the cars.

Okay. This really wasn't going well. Midnight had figured it probably wouldn't—Captain of the Wonderbolts and all—but you can't blame a pony for at least trying. Midnight glanced up at the clouds that hung lazily above the cloud city. Time for some new tactics. She could use the cloud cover to her advantage and stun the pursuing pegasus. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it could give her some time to think. Maybe find a steamroller or something to end the fight quickly.

She shot straight into the air and did a completely unnecessary corkscrew while she approached the cloud layer. Spitfire merely rolled her eyes at the pony's antics. Awkward backpedaling? Useless obstacle evasion? And now trying to hide in clouds? This bat pony evidently didn't watch the Wonderbolts perform very often.

Just as Midnight entered the cloud layer, Spitfire accelerated and grabbed hold of her purple tail. The move stunned the bat pony and allowed Spitfire to jerk her back, “Ouch!” Midnight glared at the pegasus, “What are you trying to do, de-weed my butt?”

“No, just stop these silly chasing tactics,” she pulled Midnight close and quickly punched at the mare's exposed ribs, “Oh, and get you close enough so I could do that.” Midnight kicked at the pegasus, but her rear hooves only caused some of the cloud to evaporate. Spitfire had already retreated into the white soupy mess.

“In fact, I'd say this was probably an even worse tactic than the chasing ones.” Spitfire shot out of the gray fluff and slammed into Midnight, knocking her clear of the clouds and back into the open sky. She looked around in a panic. Where was Spitfire?! This was going bad. Spitfire hit her again, this time from the top, having arced over the clouds and down at the bat pony. Pain started to radiate from her tired wing muscles. Very, very bad.

It was just no use. Spitfire was Captain of the Wonderbolts—she'd beat Midnight in an aerial fight every time. She had trained for years in the best air division in the country and was a master whereas the most Midnight had were a few free flight classes at the rec center to prep her for the flyers ed test. She needed to get out of the sky as fast as possible or Spitfire would win handily.

Midnight looked around. This was Cloudsdale. There had to be a large, open building around here somewhere she could dash into. Cloudsdale's downtown area caught her eye. It wasn't that far away and it no doubt held a cornucopia of buildings. Just as she was starting to make her way, Spitfire grabbed her tail yet again and yanked her back. Was that the only trick that pegasus knew?

Now wise to the mare's tail tactics, Midnight kicked her in the chest and used the momentum to push herself off and in the direction of Cloudsdale's busy downtown. She strained her wings and closed her eyes tightly, trying to push every fiber of her wing muscles as hard as she could to get some distance from the pegasus. She wasn't having much luck with that so far, but there was always hope.

She banked to the right and dove toward Cloudsdale's town center. Maybe she could get into a mall or something and finally take this fight to the ground—well, cloud-ground equivalent. Spitfire was having none of that, though, and sped up to intercept the fleeing bat pony. Midnight braked hard to stop her descent and hovered in place as Spitfire circled her.

“That's all you do is run, isn't it? Run. Hide. Try and evade me. Run some more,” she laughed. It seemed to Midnight the laugh had a twinge of bitterness to it, “I should really expect that from the Night Guard, though. It's just typical of you. It fits you all to a tee. When confronted with any sort of challenge, what does the Night Guard do? Flee back to your little enclave and hide.”

It seemed there was a little interservice rivalry going on. Judging from the anger in the yellow mare's voice and face, however, it appeared to be a little more than that, “While the Wonderbolts face danger daily—while we're busy fighting—you just sit in your little town, act all mysterious and flashy as Princess Luna's guards, and rake in the recruits and funding.”

Spitfire had gotten so caught up in her own ranting, she wasn't even really paying attention to Midnight. Seeing an opportunely, Midnight slowly sank lower and lower away from the bitter pegasus, “Parliament can't give you enough money and what do we get? Ridicule for not defeating Tirek. Scorn for endangering Princess Twilight and her friends,” Spitfire continued to increase her speed as she worked herself up and had to widen her circling as a result to check the centrifugal forces.

Now about fifty feet lower than Spitfire, Midnight made a beeline for the steam and smoke that was spewing out of the weather factory. Why hadn't she just gone there first? It would have saved her a lot of grief. Not to mention muscle pain from all the strenuous flying she was doing.

“Now I have to do these stupid fights just to boost morale and show everypony just how much better the Wonderbolts—” Spitfire happened to look to where Midnight was supposed to be, but saw the fleeing gray blur rushing toward the Cloudsdale Weather Corporation's stubby glass headquarter building that lay in front of the factory, “You get back here!” she snarled, before quickly speeding off in pursuit.

Midnight hugged the cloud surface. She glanced behind and saw Spitfire rapidly gaining. She looked ahead and jerked out of the way of a lamp post just before hitting it. That was close. She swooped through the parking lot adjacent to the neo-Greek style office building. Why did they have to have their huge headquarter building right in the way of the weather factory?

Just as she was about to collide with some bush-shaped clouds, she veered upwards and hugged the building's glass facade. She looked down at the windows that whizzed by. Huh, now that she thought about it, it would really be a lot quicker if she just went around rather than over the buil—

“Got you!” Spitfire suddenly slammed into her at full speed.

“I just don't understand what they're thinking,” a blue pegasus neatly slipped another sheet of paper into his typewriter, “I mean, why even bother asking about plant shutdown costs if you're just going to shut down the whole weather factory, regardless? And why even have a shutdown for a day when there's no labor disputes or undersupply?”

The white pegasus nodded, “You'd be better off trying to decipher one of those Taratrus monsters than you would upper management,” she sat back straight up in her chair and flipped her abacus several times as she continued some calculations, “Remember the mess that happened to payroll?”

“Hey, Sky!”

Silver Sky looked from the abacus to the cubicle behind her, “Yeah, Pay?”

Pay Day scratched his orange mane while he stared at the small “word of the day” calendar on his desk, “When's the TPS report due, again?”

She glanced up at her cubicle wall and the paper calendar that had been scribbled with so many notes, you could barely make out the actual dates, “Thursday.”

“Ah, that's right. I thought it was—” the glass window in front of the cubicle next to Sky exploded inward, sending a shower of glass onto the blue pegasus within.

“Celestia's flaming orgasms!” he quickly ducked under his desk.

Midnight and Spitfire slammed through several cubicle separators before hitting a large, magnetic tape computer that sat next to a wall. Midnight sat up, wincing. Was that crazy Wonderbolt trying to kill her? Who knows what razor sharp shards of glass could do to a pony's neck or wings. After rubbing several sore spots—thankfully none with cuts on them—she looked around at the small crowd of office workers that anxiously looked on at the two, “Heh, heh. Sorry about the win—ahff!” Spitfire had abruptly sat up and punched her in the gut.

The crowd immediately broke into murmurs just loud enough for Midnight to hear over the growing pain in her stomach, “Is that Captain Spitfire?”

“What's she doing fighting a bat pony?”

“Where's security when you need 'em?”

“My leg!”

Midnight reeled back from the gut punch, only to get kicked in the leg. She fell to the ground, dazed. Spitfire smirked, “I guess Night Guardponies aren't trained for high speed impacts. What a shame,” She walked behind Midnight and placed a foreleg around her neck, “Now to choke you out and end this.”

Before the pegasus could start squeezing, Midnight clamped her fangs down onto the yellow fur that had presented itself to her mouth, “Youch!” Spitfire immediately batted at the bat pony's head with her free hoof. She had to dislodge that damn mare before the enzymes started to kick in. Midnight let go, opting to defend her head instead of trying to wait out the pegasus' assault.

Spitfire leapt backward several yards to regroup, nearly stumbling over a typewriter that had been knocked to the floor as she did. She clenched her now sore leg. Just what she needed. An injury three days before the next performance. That's what she gets for trying to end the fight quickly and effectively.

The group of onlookers looked at Midnight with wide, fearful eyes. There'd always been those rumors about bat ponies. Maybe there really was something off about them and that secret town they lived in. Midnight snorted when she saw their faces, “Oh, come on! She was trying to choke me out. What was I supposed—woah!” She heard Spitfire grunt and ducked just in time to avoid the typewriter flying through the air where her head had formerly been.

First the glass window. Now a metal typewriter. Either that interservice rivalry went a lot deeper than she had first thought, or Spitfire had some serious issues. Spitfire screamed out and lunged at her. Okay. Maybe a little of both. Midnight flapped into the air and bonked her head into some ceiling tiles. Distracted by the asbestos dust, she was unable to stop Spitfire from grabbing her tail yet again—she really had a thing for tails, didn't she?—and whipping her around several times before tossing her into another row of cubicles.

Midnight dizzily pushed a filing cabinet from off her chest and looked up at the yellow pegasus that was hovering above her, another typewriter in her hooves. She flinched as Spitfire lifted the heavy typewriter above her head and prepared to drop it on her before one of the doors flew open and several security guards swarmed into the room.

“Security! Everypony please stand down,” the somewhat overweight gray pegasus that led the group said. So much for the Benefactors ensuring the fight could go on. Not that she was complaining given the situation.

Spitfire quickly dropped the typewriter into the pile of debris and looked at them, “Officers, I do apologize, but this is official business,” Spitfire hovered over to the guards. Midnight could have sworn she heard mention of somepony named Aurora Dawn as the Wonderbolt talked with the officers.

No sense in letting a good opportunity go to waste. She slowly edged her way over to the broken window while Spitfire chatted with security. First the house. Now an office. Inside or outside—it didn't seem to matter to the Wonderbolt. Either way she was winning. Dread and doubt slowly crept into Midnight. Would the weather factory really be any different? She peeked one last time at Spitfire before slipping into the cubicle with the broken window. She carefully stepped around the glass shards lying on the ground and—

“Hey, what's the bat pony doing?” Midnight froze in place from the voice behind her just as she was stepping onto the desk. Ah, crap. She looked back to see everypony staring, “Um... sorry about the window?” She dove out the window, making sure to avoid the sharpened glass that surrounded the hole.

Spitfire growled and lunged away from the guards, “Get back here!” She soared through the office. Dust, debris, and paper were kicked up as she too disappeared out the window. The office was in shambles. Over half the cubicles had been broken down and their contents strewn about. Several of the ceiling tiles had been jarred loss. And, of course, there was now a five foot diameter hole in one of the windows.

Silver Sky looked from the ruined office to the security officers, “Aren't you guys going to stop them?”

The fat gray one shrugged, “Stop the Captain of the Wonderbolts? Did you drink too much coffee this morning, Sky? Besides, there not on Corp. property anymore. It's out of our hooves.”

“Plus, did you hear what Spitfire said about Aurora? I want to make sure the big cheese signs off on this stuff before we try to stop anypony,” another of the officers piped up.

“You could at least call the Royal Guard!” Why even have a security department if they're not going to do anything?

“Which we will. Right after lunch.” the fat pegasus motioned for the other officers to follow and they left. Silver Sky grunted in frustration as she walked over to her broken cubicle to try and find her abacus in all the mess.

Spitfire would no doubt be right on her tail—Tartarus, she'd probably and grab it. Midnight eyed the building's glass facade. She couldn't outrun the Wonderbolt, but maybe she could hide from her right under her nose. She hugged the side of the building and slipped around a corner just as the angry pegasus shot out of the hole. Maybe she'd be able to sneak away. She watched as the yellow pony growled in annoyance at the lack of a gray bat pony being in the vicinity.

Spitfire hovered in place thirty feet away from the side of the office building. She scanned the sky and the fluffy white “ground.” Where did that damn bat pony go? Running away must be her special talent because she was a master at it. She looked around again. This was useless. She needed a higher vantage point.

She shot up into the air, the wind whistling in her ears while her mane and tail whipped behind her. After several seconds, she was hundreds of feet above the Corporation's headquarters, but still no sign of the pony. Midnight Dream had to be hiding. After everything that had happened, there was no way that pony had suddenly gained the ability to fly better than her. There had to be some way to flush this stubborn bat pony out.

Spitfire's face brightened as she thought back to the little debriefing the fighting league had given her on Midnight. The bat pony loved money. It was her “primary motivator.” Spitfire cleared her throat, “You know. This isn't a very interesting fight if all you do is run away,” she started flying around the parking lot, hoping to catch a glimpse of gray fur or purple mane, “I don't thing the league is going to be very happy if this is the tactic you're using,” she smirked, “They might even dock you're pay when this is over.”

“Like Tartarus they're going to!” Midnight snapped a hoof to her mouth. Oh. Spitfire's tone couldn't have been more blatantly trappy if she tried. She'd walked right into that one.

Spitfire looked over at one of the building's edges. It seemed money really was that pony's motivation. She quickly flapped her wings to intercept the hapless bat pony. Keeping this fight in the air was the best option given her dogfighting training and how incompetent her opponent had been so far. If only she had brought some wingblades or maybe a whip with her.

Midnight took off. Got to get to the weather factory. She flew behind the office building, which was connected to one of the factory's many interconnected cloud buildings by a very modern looking glass encased foot bridge. Although the marble pillars that had been added to make it blend in with Cloudsdale's architecture, it didn't really fit in very well. She flew over top of the bridge and neared the complex.

The Cloudsdale Weather Factory was truly an impressive sight to behold. Many pipes wrapped around the construction-grade cloud exterior, some weaving back inside, others dipping down into the ground, and still others draining various completely non-toxic liquids into retention ponds. Several smoke stakes adorned the roof of the facility, while she could just make out a cooling tower on the far side that was lazily spitting out steam.

Too busy admiring Cloudsdale's engineering crown jewel, she failed to notice Spitfire right on her tail, until the pegasus swiped at her rear hooves and knocked her off balance. She went tumbling sideways before she righted herself and used her momentum to land on the roof. Well, hit it hard and skid to a stop on her side. But a landing's a landing.

She looked down at the white tile floor inside the weather factory. She had apparently come to rest right over a skylight. And given Spitfire's like for ramming at high speeds... Midnight looked up just in time to see the yellow pegasus slam down into her and send the pair crashing several stories down into the factory proper. They spun several times in midair, attempting to use the other to cushion the impact.

Wait a minute. Why did she need to cushion the impact? Midnight flapped flapped her wings hard to slow her descent. Realizing any impact advantage she had was gone, Spitfire did the same, and the two landed fairly softly on the tile floor, aside from the glass shards that poked at her hooves.

Midnight glanced around at the machinery anxiously. It was all running. Hydraulic pistons slammed bits of metal together. Vats shot out steaming hot gels and runny liquids. Steam hissed from pipes and fittings. Conveyor belts spun around with nothing on them. And there wasn't a single factory worker to be found. The place was totally deserted. It sent shivers up Midnight's spine. It was like something out of a horror movie.

Spitfire saw the same eerie factory as she did, “Huh. I knew Aurora was a Benefactor, but I never imagined she's organize something like this,” she looked to Midnight, “Pretty creepy, eh? Even for a bat pony.”

What was with the generalizations? Everytime, without fail. Something spooky? Oh, surely the bat pony will like it. Not every bat pony wore a jack-o-lantern on their head and drew pentagrams on their walls. She just nodded.

“You can burn me as many looks as you want,” and maybe she also visually indicated her displeasure, “It's not going to help you.” Spitfire jumped at her and thrust a forehoof forward. Stumbling back, Midnight was able to parry the blow and twist her body to the side, allowing Spitfire to slip past her.

Spitfire slide across the tile floor and turned around, but Midnight had already disappeared behind several tanks of Liquid Air®. The Wonderbolt grit her teeth in anger, “This has gone on far, far too long,” she started walking around the machinery, checking each corner as she passed, “ These fleeing tactics may be Night Guard staples, but they're not going to work. You need to either fight or give up.”

She startled back at a pipe's sudden hiss of gas above her head, “How do you think it's going to look that you're exposing your Night Guard's cowardly tactics to the public?” she smirked as she leaned her head under some metal struts to check for gray hooves, “Maybe it'll even put the Wonderbolts in higher regard.”

Midnight ran through a pair of double doors, “I don't care how it looks for them. I'm not a member of the Night Guard,” She stumbled to a stop a few feet away from the doors. Below the metal grating she was standing on were half a dozen huge vats of goop. She looked over at a control panel that was connected to the catwalk she was on, “Cloud mixing tanks?”

Even with the sturdy railing, Midnight had to question the policy of having giant open vats of chemicals. She peered over the edge into one of the tanks. A large metal stirring thing slowly spun around inside the vat of green liquid. She looked to her side, where a life ring was hung with a sign that read: “In case of accident, use to retrieve fallen pony.” She snorted in amusement. At least they didn't completely ignore the open tanks of chemicals.

She felt herself be lifted up and over the edge of the platform. She really needed to stop getting distracted. There was a fight going on. She could take a tour some other time. Thankfully, she simply oriented herself and hovered over the tank, “You did remember I can fly, right?” Spitfire responded by chucking the life ring at her as hard as she could, “Ow!” For something designed to save your life, it really hurt when it hit you.

Midnight quickly flew to the other side of the room and through another set of double doors, with Spitfire chasing right behind her. Once through, Midnight's eyes rested upon a whole warehouse worth of heavy machinery and conveyor belts, all of it running and all of it without a single worker present. She looked up as she landed. Above her was a large white and red sign bolted to a support column that held up the roof which read: “Warning: open air machinery in operation. Mind all clothing articles and hair when within machine work zones. In event of accident, disengage machinery immediately.”

Spitfire jumped onto her back, causing her to stumble, “Finally giving up?”

She elbowed the pegasus in the face, “Not just yet,” Spitfire responded by kneeing her in the ribs before using her wings to lightly, but very uncomfortably, swipe at her throat. She struggled over to one of the many support columns and rammed Spitfire into it several times. The pegasus slipped from off her back and wobbled back, slightly dazed.

She pressed her advantage and tackled the yellow mare, before punching at her face and chest. Spitfire covered her head with her forelegs, while using her hindlegs to entangle Midnight's. The two mares grappled on the ground and rolled several times. With neither realizing it, they slipped over the OSHA-mandated red line that warned of the machine work zone. Around them, cogs and gears of the machines clanked and spun.

Amazingly to Midnight, for once, she came out on top of one of these grapples. The two ponies had rolled into the gap between two of the machines. Several feet above them, a hooked conveyor belt gently fed small puffy clouds from one machine to the other. She had Spitfire pinned, but that was all she had. With all four of her hoofs disposed trying to prevent the struggling mare from freeing herself, there wasn't much left she could do—especially with how much Spitfire fought against the pin. You'd think she was in the military or something.

But Midnight had forgotten about one body part. As Spitfire distracted the bat pony with her struggling, she quietly slipped her wings out from behind her, before she quickly swiped them up, surprising Midnight and knocking her forelegs off Spitfire's pinned ones. Spitfire laughed as she rapidly punched Midnight's soft underbelly several times.

Midnight gasped and fell onto her back, groaning. Spitfire picked herself up from off the tile floor and shook herself to knock some of the dust and dirt off, “That was impressive, but amateurs always forget about the wings. They're just as important as your hooves.” Spitfire leapt at her, hoping to take advantage of the downed bat pony.

Midnight winced and kicked the pegasus with her hindlegs, causing Spitfire to tumble back and hit a piece of machinery. She slide down and shook her head several times, “Okay. Yeah. I'll admit, that was kind of stupid of me,” She got up and stepped forward only to suddenly be yanked back by the tail. Instinctively, she reared onto her forelegs and bucked at whatever was stupid enough to grab her, only for a sudden sharp pinching sensation to shoot up her body from her now stuck rear hooves.

“What the—” Spitfire looked back at what had caught her tail and rear hooves. Her eyes widened in fear as she saw a pair of rollers squashing her legs and tail flat, “Oh.” Midnight watched in awe as the athletic mare was slowly fed through the first pair of rollers. Spitfire tried desperately to grab onto something to stop herself from being fully flattened out, but she only grabbed at air.

Midnight glanced at a large red emergency shutoff button that was attached to the support column next to her. She could extend an olive branch from the “Night Guard” and help the Wonderbolt Captain out. She'd likely already won given nearly half of Spitfire was now as thin as a sheet. She reached out to press the button but paused. What if the fighting league didn't accept it? Maybe they had some policy about half flattenings. Maybe she'd only get half paid. Not wanting to risk getting gypped of her bits. Midnight put her hoof down and watched the scene unfold.

With most of her legs now flat, Spitfire attempted to overcome the pull of the rollers and use her wings to yank herself free. Flapping desperately, she strained her muscles as she tried, but every second she failed, more of her body was sent through the maw of the machine—and that made it that much harder to free herself. She let out a yelp as her butt and cutie mark made their way through the rollers.

It was quite a sight for Midnight to behold. One which was quickly disappearing. She took her eyes off of the rapidly flattening out pegasus and walked to the side of the machine to get a better view. On one side of the rollers was Spitfire's upper body, straining to free herself, while on the other was a thin yellow and gold line that was the mare's legs and flank. Spitfire's flattened body was firmly pressed to the lower roller as it spun around. Midnight noticed another set of rollers located underneath the first set. He attention refocused on Spitfire's vain attempts to free herself.

Spitfire panted, exhausted. She sagged down and relaxed her aching muscles. Despite her best attempts to free herself, her belly slipped between the rollers and was squashed. She was just able to tuck her tired wings against her back before they, and the rest of her body made their way through the rollers. One last time, she looked around in panic, before her shoulders and head made their way through the roller, “Noeurgh.”

With her muzzle through the rollers, her forelegs made their way through to join the rest of the Wonderbolt in her flattened state. Midnight watched as Spitfire was now flattened to the lower roller as it spun around. Just as it seemed like the pegasus might be trapped on the roller, doomed to be constantly flattened out in between the two rollers, her tail and hind legs were peeled off by a small wedge angled against the roller, which appeared to be there to prevent things from getting stuck to the roller's surface.

The rest of Spitfire's flat body peeled off of the roller and fluttered down several inches toward the second pair of much smaller rollers. Midnight saw the dizzied expression on the flat mare's face along with her tongue that was sticking out. Spitfire's thin body gently slipped right between the two rollers. Midnight winced as the athletic pony was squashed for a second time.

Now noticeably thinner, Spitfire grunted feebly as she softly landed on a conveyor belt. Midnight was now able to get her first good look at Spitfire's squashed state. The yellow mare was flat on her belly, her fore and hind legs flattened straight out like she had been caught in the middle of a leap. Her wings were tightly pressed to her back, while her whole body seemed to have widened out slightly due to the pressure of two sets of wringers. Stands of her orange mane had been flattened against her wide eyes. Judging from the half-conscious look in them, it appeared the rollers had done a number on the mare. Her tongue was still splayed out of her mouth.

The conveyor belt carried the flat mare several feet away from the rollers. Spitfire seemed to recover slightly from her flattening and slowly peeled her head off of the belt and glanced around. With no immediate dangers, Spitfire flexed her muscles and was able to pry the rest of her body from off the belt's surface. Midnight looked behind Spitfire's wafer thin body and saw dozens of hydraulic pistons which buffeted the conveyor belt. No amount of training could have prepared Spitfire for this.

The flat mare flapped her squashed head behind her and looked at the pistons. She whimpered and began to try and slide her way away like an inch worm. Unfortunately, her desperate attempt at fleeing wasn't quick enough to out crawl the conveyor speed and the squashed pony continued to head toward the pistons and an even flatter fate.

The first of the pistons slammed against one of her flat rear hooves, causing her to yelp in shock. Spitfire still tried to inch her way away even as the pistons began to crush her already squashed body even flatter. Midnight winced once more as she heard Spitfire grunt and groan at the

squashing she was going through. Hindsight being what it is, it probably would have been a better idea to have just pressed that shutoff button.

Mercifully, the conveyor belt moved beyond the pistons with Spitfire now firmly pressed to its surface. She stared upward, her eyes glazed over from the flattening she went through. At the end of the conveyor belt lay one final set of rollers. Seeing there wasn't anything beyond it, Midnight walked over to fetch the paper thin pony once she completed her crushing trip.

Spitfire's squashed body made its way through the final roller and once she was fully clear of it, she gently rocked back and forth as she fluttered into a bin positioned underneath the rollers. Midnight peeked into the bin and saw just how flat Spitfire had become. The athletic mare resembled nothing more than a Wonderbolt-themed mat or bed sheet.

She reached into the bin and pulled the wafer thin yellow mare out. She then flapped Spitfire's flat body several times like a blanket before she let her land softly onto the tile floor of the factory. Spitfire eyes refocused and settled into a glare at the bat pony that had defeated her, “Oh, come on. Don't be like that.” Midnight stared uncomfortably at the flat pony. All of her other opponents had been pretty accommodating once flat. It was going to be really awkward having Spitfire glare at her like that all the way back to the league's office in Hollow Shades.

Her face suddenly brightened. Of course, who ever said Spitfire's face had to be facing outward? She could just roll the mare up face down like the Wonderbolt poster she was. Then all she'd have to see was the pegasus' fiery orange tail, and flat, yellow rear hooves poking out. Plan now in mind, Midnight walked up to Spitfire's muzzle and reached down to pick up her forehooves.

Spitfire smirked. What a foalish bat pony. She abruptly lunged her flat body up and sucker punched Midnight in the snout. Unlike Night Terror's attempts, the paper thin hoof maintained its force and sent the bat pony reeling backwards clenching her stinging nose with a hoof, “Gah! What the Tartarus?” Midnight looked down at the hoof. Luckily, her nose wasn't bleeding. Spitfire's hoof lacked any depth and so didn't have the diameter needed to really do much damage.

She looked up and her jaw dropped in shock. The squashed Wonderbolt had assumed an aggressive standing position in front of her, despite the fact the pony was a quarter inch thick. Spitfire wobbled and flexed in place as she continued to glare at the stunned mare, “You got me good, I'll admit it. It'll probably take weeks to regain my depth. But if you think for one second I'm just going to let you roll me up and waltz away, you've got another thing coming.”

Midnight just continued to stare, slack jawed. Th-This shouldn't happen. She'd won. She'd flattened her opponent and now could relax and await the bits. That's how all the other fights ended. These were one round fights. There wasn't supposed to be a round two. She should be halfway back to Hollow Shades by now, enjoying the sun and clouds while riding the thermals.

Seeing her opponent's confusion, Spitfire pounced. She flexed her flattened muscles and charged forward. Being flat was certainly going to be a pain, but it did make her much more dexterous. She had to admit that. That idiot bat pony stumbled backward. She really had been thrown off by this, hadn't she?

Midnight tried to duck under the thin yellow line that was assaulting her, but Spitfire was able to adjust—even in midair like a sail—and kick her in the chest with a flat hoof. The kick stung, but not nearly as much as it would if it had been done by a fully three dimensional hoof. It seemed a lot of Spitfire's power had been flattened out along with her depth.

Spitfire's squashed body skidded to a halt several feet away. The flat mare was panting from her brief attack. Midnight smirked when she looked over at the origami pony. Power wasn't the only thing she was lacking. With her lungs now just as paper thin as the rest of her body, it made her get winded more easily. Midnight definitely had a huge advantage.

She decided to go on the offensive and seize her weight and depth advantage. She charged forward before she shot her wings out and jumped into the air, gliding toward her wafer thin target. Upon reaching Spitfire, she twisted upward and kicked at the flat mare several times with her suspended hindlegs. Spitfire easily dodged out the way of the kicks by twisting and folding her flattened out body out of the way of the blows.

Midnight huffed. She landed and tried the same tactic only to be met with the same result, complete with Spitfire folding herself up into a small yellow and gold pile when she tried a punch-kick combo. Spitfire sprung up from her pile and slammed her hooves into Midnight;s soft belly, knocking the wind out of her.

It appeared depth and weight weren't everything. New plan. Run. That always worked before. Why stray from the classics? She took flight once more and shot backwards, watching as Spitfire began to pursue after her. It was pretty dangerous flying blind with all this open air equipment. Knowing her luck she'd run into a steam press or—she slammed back-first right into the open end of a chute.

Panic quickly swelled up. What a stupid way to get flattened. You're on the cusp of victory and you literally walk—well, fly backwards into—the squishing jaws of defeat. She winced and tightly shut her eyes, expecting some sort of press or roller to make quick work of her lean, gray body. She could hear the heavy industrial noises of whatever she had blundered into echoing from inside the chute, but her body remained fully three dimensional.

It was only when she opened her eyes that she realized she was hovering inside the chute. It's opening curved downward like the elbow of a pipe into whatever machinery lay beneath. If she got a wing cramp, she fall right into what was surely a flat fate. She breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed karmatic field theory really was just a crazy theory.

Spitfire lunged into the chute and grabbed onto her. Maybe it wasn't! Maybe it wasn't! “Get off me!” She had to be very careful. The chute wasn't terribly big. A jerk in the wrong direction and one of her leathery wings could bang into the metal side and send her tumbling down.

“Why? Seems like a very fitting end to such a pain in my now flat flank,” Spitfire tried to reach up and grab one of her wings.

Midnight grabbed and pulled at the flat mare, trying to prevent her from getting to her prize, “You'll fall in too, you know. It'll be a draw. Nopony will win,” she wasn't really sure if it would be. If she was squashed really flat and Spitfire wasn't, than the flat pegasus could just turn in her dazed, flattened out body.

Spitfire glanced down at her paper thin form, “At this stage, fine by me.” Even with the determined Wonderbolt playmat grappling and prodding her, Midnight was still able to just barely navigate her way to the chute's opening. She grabbed onto the edge with her forehooves and slapped her wings tightly against her back. The pair fell hard onto the metal floor of the chute, eliciting a metallic clang that reverberated within it. Spitfire had been partially dislodged from Midnight's body and now looked into the chute behind her in fear.

Midnight looked back and smiled at the fear in Spitfire's eyes, “Well, if you want to go in so badly, please, be my guest.” she kicked at the flat pegasus with her hindlegs several times, before she felt Spitfire's thin hooves finally slip off.

“No, no no! Wait!” With one final kick, the flattened Wonderbolt crumpled into the back of the chute and fell into the machine with a loud, echoing shriek, “M-Midnight, please! Y-You gotta turn it o—uuaack! N-No, wait! T-That's not supposed to bend that wa—huurgh.” Groans and grunts echoed from within as whatever the machine was worked over the athletic Wonderbolt Captain.

Midnight sighed in relief and pulled herself free of the chute. She looked over at the machine's controls, “Cloud Compactor, huh?” She cast a glance at the OSHA signs that were bolted above the chute's opening that warned of open intake machinery and the location of emergency shutoff buttons before she snorted and walked over to the conveyor belt on the other side of the machine.

Just as she looked at it, a yellow and orange brick fell onto the conveyor belt. Spitfire whimpered softly as she slowly made her way down the conveyor belt. Midnight grabbed Spitfire's crushed body and placed it on the tile floor.

The mare's already flattened out body had been tightly compressed by the force of the compactor. Her squashed legs were wrapped around the edges of her cubed body. At the top, her mane was visible while most of her face and muzzle was obscured by a rear hoof, which had been folded and crushed around the side. One glazed over eye poked out from underneath the hoof while the tip of her muzzle was bent downward.

Her wings weren't visible, presumably being crushed somewhere inside the yellow block. Midnight was really amazed by the fact that, even though Wonderbolt had “regained” her three dimensionality, her body was still very clearly flat, having been folded and bent in order to fit the shape of the block. She resembled a folded up yellow towel that had been through a compactor.

Midnight picked up the crushed mare, “Now can I turn you in?”

Spitfire could only whimper weakly in response.

End of Chapter Five

Author's Note

It just wouldn't be a flattening story without a roller scene, now would it? For anyone interested, the flattening scene with Spitfire was inspired by the story The Paper Factory, where a very similar scenario befalls Dash. It's also one of the very few other MLP flattening fics around.

While I'm all for the “weak and immobilized” style of flattening, my preference is for a character to retain their facilities and mobility post-flattening. I was saving the body compression for the next chapter, but just couldn't resist using it early once I had that last scene in my head. I was originally going to use Fleetfoot, since she's basically a background pony of little importance, but I really don't like her design or voice and the temptation to use Spitfire was just too great.

Plus, thanks to Spitfire's rather rough characterization as of late, it might actually be a little in-character.

Midnight vs. Dash

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter Six: Midnight vs. Dash

“What am I going to do?”

A manila folder sat on the kitchen table. Midnight stared in increasing dread at the folder's contents. At the picture of the blue pegasus that stared back at her confidently. At the bullet points that touted the pegasus' speed and prowess. And at the five digit payout for the winner that Bill had made sure to highlight and circle with a red pen.

She ran a hoof through her mane again. If she did that any more, she wasn't likely to have a mane for much longer. She looked back down at the notes contained within the folder. She'd read them enough to have memorized them. Former Element of Loyalty. Reserve Wonderbolt. Friend and adviser to HRH Twilight Sparkle. She'd read them so much she even knew the font—Palatino Ponytype, size fourteen—and she wasn't even a typographer.

She stared once more at the sum of bits. It was a lot. A lot. She could settle most of her remaining debts with that amount. She could damn near pay off her cottage with that amount. Her troubles would be over—for real this time. She wouldn't even be lured by Bill's promises of bits after this. It could be her last fight. And she'd have all those bits... She shook her head, “Now, Midnight. Don't be greedy. Don't let the shiny bits distract you.”

Because let's be real, all she'd have to do to get that sack of bits is defeat one of the most athletic ponies in the whole country. A pony that helped defeat every threat Equestria had faced in the last four years. A pony that could travel faster than any other and had been the first to do a sonic rainboom in centuries. That wouldn't be hard.

She snorted. Yeah, right. She might as well go buy a wringer, stick her tail into it now, and save Rainbow Dash the trouble. She stood up and paced around her cramped kitchen. Because, of course the fight would end like that. None of them had ended “normally.” They all had to involve such weird and convoluted endings she could write a memoir about it and everypony would think it was some bad fiction.

A sudden slamming noise caused her to jump up and her wings to flare out, “Dang it!” she looked over in annoyance at her oven. The door lay wide open against the floor. It was her parents old oven they had given her as a housewarming gift. She creaked out of the chair and slammed the oven door shut. The thing was ancient. Well over two decades old. The burners barely worked, the gauges were broke, and the door occasionally flew open due to the old hinges. She'd buy a new one, but she had much more pressing matters that needed those bits.

Satisfied that it wouldn't open again, she turned back to the table and from the corner of her eye, she saw a wilted leaf on one of the potted dumbcane's that sat on her counter slowly sag down farther, as if resigned to the fate its neglectful owner had sealed for it, “W-What?” she darted over and checked it's dry, cracked soil. How long had it been since she last watered them? She was sure she had just watered them. Bill had come over and—she winced—talked to her about fighting the turquoise-maned pony known as Speck.

That had been nearly a month ago. She hastily grabbed a pitcher from one of the bottom cabinets and started filling it with water from her kitchen tap. Had it really been that long? Was she so caught up fighting—and recovering from fighting—that she had neglected her dear, poor plants? Pitcher now full, she started to very carefully pour in the water into the clay pot. Too quickly, and the water would pool on the surface and not soak into the roots properly. She really should buy some of those glass watering bulbs she saw at the store.

She jerked the pitcher away from the pot. Really? Spend more money? Just like that? No wonder she had such money issues. She looked over from the now dark, saturated soil and at the other potted plants, “Midnight's sorry, you guys,” she started allocating the pitcher's contents to the lilies that sat on the windowsill above the sink, “She's just been really busy lately.”

She'd only be busier if she quit now. She'd have even less time for her plants and you could kiss the Gardening Garbonza goodbye. She'd be right back where she started. She still had a mortgage. Still would have bills to pay next month. And still couldn't make a living as a gardener in this Luna forsaken town. She glanced over at the table and chairs. Then, in six moons, she'd be sitting in that chair again, stare at a pile of bills again, and mutter hopelessly to herself again.

She shook her head, “I'll figure something out,” She always had before. It's not like she hadn't had money issues before the fighting league became her savior. She could do it again. She'd better, because there was no way in Equestria she was going to fight that pony. No way. Bill could beg and plead all he wanted. He could bring in a freighter full of bits. He could send her right to the Benefactors themselves. She wasn't going to do it.

She wasn't going to finally give herself financial security for the first time since she stupidly bought this dump she called a home. She poured the rest of the water into a row of daisies and dropped the pitcher down onto the counter. Is that what getting flattened, or compressed into a cube, or whatever it was that would inevitably befall her, was called? She looked over to the various potted plants, “Can't exactly enjoy a debt free life if I'm a doormat, now can I?”

They remained silent on the matter, no doubt recognizing it as a rhetorical question. But she could feel them staring at her. Questioning her. Was giving up now really the right thing to do? She'd defeated all her opponents before—even the mighty Captain of the Wonderbolts. Why would a weather pony from a small farming town be any different? Why was that where she drew the line and gave up any hope of getting out of all this debt?

Her face brightened somewhat as she sat back down and looked at the blue pony's picture. And it wasn't like she would be facing off against the entire Elements of Harmony. Just one lowly member—and not even a unicorn or alicorn princess at that. Was she really going to give up thirty thousand bits just because she was worried about losing? She hadn't had much of a concern about that when fighting Echo or Night Terror—and their payouts paled in comparison to this one.

Rainbow Dash wasn't even a member of the military—well, full member of the military. She'd probably have a better time fighting her then she would any of the ponies she'd faced so far. And there'd be no warehouses, or weather factories. Just the peaceful Daydream Park a mile away from her house to fight in. Who knows? It might be the easiest thirty thousand bits she'd ever make.

A small nagging voice in the back of her head whispered about greed. She shook her head to dismiss the thought. This wasn't greed. This was securing a future for herself. She looked over the newly watered plants that had soaked up most of the moisture their strange—not strange, eccentric—bat pony owner had gifted them. Herself, and her plants.

She walked over to her duffel bag that sat next to the front door and began rummaging through it. She had a fight to get ready for.

*********

“Well, well, well. You're Midnight Dream?” the light blue pegasus looked up from the glass bottle she held in her forehooves and eyed her as she leaned confidently against one of the park's gazebos.

Midnight glanced around as she approached the gazebo. It seemed the Benefactors connections extended into Hollow Shades' municipal government since the park had been closed because of “testing for possible military base runoff.” There wasn't a pony to be seen, save the rainbow-maned one that was staring at her. She stepped in a murky yellowish puddle. At least, she hoped it was actually the Benefactors that had closed it.

She sat her duffel bag down on one of the wooden benches that lined the brick path, “That I would be. And, since you're the only rainbow themed pegasus around, I take it you're Rainbow Dash,” Rainbow Dash. There was still a large part of her that couldn't believe she was about to fight her. She could still back out. There was no shame in it, even if there were no bits.

Dash smirked, “I see my reputation precedes me,” she idly looked back down at the bottle and examined it, “Not that that's surprising. Being undefeated and all.”

Midnight grabbed her water bottle from out of her duffel bag, “I'm undefeated, too. In fact, if memory serves, so is Captain-General Solar Eclipse,” At least she could take solace in the fact she was fighting Rainbow Dash and not the second in command of the Night Guard, “It's really not that impressive.”

Dash sat the bottle down on the wooden railing of the gazebo and looked at her, annoyance and maybe even a little frustration filtered through her expression, “Yeah, well have you defeated an admiral?”

The navy was in this, too? Was the fighting league nothing more than a cheap training program for Equestria's military? She took a satisfying gulp from the bottle of one hundred percent pure, unfiltered water, imported directly from the pristine, untouched, all natural lead pipes that were connected to her kitchen faucet, “Ah,” she looked over to the pegasus, “No, but I did defeat the Captain of the Wonderbolts.”

Dash's mouth fell open, “W-What?”

Midnight glanced back down at the crumpled plastic bottle. She really needed to dig out a replacement one from the basement one of these days, “Yup. Turned her in a couple days ago,” she smiled brightly, “I was able to pay off all my gardening tabs with the bits.” One less debt always brought a smile to her face.

The light blue pony shook her head in disbelief, “That's impossible. There's no way you could have defeated Spitfire. She's, like, one of the best there is,” she glared at the bat pony, “You're lying. A Wonderbolt wouldn't be defeated like that.”

She had seen the Wonderbolts track record when dealing with threats, right? They nearly tied the Royal Guard in incompetence—and that wasn't the nationalistic side of her talking, they genuinely weren't that great, “Honestly, the Wonderbolts aren't all they’re cracked up to be. They have just as bad of a record as the rest of the military. And Spitfire definitely lost. I turned her compressed body in myself. Why do you think they canceled their upcoming shows for the next month?”

Dash's glare intensified, “Of course you'd say that. You root for the Night Guard. And if you think you're really so much better than the best flight team in Equestria, I guess I'll just have to show you how wrong you are.”

With a heave and a sudden burst of wind that nearly knocked the gazebo over, Dash flew at Midnight. She sputtered and gagged on another drink of water before hastily screwing the bottle shut and tossing it into her duffel bag, “Woah, criminy!” she jumped out of the way, but Dash was too fast and just barely clipped her hind legs as she sped by. Midnight tumbled in the air before landing hard on the grass, which, judging by its needle-like appearance and Hollow Shades' need for shade tolerant grass, was probably creeping red fescue.

That reminded her. She needed to dethatch her lawn. She'd been putting it off due to the whole crippling debt and possible foreclosure, but with her debt load starting to lift, she could finally put some much needed investment in her gra—oh yeah. Dash pivoted around a tree and swooped back at the downed bat pony for another pass. Middle of a fight.

At the last second, she rolled out of the way of the pegasus just as she tried to grab her hooves. Midnight stood back up and looked at Dash as she once again turned sharply for another pass. She let out a frustrated sigh, “And we're back to strafing. Wonderful.” What was with pegasi and strafing? She looked around at the empty picnic tables and swings in the vain hope someone had left a shield lying around.

“What's the matter, Midnight? Can't deal with a few simple passes?” As if the lack of a shield weren't bad enough, Dash flapped her wings harder and sped up even more. She was now easily traveling at Midnight's top speed. Running wouldn't be much of an option this time. Midnight flexed her leathery wings and took off, speeding toward the wooded area that the park's bike path wound its way through. The more obstacles there were, the slower Dash would have to go.

“Already getting desperate? Come on, Midnight. I expected more of a challenge from somepony undefeated.” Dash slammed right into her side just as she was approaching the treeline, knocking the wind out of her. Unlike her previous opponents, however, Dash had grabbed onto her and held tight as she continued to fly away.

Midnight responded by punching and elbowing the pegasus several times. Dash winced but continued to hold firm, “There's some fighting. Here I thought you were just going to be passive while I set a record for the fasted fight in history,” Midnight paused in her attempts to free herself. What did that mean? Dash wasn't making much of an effort to end things.

She saw the wrought iron fence that marked the boundary of Daydream Park and the cobblestone surface of Starry Night Street fly by underneath them. If anything, Dash was dragging this fight out by taking it into the streets of Hollow Shad—

Without warning, Dash slammed Midnight into the brick wall of a nearby office building at full speed. Dash smirked as she and Midnight decelerated in a fraction of a second. All of her inertia had transferred into the soon to be paper thin bat pony. Midnight adsorbed the entirety of the impact. Spiderweb-like cracks in the brick and mortar shot out as Midnight sunk into the brick surface.

Dash flew back several feet to observe her handiwork, “Piece of cake,” These were definitely the easiest fights she'd ever done. It was amazing the fighting league didn't just give her the championship now and spare everyone the drawn out wait. The bat pony had been pressed into the brick wall and had tightly closed her amber eyes and grit he fanged teeth while her legs were splayed out.

Now all she had to do is peel Midnight's flattened body off the wall like a sticker and turn her in. Then she could collect the winnings and get ready for the semifinals. She flew up to start scraping her head off the brick surface. She didn't even need Twilight's help for th—Midnight suddenly opened her eyes, peeled one of her most definitely still three dimensional forehooves off the brick, and punched Dash squarely in the muzzle.

“Youch!” Dash jolted back, rubbing her nose and jaw. She looked up from her hooves to see Midnight detaching herself from the indentation she had made in the brick. Dust and bits of brick were knocked off and crumbled to the sidewalk below as she stumbled back into the air and shakily hovered in place.

Midnight let out several ragged pants. That had hurt. Quite a bit. She'd be lucky if she woke up tomorrow and was only covered in bruises. She looked back at the bat pony shaped indentation in the building's facade. Somehow, she had escaped a similar fate to Spitfire or Night Terror. She wasn't sure how, but she had.

Dash stared slack jawed at the hovering, fully three dimensional bat pony, “H-How? That should have squashed you flat just like it did with Cloud Kicker!”

Midnight shrugged, “Guess us bat ponies are just more resilient than pegasi,” she had no idea who Cloud Kicker was, but, given the name, she was almost certain it was a pegasus. And given the angry scowl on Rainbow Dash's face, she'd hazard her guess was right.

Dash took several calming breaths, “Well then, I guess I'll just have to try it again.” she lunged at Midnight, who instinctively flapped backward, only to hit the indentation she had made in the brick. She winced in pain and rubbed her shoulder. After that attempt to turn her into a cardboard cutout, she really needed some time to recuperate.

She did a somersault in the air just as Dash was reaching her and managed to kick the pegasus right in the chin. Dash flipped several times before righting herself and rubbed he now even sorer jaw. That bat pony wasn't making this fight as easy as she had first thought, that was for sure. Dash smiled slightly when she saw how Midnight winced and struggled to maintain a steady height in the air. She may not have flattened her out, but that hit had made her much weaker.

Attacking the bat pony head on would likely only yield another sore jaw. She had to dawn her inner egghead and strategize a little. She shot away from Midnight and ducked down First Street, leaving only a streak of rainbow in her wake. Midnight relaxed and started to sag toward the ground. Her wings and back were killing her. Of course Rainbow Dash was coming back, but it at least gave her a moment's rest.

She landed onto the stone sidewalk with a heave and looked over at the building next to her. Bicycles and wheels decorated the window of the small storefront. A bright red awning hung overhead the store. Midnight shook her head and stretched her sore wings. Taking this fight indoors was her best bet, just like it had been with Spitfire. Although a bike shop probably wasn't ideal.

A blue blur cut around the corner of the building. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to work. Midnight scrambled for the store's door, only to bang right into it. A piece of blue construction paper was taped to its glass surface. Midnight squinted her eyes. Dark blue marker on blue paper was a really bad choice, “Sorry, closed today due to military base runoff testing. Open tomorrow,” Midnight stomped a hoof, “You've got to be kidding meeeeee!”

Dash grabbed hold of her and yanked her into the air, “It's really nice of you to just sit there and wait for me,” Midnight once more struggled to land some punches on the pegasus. She was tempted to go for Dash's wings but a brief vision of careening uncontrollably into the cobblestone street at mach two dissuaded that thought. Instead, she kicked at the pegasus' hooves and chest.

Dash looked around as she flew around the perimeter of Daydream Park, “Now, where's a good place t—ow! Knock it off will ya,” she punched Midnight several times in the ribs, “Can't a mare figure out a nice way to end this thing in peace?” Her eye caught a granite monument inside the park and her face brightened, “Ah, there we go.”

Midnight turned her head around when Dash suddenly changed direction to see where the pegasus was carrying her. They were making a beeline for the Pastry War Memorial. The dark granite block was etched with the names of those in the Night Guard that had died tragically during the bloody conflict—or so that's what the townsfolk would tell tourists.

It wasn't so much a war as it was Princess Celestia going on one her fad diets and it wasn't so much bloody as it was her getting uppity when she realized her pastries were considered carbs and thus not allowed. And it fell to the Night Guard to “extract” the cakes and pies that were behind enemy lines. Then the infamous “Black Hot Fudge Down” incident happened and the next thing they knew, Parliament had allocated three million bits for a memorial.

They were heading straight for it. Granite was much harder than brick and mortar and it was unlikely Midnight's body would make much of an indentation in its hard surface. But all that inertia had to go somewhere. She was already sore, she didn't need to add being flat to the list as well. If she didn't figure out a way out this—and within the next few seconds—it was likely there'd be a new bat pony poster added to the memorial. She gulped.

Dash smirked at her fear and sped up as the gazebo rushed by them in a blur, “Don't worry, Midnight. I'm sure you'll do fine. It'll all be over soon enough. You can take a break and enjoy life as a poster while I move on and become champion.”

Just as they were about to hit, Midnight tried to throw her weight abruptly to one side and fling Dash around so she took the brunt of the impact, but the pegasus was able to react fast enough to counter any attempts by the bat pony at sabotaging her ramming strategy. Midnight braced herself as the duo slammed into the hard granite surface of the monument.

Due to the memorial's short, stubby nature, Dash had hit it at an angle and ricocheted off, after she pressed herself into Midnight's soft underbelly. Dash skipped across the ground several times before coming to a rest. She shakily stood up and shook her head, “Wow. That had a lot more power than I thought it did.” It seemed she had underestimated just how hard granite was.

After she stretched out and cracked a few bones and joints, she looked over to the memorial and the sure to be flat bat pony that was no doubt now stuck to it. Wait. That couldn't be. She rubbed her eyes several times. It just wasn't possible. She jumped into the air and flew over to the granite rectangle, “How can you still be 3-D after that?!”

Midnight was lying in a heap at the base of the memorial. She was slumped against it with her wings and legs sprawled out, a glazed over look in her eyes, “Owwwhhhhh,” she put a hoof to her head and try and calm the growing pains that had started to filter in. After a few moments, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, before checking to make sure she was indeed still just as three dimensional as the blue pegasus was claiming.

She wobbled dizzily to her hooves. She was just as surprised by her continued third dimensionality as Rainbow Dash was. It had taken everything she had to stop from learning what it was like to be pressed into a poster. Her disoriented vision focused on Dash, who had flown back over to the gazebo.

“You may be able to absorb my impacts without getting squashed flat, but I have an ace up my sleeve.” Dash flew through the gazebo and snagged the thirty-two ounce glass cola bottle from the railing she had put it on. Midnight shook her head of the cobwebs and looked at the bottle more clearly. The clear bottle was devoid of any stickers or labels and had a faint, ominous purple glow around it. In place of a cap, a cork was snugly fastened to the bottle's mouth.

“These bottles have given me an edge in some of the more... challenging fights.” Dash landed and walked toward Midnight, bottle in hoof, “Of course, a champion like me doesn't need an edge. It just makes things a little quicker—you know, for the fans. I've bottled Lightning with this—” Dash thought back to her previous fight and the teal mare she had defeated, “—and I think you'll find it just as accommodating as she did.”

Dash uncorked the bottle and pointed its open end at Midnight. Midnight tensed her body in anticipation and stared at the bottle. Who knew what Rainbow Dash was planning. She needed to be incredibly wary and make sure not to fall for any tricks. Dash was probably just using that bottle as a distraction to whatever she was going to do. She should probably take the bottle, just to make sure Dash couldn't use it.

Dash smiled as the alicorn-enchanted bottle began to take effect. Midnight's pupils dilated and her body completely relaxed. Her amber eyes glowed with a purple aura. She smiled softly as she continued to stare into the bottle.

The bottle was really nice, after all. It deserved every bit of attention Midnight was giving it. Once she had taken it from Dash, she could examine it closer. In fact, she needed to look at it closer. Much closer. The inside of the bottle deserved the most attention. It was just so perfectly formed and shaped. Just looking at it wouldn't be enough—she knew she needed to actually be as close to it as possible. She needed to somehow get inside the bottle.

She'd have to cram herself into it. It couldn't be that hard? If she could compress Spitfire into a brick and squash Night Terror into a cape then surely she could stuff herself into a really good looking bottle. She'd have to start with her head and use her powerful forelegs to stuff her muzzle and face into the bottle's opening.

Once her head was tightly compacted down into the welcoming confines of the bottle, she could then position herself under a bench and use her rear legs to force her upper body and wings into joining her squashed head inside the bottle. It'd be tight and maybe even a little hot and stuffy, but she was confident her athletic body would be up for the task.

Then, she'd need some help. Her forelegs and bat wings would be compressed tightly into the bottle and so would be worthless. Rainbow Dash was a nice pony. She was even an Element of Harmony. Surely she wouldn't mind lending her a hoof and squeezing and compressing her hindlegs and tail into the bottle so her whole body could be crushed into it? Once Dash had finished helping, she'd be crammed into the small bottle. She most likely wouldn't be able to move and it would probably be a little cramped for the first few days—a week or two tops—but it was worth it to be as close to the bottle as possible.

Plan now in mind, Midnight started slowly walking toward Dash and the bottle. Dash chuckled at the bat pony's efforts. Just as Midnight was within a couple of yards, Dash lifted up the bottle and stuffed the cork back into the bottle's mouth. Midnight's eyes returned to normal and she shook her head to clear it, “Don't you see, Midnight? I've won regardless. You get squashed like a pancake, or get forcibly bottled—either way, I'm coming out of this with a win.”

Midnight looked from Dash to the bottle. She couldn't believe what she had almost done. She'd almost handed Dash the victory by willingly crushing herself into a stupid bottle. She didn't even like soda pop. Whatever enchantment Rainbow was using, it was powerful enough to override her common sense. She'd now have to avoid not only Dash's speed, but also her enchantments. Midnight gulped. Dash was probably right—she likely wouldn't get out of this fight without losing something, whether that be her third dimension or her mobility.

Dash walked back over to the gazebo and sat the bottle down on its railing before she flew into the air and charged at Midnight, “Time to give this one more try before I resort to using the bottle,” Midnight braced herself as Dash tackled her, “I can't flatten you with my speed, but maybe I can with my hooves.” The two rolled around for a minute, each one trying to grapple the other and gain the advantage.

Dash was finally able to pin Midnight to the grass and perch herself on top of the tired bat pony. She immediately started to punch away at Midnight's gray fur, trying to soften and eventually flatten her aching muscles into a nice thin layer. Midnight knew she had to act fast. If she didn't, she'd squashed down like of dough. Not only would Dash's efforts eventually succeed, but if she didn't do something quick, Dash could hit her face and knock her out—then the blue mare would be free to do as she pleased with Midnight's body. She'd probably wake up squashed flat and flapping about on top of a flagpole.

While Dash was too focused on trying to crush her chest, Midnight looked around for anything that might help her get an advantage in the increasingly grim looking fight. Her and her stupid greed. She looked to her side and saw the stained wood of the gazebo only a foot or two away. Somehow in all that grappling, they had landed right next to it. Maybe she could knock Dash into it and daze her.

She struggled anew, but it was no use. Dash had been clever enough to lock Midnight's hooves underneath her and use the combination of her weight, tail, and rear hooves to securely press them against the soft grassy ground. Dash rewarded her struggles with a several punches to her tender belly, causing Midnight to grimace in pain.

Dash paused for a moment to catch her breath, “Phew. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Maybe I should just get the bottle and get this over with already.”

Midnight looked up at the pony in alarm. That would definitely be the end. She didn't want to spend Luna knows how long trapped inside a tiny space. Dash smirked at the panic, “Oh now, don't worry. The enchantment only lasts a year or two—I can't remember. I wasn't really paying attention when Twilight gave me the two hundred pages of notes on the thing. The point is, you'd be free in no time.”

“What?!” A year? Trapped in a bottle? What kind of forbidden magic were they doing in Ponyville?! She started to struggle again in response when one of her wings popped out from behind her back. Dash had secured her legs, but not her wings. Fat lot of good that did. Maybe she could lightly tap the pegasus on her flank with the edge of her wing.

She looked back over to the gazebo. She could reach it with her freed wing. If she could grab hold, maybe she'd be able to yank Dash over to it and stun her. She started looking for a spot to grab onto when something glared in her eye, causing her to squint. Of all the times for Hollow Shades to not live up to its name, it had to be now.

She looked up and her jaw nearly dropped. Good thing she was able to reel in her shock, or else she might have alerted Rainbow Dash to the glass bottle that sat atop the railing above them. A railing that was fairly weak and loose thanks to years of use and a cheapskate city beautification department. She glanced back down at her wing. New plan. One that was probably going to hurt.

Dash had continued to pummel away at the helpless bat pony, focusing most of her attention of Midnight's hind legs and flanks. Once she was able to flatten out the pony's limbs, she wouldn't have to worry about this really uncomfortable pin she was having to do. Sure she could use the bottle, but there was just more fun in taking a hooves-on approach. Plus, she didn't have to share the credit with Twilight if she did it all herself. The last thing she wanted was an asterisk on her championship trophy.

Midnight bit her lip and slammed the wing against the gazebo's rickety wall as hard as she could. Her eyes started watering. Oh, Luna, did that hurt. Wings were some of the most sensitive parts of the body. She did it again and saw the bottle wobble back and forth on its perch as the railing shook from the blow. She could feel her flank slowly being squashed down with each blow. Dash was starting to make progress and Midnight knew if this didn't work, she'd be slowly flattened out over the course of several hours.

She slammed her wing against the wood for a third time and the bottle tilted over into the gazebo. Oh, Cadance—she wasn't even sure if that was a proper expletive—not like this. If it fell into the gazebo, she was screwed. Completely, unequivocally screwed. And flattened. Or compressed into a bottle. One or the other.

She hit the gazebo again just as the bottle wobbled back toward her. Dash looked over at her free wing, “I'll give you credit for trying everything you can to escape, although I'm not sure how hitting your wing against the railing's supposed to hel—ah!”

The bottle fell from the railing and hit Dash square on her head before it rolled onto the grass beside the duo. Dash jumped up momentarily, stunned by the impact, and rubbed her head. It was just enough of a distraction for Midnight to free a trapped forehoof from underneath her and grab the bottle. She uncorked it with her teeth and pointed it at Dash's wincing face. Dash growled and looked down at the still partially pinned mare, “I don't know how you did that but it—” she looked right into the bottle, “Wha-What?” she squeaked.

Midnight couldn't help but smile as terror filled Dash's face, “Amateurs always forget about the wings.”

“No, Midnight! Y-You foal! W-What have you done!?” Dash stared down into the bottle, which glowed with the menacing purple aura, “The bottle! I-It—It—” Dash smiled as the terror melted off her face. She took a deep breath as the tension left her body and her pupils dilated, “It looks really nice.” Dash grabbed the bottle from Midnight's hoof and stepped off from on top of her. Midnight looked over at the entranced mare and saw Dash's eyes now glowing with the purple aura.

Dash stared contently inside the bottle for several moments, “It looks really cool. But, you know, it would probably look even cooler from the inside.” Midnight stared in satisfaction as Dash stuck her muzzle in the bottle's narrow opening. Pushing and twisting the bottle with one hoof, she used her free hoof to press and shove at her head until, with a resounding popping noise, her entire head had been crammed into the tight confines of the bottle.

“Urrrggghh.” Dash groaned from inside the bottle. Her muzzle was at the very bottom of the bottle. Her teeth were gritted in seeming discomfort while her eyes looked around dizzily from either side of the bottle. Dash's head and neck were fully smashed into the bottle, with only a few strands of her rainbow mane sticking out from the bottle's mouth.

With her head now inside of the bottle, Dash let go of the bottle. She looked around in a daze for a moment, before she took off with a flap of her wings and started to ascend higher and higher into the sky. Midnight decided to take the opportunity to rest for a short while. There wasn't a part of her that wasn't in pain. Her wing hurt more than it had ever before. She'd be lucky if she hadn't broken it in her desperation.

The fight wasn't technically over, but Midnight had experienced first hoof the power of the enchanted bottle. She knew Dash was going to end the fight for her. She wouldn't have to lift a hoof. Thank Luna. She smiled and stretched out her sore limbs as she wondered how long it would take Rainbow Dash to wrap things up so she could get paid.

She got her answer a few minutes later as she saw a blue streak barreling toward the ground. Dash's speed was incredible, with a condensation cone forming around the partially bottled mare. Midnight had a good idea of what Dash was doing and so decided to fly a short distance away to observe. Better to err on the side of caution than risk getting pancaked. A jolt of pain shot up her back from her wing as she started to flap it. You know, walking was so much more relaxing.

A few hundred yards away, Midnight sat down at a park bench and watched the pegasus continue her rapid descent. Traveling at near sonic rainboom speeds, Dash made no effort to pull up from her dive and instead hit the ground bottle-first. The impact kicked up a large dust cloud. Midnight couldn't tell whether Dash was lucky or unlucky she had impacted the park's hoofball field and not on the nearby stone path.

Once the dust and debris had settled. Midnight got up from the bench and walked over to the twenty foot deep crater Dash had created. In the middle of the crater was a thirty-two ounce bottle packed full of pegasus. Most of the mare had been crushed into the bottle from the force of the impact. Dash's face was now firmly pressed into the bottom of the bottle, with one eye dimly open and glowing with a purple hue and the other tightly squeezed shut. The blue mare's mane was pressed neatly against the base of the bottle while her forelegs were squashed against the sides of the bottle and extended down most of the bottle's length, stopping just short of her compressed cutie mark. Her wings were folded and compacted just like the rest of her body.

While the impact had compressed most of Dash's athletic body into the bottle, it hadn't fully done it. The tips of her rear hooves and most of her tail stuck out from the bottle's opening, while the rest of Dash's hindlegs and flank were squeezed into the bottle's neck.

“Oooouuuuggggghhhhhh.” she moaned softly from inside the bottle. Midnight picked up the nearly fully bottled mare and carefully walked out of the crater and back over to the park bench. In the time it took Midnight to return to the bench, Dash had regained some of her composure. She looked over with her one eye that was open to the mare that held her, “H-Hey, Midnight Dream—ouch.”

Midnight looked at the crunched mare, “Yeah?”

“D-Do you—ugh—mind doing me a huge favor?”

Midnight smirked and glanced at the part of the pony that was sticking out of the bottle and then back down at Dash's purple hued eye. She had a pretty good idea of what the squashed mare was going to ask her, “That depends on the favor.”

“Could you push my hooves and tail into the bottle?” Dash weakly wiggled her rear hooves, “The bottle's really—auuuuhhhh—really good, but I need my whole body to be inside it, you know? Y-You don't have to worry about hurting me.” Dash whimpered before continuing, “I'm fine. Pegasi are really tough.”

“Of course, Rainbow Dash. Anything for Equestria's greatest pegasus.” Midnight firmly held the bottle with one hoof and put her other hoof on Dash's rear hooves. She heard the mare squeak as she started to press down hard. Dash was already pretty compressed, so it was a struggle getting the last of the mare into the bottle. Midnight locked the bottle against her armpit with her elbow to get it more secured before she crammed and squashed at Dash's legs.

After several minutes of exhaustive work, the hooves and tail disappeared into the bottle's neck. Midnight held the fully bottled mare up in triumph at her astonishing victory over Equestria's fastest pony. She looked in admiration at the compacted pony and couldn't help but feel relieved Dash had cockily overestimated herself and not simply allowed Midnight to bottle herself, “All done.”

“Uuuuaaaaagggghhhhh,” Dash moaned out.

“I'll take that as a 'thank you'.” Midnight glanced at the road and was shocked to see the bottle's cork laying in the middle of the street where they had fought. She walked over and slammed the cork into the bottle, sealing Dash inside. A couple strands of the mare's rainbow tail stuck out from around the cork. Midnight placed the bottle in her mouth and walked away from the fight scene, “Now to get you to the league office so I can get paid.” And never have to worry about bits again.

Dash merely sighed in content at finally being fully bottled.

End of Chapter Six

Author's Note

I decided to mix things up a bit and bring in some related, but not-quite-the-same fetishes to flattening. Hypnosis and body compression—what a combination.

I was originally going to use Lightning Dust instead of Rainbow Dash, so I could make a better “bottled lightning” joke, but using Dash allows an easy excuse for the bottle's enchantment in the form of Twilight—who ended up being critical to the rest of the “plot.” Plus, I like the way Dash looks more than Lightning Dust, and this is a clopfic after all... On the downside, Dash's personality isn't that great.

Midnight vs. Garbonza

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter Seven: Midnight vs. Garbonza

Midnight finished squirting the store brand glass cleaner onto the table's surface. She looked up. She was no weather pony, but it looked to be a very nice day. It was a good thing thing she opted for the tent. It was an even better thing the tent was free. The sun was out in full force—it seemed the weather patrol had wanted a hot spring day for once—and wouldn't be letting Hollow Shades live up to its sunless reputation.

She grabbed a cloth and went to work cleaning off her table. Today was the day she most looked forward to—Saturday. Not just because it was the weekend. Not just because she had just been able to cash the check from the Dash fight before the bank closed. Not just because her defeat of the undefeated pegasus would allow her to make five year's worth of payments for her cottage. No, it was because today was the Gardening Garbonza.

She sighed contently as she scrubbed down the table. She had waited all month for Hollow Shades' premiere gardening event—well, only gardening event. She looked up at the many booths and tents that lined the narrow brick road. Arts and crafts, food, an old timey blacksmith, more food. If she were being honest, despite its name, it really had little to do with gardening. It hadn't been about gardening for decades.

She squirted some more of the cleaner on the table. That didn't matter. She still had her little booth. And there were a couple others who still ensured the Garbonza lived up to its name. Air Raid with his flower pots. And Desert Storm had the widest selection of cacti she'd ever seen. There were also the dozen or so fruit stands that dotted the street, but that didn't surprise her at all.

There was just something special about fruit. Maybe it was because of the taste, or the fact that it enabled her to mimic the sensations of blood sucking—even if they were a shallow imitation of the real thing—or it could even be just an instinctual drive for the nutrients due to bat ponies being more susceptible to illness due to their genes.

Whatever it was, bat ponies loved their fruits. She preferred watermelon herself. There was nothing better—on second thought, after the Night Terror fight, make that “only one thing better”—than sitting back in her wooden rocking chair on a hot summer day and plunging her fangs through the plump green rind to reach the ice cold sloshly goodness that lay underneath.

She looked down and smiled as she admired how clean the table was. Presentation was everything and having a dirty table could dissuade customers. And she would have customers. Bat ponies loved their fruits after all, and she just happened to be one of the only ponies in town that could give them a cheap, near unlimited supply right in their backyard. She cast a glance back at the wagon that was the temporary home to the tomato and strawberry seedlings she had cared tenderly for.

Her smile faltered a little. While pretty much anything a plant produced that was designed to distribute seeds could be called a “fruit,” the kind of fruits bat ponies liked—mangos, oranges, kiwis—were all very much tropical. That orange-colored flower on her butt may mean she could garden like nopony else, but it didn't mean she could turn Hollow Shades from a damp, cold temperate town into a tropical paradise.

The market for tomato and strawberry seedlings just wasn't that strong. Certainly not strong enough to make a living on. She could always move to Saddle Arabia and join some of the expats. Then she could grow mangos to her heart's content and make a healthy living. It was certainly a thought. One she'd have to do some research into. Didn't want to make the same mistake twice and buy a house somewhere without ensuring a steady income.

She picked up a watering can and started dosing the dozens of strawberry seedlings that were neatly lined up in rows in the wagon in the cute little plastic trays she had packed them in. She furrowed her brow as she looked at the little shoots that poked out of the now damp dirt. Strawberries were a little finicky. The soil ph had to be right, you had to give them room to grow, and worst of all, if you wanted really good strawberries, you had to make sure they didn't fruit the first year so they could grow big and strong.

She sat the now much lighter can down and checked to make sure all the plants had gotten their share of water. She had tried raspberries last month, but there hadn't been that much demand. She only just broke even. Maybe the slightly more difficult strawberries would do better. All the plants were watered. That was good. She looked up at the many tents and tables that lined the road. Various bat ponies were busy taping up signs, arranging their wares on the tables, or prepping their fryers and grills for the hungry masses that would soon flood Night Shade Street.

None of them were selling plants. Even Desert Storm had expanded from just selling cacti into a wide range of desert-themed items, from rocks to earthen pots. She had the suspicion he'd eventually drop the cacti altogether. She placed down the last of the strawberries and moved on to the tomato seedlings. As much as bat ponies loved their fruits, they seemed more than willing to just go to the store to buy them. Why bother watering, picking, weeding, and waiting for the fruits to grow when you can just go to the store and get it now? No hassle?

The Gardening Garbonza was losing its namesake. She looked over at the small metal box she used to store her earnings. The last two Garbonzas hadn't made her much, but if she were honest, it wasn't the money she cared about—surprising as that may be. It was the ponies she talked to. Talking about plants, how to grow them, tips about the best fertilizer, news on the latest apple blight and how to stop it. Even if demand for new fruit plants was down, there were still plenty of bat pony growers out there. Not every plant was an annual, after all. Throughout the month, she never was able to make good use of her special talent, but the last Saturday of the month was the day that orange flower on her butt seemed to sparkle and shine.

But now, as she stared at the distinct lack of gardening tents and the trickle of customers, she could see that Hollow Shades wouldn't be needing her special talent for much longer. Those growers had plenty of earth pony gardening books to read. And it was likely the Garbonza would be renamed to something more “accurate” in a few months—she was already hearing rumors it would be called the Hollow Shades Art Fair. Maybe she should leave when it was renamed. By then, most of her debts would be settled, and there was always some returning Night Guardpony looking to settle down in the town. Selling her cottage would be easy.

But that was for the future. Right now she had a potted plant stand to finish setting up. With the table clean, she picked up a couple small wicker baskets and sat them on the table, before placing her hoof crafted, artisan cardboard marker signs against each one. “Tomato seedlings: ѣ1.00 a piece.” “Strawberry seedlings: ѣ1.50 a piece.” and the grand prize, her beloved Mr. Tree, “Apple tree: ѣ100.00” Midnight looked at the signs. That was the right bit sign, wasn't it? She couldn't remember. After looking at her bills so much, she had blocked out any monetary symbols.

Signs in place, she walked to the other side of the tent and looked over her potted plants she had wheeled in on her wagon. She glanced to each side to make sure there was nopony nearby before she started stroking the potted tomato plant's leaves, “Hey there. How's it going today? I know it was a little rough getting here, but now you're here for the day and ready to go to a new home,” she gently brushed some of the small yellow flowers with a hoof, “Don't worry. You'll have a ton of fun in your new home. There'll be plenty of dirt, and water, and bees. Middy has to say goodbye, but she hopes you won't forget her,” The tomato plant remained tied to the wooden stake that was secured in the pot and showed no signs of acknowledging the crazed bat pony who was talking to it.

Crazed? Who said she was crazed? Talking to plants was perfectly sound. The carbon dioxide released helps them grow and the vibrations do... stuff too that makes sure they're green and happy and not at all anxious about being abandoned by their only moth—Midnight shook her head to clear the crazed thought and picked up several of the small potted tomato plants. She gently placed them on the table. She turned to the even smaller strawberry plants that sat next to the tomatoes spot in the cart. The strawberries would be the worst letting go. They were so fragile and small. One wrong step or careless move of the lawn mower and they'd be gone forever.

“Hey, Midnight, how's it going today?” She turned around from fiddling with the strawberries and saw Tower Defense leaning his filthy hooves against her clean table. The dark gray stallion ran a booth devoted to oil paintings. He was also a Colonel in the Night Guard, but then again, pretty much every bat pony in Hollow Shades held some rank within the Night Guard.

“Hey, Tower. It's going okay. Still under mountains of crushing debt, but I'm slowly but surely clawing my way out of it,” she picked up the tomato plants and carefully placed them in their section of the table.

“Ah, yes. That fighting outfit you've been in. I heard through the military grapevine you really screwed with the Wonderbolts. Taking out their Captain of the Guard is no small feat,” he smiled, “Thanks for that, by the way. Knocking down the Blunderbolts a peg or two always brings a smile to my face.”

Midnight rolled her eyes. Interservice rivalry. The pettiest of disputes, “Sure, Tower. You're welcome,” all that sarcasm practice on Bill was really paying off.

“It really is impressive, you know,” he pretended to hold an interest in her tomato seedlings, “Captain Borealis has his eye on you,” Midnight shot the bat pony a look. He snorted, “You know what I mean. After all this fighting you've been doing—and all this winning—you'd be a shoe-in for an officer. Tartarus, you might even hop a couple ranks. You'd be tending Luna's gardens in no time.”

Not this again, “No, what I'd do is get killed trying to defend one of the princesses or something. I'd just be another filler soldier,” It'd be a horrible death, too. Guards never died peacefully. It was always screaming in terror as the tentacle monster from another dimension drags them away or as Princess Twilight's necromantic magic reanimates a corpse.

It was Tower's turn to roll his eyes, “You read too many cheap novels, Midnight. We're mostly intelligence. Listening posts, high altitude flyovers,” he coughed and quickly mumbled, “capturingeverypony'sdreamsinadatabasetoanalyze—that sort of thing. You're gardening skills would come in really handy. Especially with all those vine incursions we've had recently.”

He was like a broken record that constantly repeated the same thing, “I told you 'no' two years ago and I'm telling you no now. I don't want to be involved with the Night Guard. I want to do something other than what my parents, and their parents, and—Luna, above—the entire bat pony species has done.”

He looked at her, “But do you want to make a living? Following your dreams is great, but sometimes dreams have to take a backseat to reality. I told you that two years ago, and I'm telling you again. Just think about it, Midnight. You're building up quite the portfolio whether you realize it or not and I'd hate for you to let it all go to waste,” he waved at her as he departed her table, “I'll see you around.”

“See ya, Tower,” she mumbled back. She knew he meant well, but why did he have to constantly try to lead her into the Night Guard? There was more to bat ponies than the military, just as there was more to earth ponies than farming. It was like she was the only bat pony in the world that saw that.

Shaking her head to rid it of Tower's words, she walked over to the potted apple tree that sat in the back of the wagon and hoisted it up. It was her crown jewel for this month's Garbonza. Mr. Tree, with his tough exterior and go get em personality was sure to please. Apple trees were always her best seller. It was, after all, as close to a mango as she could get. Last time, Mr. Stick was the first thing she sold. Bat ponies just couldn't get enough apples it seemed. Those apple growers out west must be rolling in bits. They probably never had to worry about money.

If she could just grow apple trees for a living, she'd be set—at least until the bat pony market was saturated, anyway. If only she had more land. That cottage wasn't just small as an aesthetic choice. She barely had enough room for her landscaping, let alone the plants she grew for the Garbonza. But land cost money and that was something she obviously didn't have.

The pot was carefully lowered to the side of the table. She'd just have to make due growing apple trees every once in awhile. She next grabbed the watering tin from off her cart and quickly sprinkled the plants to ensure they glistened brightly in the sunlight and their soil was rich and dark in color. Mr. Tree needed to look his best.

“Midnight, you see what Baby Back's up to?” she looked over at the tent next to her's and the purple mare within it.

“No, I haven't. What's he up to now?” It was good seeing Star Chart and the quaint birdhouses she sold. How somepony could make such finely detailed miniature thatched roofs continued to baffle and amaze her.

The purple bat pony looked around for witnesses before leaning over one of her tables and toward Midnight, “You didn't hear it from me, but word on the street is he's going to be using real meat this month,” she squeaked in horror or possibly glee, Midnight wasn't quite sure which, “Can you believe it?”

Baby Back's (Substitute) Pulled Pork Sandwiches were always a hit at the Garbonza, but he had been facing some stiff competition as of late. First there was Sour Patch with her smoothies, then Lemon Squeeze and his lemonade. Nopony thought Head Lettuce's salad bar would be so successful that it needed a third tent. Perhaps Baby Back had gotten desperate enough to use real meat.

Real, delicious meat. It made Midnight salivate and smack her chops. Like vampirism, carnivorism was one of those taboos nopony talked about. The Soylent Corporation had tried to mimic the texture and taste, but substitutes can never fully compare to the original—or else they wouldn't really be called substitutes, now would they?

“Surely not. You think he'd actually go through with it?” She'd have to sneak one. There's no way she could let Star Chart see. That pony wasn't the best at keeping secrets and tended to flap her lips. Rumors about her eating an opponent would be halfway to Canterlot before she had even finished the sandwich.

“Absolutely. I knew that pony wasn't right—I knew it. You know what he does when these Garbonzas are over?” Once Star got going, you couldn't stop her. It was best to just let her run herself out. She could only gossip so long.

“Huh?”

“He eats the leftovers himself,” she hastily looked around once more to check and see if anyone was eavesdropping, “I bet you—go ahead and write it down—I bet you that he's just been waiting for the day when he could eat real meat. I'm telling you it's all just been an elaborate ruse.”

Midnight was never more thankful that Star hadn't been keeping up with her fights. All those bits. All those weird endings. The vampirism. Star Chart would have months worth of gossip about her. By the end of it, she'd probably be the avatar of Nightmare Moon plotting to take over Equestria, “Well, you'll just have to keep an eye on him then.”

“I will, won't I? Luna only knows the Organizing Committee won't lift a hoof about it. They're too worried about renaming the Garbonza,” the faint chip of a cuckoo clock caused both ponies' ears to perk, “Oh my!” Star rushed over to one of her birdhouses and peered into it through a small window at the clock inside, “It's seven-thirty and I still haven't finished installing the carpeting.”

She hastily grabbed a pair of high magnification goggles and a small pair of tweezers from inside a toolbox on the ground, “I'm really sorry, Midnight, but I have to finish the foyer. Can't have the little birdies getting their footsies cold on wood floors when they walk in.”

“Alright, I'll talk to you later, Star,” Midnight walked over to her wagon. It was seven-thirty already? Time really does fly when you're actually using your special talent. She needed to finish getting ready before customers started arriving.

*******

“No, thank you,” Midnight waved at the white pegasus as he carried away the tomato seedlings that would become the cornerstone to his garden. She opened her small metal lockbox and deposited the hooffull of bits into it. Tomatoes always sold well. They were like the blue chip of gardening. It helped they were pretty easy to grow. A little fertilizer, some ladybugs to keep the aphids away, plenty of water, and boom—enough tomatoes to can a year's worth of salsa.

She walked back over to the table. Almost half the tomato seedlings were gone. She rearranged them to cover any bald spots on the table. The strawberry seedlings had done well, too. Much better than the raspberries did last month. Maybe all that doom and gloom talk about the Garbonza had been her pessimism seeping through. She looked over at Mr. Tree, who still sat just off to the right of the table of seedlings.

Poor, Mr. Tree. Nopony had shown much interest in him despite him being a lucrative apple tree. Perhaps she had overestimated the apple tree market? She'd sold plenty of them over the years—Mr. Stick, Mrs. Reddy, Miss Yellow—and maybe nopony wanted apple trees anymore. She might have to start growing pear trees.

But she'd never say that in front of Mr. Tree. He already had self esteem issues and this would only make it worse. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he was wilting in depression from the lack of interest. He needed support right now, not her plotting on what tree species (or cultivar) she would be growing next.

She glanced around. Star Chart was busy trying to lure a couple into buying one of her colonial-style birdhouses and the tent to her right was vacant for this month's Garbonza. Nopony seemed to be approaching her. She reached over and gently stroked Mr. Tree's leaves, “Don't worry, Mr. Tree. You'll find the perfect match. I'm sure of it. You just have to be patient. These things can ta—” She jerked away from the tree when she saw a group of teen bat ponies wander by.

Mr. Tree seemed to be encouraged by the brief pep talk. His leaves were now a bright green as opposed to the harlequin they had been previously. He was no longer sagging either. She glanced back at the small clock she had leaning up against her wagon. Ten o'clock. She really hoped somepony would come along soon and give Mr. Tree a loving home. He'd be just devastated if she had to wheel him back to her cottage.

“Hey, there, Midnight! Whatcha sellin' this month?”

Midnight looked over at the dark blue bat pony that giddily hopped in front of her table. The pony wore a hoofball cap with the Night Guard's logo on it and had some sort of slushy beverage gripped with one of her leathery wings, “Hi, Moonbeam. This month, I'm selling the standard tomato affair, with strawberries and my pride and joy, Mr. Tree.”

Normally, she'd never dare discuss Mr. Tree directly with a customer, but she knew Moonbeam well enough to know she understood the bond she had developed with the apple sapling. Moonbeam took a long, drawn-out slurp from her drink as she inspected the tomato and strawberry plants, “Wow, strawberries, huh?” she leaned over the table and poked Midnight's chest with her free wing, “I guess the raspberries weren't working out, were they?”

Midnight's ears drooped down a little, “Well, no, they kind of weren't. But the strawberries are doing better this time around.”

“I bet,” Moonbeam stuck her snout right into one of the dainty plants, “Strawberries are just sooooo good! I'm even drinking a strawberry—and banana—smoothie right now. Speaking of,” she took another long slurp of her smoothie, “Ah,” she smacked her lips, “That's the stuff. Nothin' like it.” she looked over at the drink, “When I found out Sour Patch was having happy hour I just couldn't resist.”

Midnight wiped a few of her sweaty bangs from her forehead. The weather team could have at least made it partly cloudy. As it stood, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and Princess Celestia seemed intent on showing off her fiery orb of death today. An ice cold smoothie sounded really good right about now, “Say, Moonbeam, did Sour happen to mention when happy hour was over?”

Moonbeam's face scrunched up in thought, “I think his sign had ten written on it, but don't quote me on that.”

Damn. So much for that idea. Looks like she'd just have to suffer through the heat. At least she was making a little money, “I see you're eyeing those strawberries,” And maybe a little more.

Moonbeam snapped her eyes back to Midnight from the small green sprouts, “Me? No, no, no. I was just, uh, drinking my smoothie,” she took a slow, very deliberate drink from it while she looked nervously at the gray bat pony.

Midnight gave a toothy grin. Moonbeam always did have terrible self restraint, “You know, if you had some strawberry plants, you could make as many fresh smoothies as you wanted to. No need to wait for happy hour.”

Moonbeam sputtered on the smoothie, “W-What?”

Midnight lightly batted at the strawberry plants with a hoof, causing them to bend and flex in seeming excitement at the prospect of getting a new home, “Oh, yes. Of course, you'd need to give them a year or so to grow in properly, but once they're rooted in place, just imagine the possibilities,” she leaned over the table and wrapped a hoof around Moonbeam's neck, “The smoothies. The jams and jellies. The shortcake.”

Moonbeam salivated profusely as flashes of red fruity goodness and whipped cream danced in her head. She looked over at Midnight's grinning face, “How much?”

Midnight took once last glance up and down the street at the tents and stands. The Garbonza was virtually dead. She walked over to her wagon and sat down next to it. Not really surprising. She grabbed the clock that was next to her and looked at it. Twelve-thirty. The morning crowd had gone home and the afternoon rush wouldn't start for another hour or so. She let the clock slip from her hooves and gently land in the grass that lay under her tent as she panted.

Or the heat had finally killed everyone and she was the last living pony in Equestria. One of those two. She hopped into the wagon and opened a small blue cooler that sat within. She pulled out a sandwich and a pear. If nopony was coming for a while, why not grab a bite to eat in the interim? She sat back down in her spot and unwrapped the wax paper from around her sandwich.

She took a big whiff of it to savor it. Tuna fish. Strangely, while carnivorism was taboo, almost nopony minded eating fish. It was the hypocritical exception to the rule. Thank Luna seaponies were only mythological or her one culturally accepted delicious meat source would likely be taboo as well. She took a large bit out of it.

She looked up. The tomato seedlings now outnumbered the strawberries. Next month, she'd definitely be doing strawberries again. That was for sure. They seemed to be a smash hit. She might even have to leave early at the rate she was going. There were only three dozen saplings in total left and the afternoon crowd hadn't even arrived yet.

Her vision shifted from the table of plants to the patch of smashed down grass where Mr. Tree had once sat. She sniffled and her eyes grew watery. It was always bittersweet selling her little trees. She nurtured them. Cared for them. Loved them. And then had to watch as they were slowly carried away to parts unknown. Would they get good homes? Would their new owners love them as much as she did?

She rubbed her eyes with a foreleg to clear them of the liquid that had built up. It was silly to get choked up, she knew. After all, it was Mr. Tree's dream to grow big and strong. To become the best apple tree ever. And to give his owners the plumpest, juiciest apples that would be the envy of all those earth pony apple farmers. She could never give him that dream. She could never give him the attention he deserved or the foals who would climb his branches and laugh at the joy he gave them.

So she had sold him to a nice couple who had just moved into town. With a little water and some luck, he'd be living his dream in no time. She might never be able to fully live out her dream as a gardener, but she'd be damned if she was going to stand in the way of someone else's dreams just to make herself a little happier.

After taking another bite out of the sandwich, she turned her attention to the pear to get her mind off of Mr. Tree's farewell. A shame it was still spring—although you wouldn't know it from the temperature—or she'd be gorging herself on a watermelon instead of the puny pear. But it just wasn't melon season yet. She'd have to make due with the cheap fruits that were available.

She clamped her fangs around the fleshy green skin and began to suck. She closed her eyes as the sweet, cold juices flowed into her. The pear started to shrivel and turn a dead, dry yellow as the bat pony extracted the nutrients and juice from its oblong form. After several more seconds, she spit the husk from her mouth and let it fall to the ground before she finished off her sandwich.

It just wasn't the same. It probably never would be. After Night Terror, fruits could just never replicate that. It was miles apart. She looked down at the dried pear. Still, it wasn't as though sucking fruits dry wasn't an enjoyable experience. That pear was just as tasty and refreshing as it had always been. It was just blood was so much more refreshing. Maybe the next time those nationalists came by she'd actually hear what they had to say. At the very least, they could point her in the direction of the nearest blood bank.

She got up and tossed the sandwich's wax paper and the husk of what used to be a pear into the metal drum of a trashcan that sat next to her table of fruits. Her ears perked at the sound of wings flapping in a frenzy above her tent. She leaned over the table and looked into the still cloudless sky.

“Oh, Midnight. Thank, Luna! Just the pony I was looking for. I was worried you had gone to lunch,” A dark gray bat pony landed right in front of her tent. She anxiously walked in and sat a small clay pot on the table, “Can you help me?”

Midnight looked down at the wilting eggplant. Small holes riddled its leaves and several of the leaves had begun to turn brown. She looked back up at the pony, “What can I do, Sword?”

Sword Parry paced around in front of the table, “I just don't know what I'm going to do. I tried peat moss, PureGrow fertilizer, even some ground up magical crystals from the Crystal Empire,” she rushed back over to the eggplant, “But nothing's helping!” she rubbed her forehooves together nervously, “I don't want to have to give up on my dreams of homemade baba ghanoush and stuffed eggplant.”

Midnight looked back down at the plant. Eggplant. She suppressed a wince. No need to alarm Sword Parry. But eggplant. Ugh. She even had issues with the things. They tried their hardest to grow strong—really, they did—but they were just so susceptible. There were so many things ready to kill them, or eat them, or use them as a host. They were like the Royal Guard of plants.

She knew those tiny holes anywhere, “Flea beetles.”

Sword looked at her, “What?”

She carefully examined one of the seedling's hole-riddled leaves, “You have a flea beetle problem. They're a small beetle that likes munching on eggplant—and tomatoes, and mustard... pretty much most plants, really.”

Sword's eyes widened in panic, “Oh no. You mean my tomatoes are next?!” This was an utter disaster. No baba ghanoush, no fresh made pizza sauce. What next? “What am I gonna do?”

Midnight grabbed her watering tin and drizzled some water on the eggplant seedling. In this kind of heat, it was really important to keep the fluids up, “It depends on how you want to approach it. A pesticide's the obvious choice, but if that's not your thing, you could try planting trap plants.”

Sword furrowed her brow, “Like, a Venus fly trap?” Where was she going to find enough of them to protect her garden?

Midnight patted at the damp soil that surrounded the small eggplant, “Oh, no. A trap plant is one that is designed to 'lure' the pests away and basically take the damage they cause. Something like a radish—you don't eat the leaves, you eat the root. So the flea beetles can munch away to their heart's content without actually causing damage to the crop.”

“B-But I don't like radishes!”

Midnight couldn't blame her. She wasn't a big fan of the things, either, “It doesn't have to be a radish. It could be another plant. Or, you could drizzle some oil, like neem oil, over the leaves of the plants to discourage the beetles from eating it.”

“Neem oil, right,” Sword looked down at her poor eggplant, “Is there anything else?”

Midnight gently stroked the plant's leaves, “Most importantly: keep calm. Your eggplants are already under enough distress. They don't need their owner freaking out, too. Just spray some pesticides, plant some trap crops, or coat them with oil. And read up on flea beetles. It's likely this fight will be a reoccurring one,” Horrible memories of the Great Aphid War flashed through Midnight's head.

Sword Parry picked up the clay pot and smiled, “Oh, thanks, Midnight. I don't know what I would have done without you.”

Probably just read an earth pony book about gardening, “No problem, Sword. I'm always happy to help aspiring gardeners.” The two exchanged waves as Sword took to the sky again, potted eggplant in hoof. Midnight's attention quickly shifted to a pegasus mare who had wandered up to her table, “Hello.”

“Hi. I was just looking around and your strawberry seedlings caught my eye. How much are you charging for them?”

*******

“What a day,” Midnight wiped off her forehead with the cold, wet washcloth before letting it soak under the bathroom faucet again. She took back the whole “it was a nice day” thing. The weather team had been wholly out of their mind. Eighty-five! It had gotten up to eighty-five. In spring. In a tent with no fan. She wrung the washcloth out before draping it over the back of her neck. She checked her face and fangs in the mirror to make sure everything still looked okay before walking out into the lobby.

Several tables of baked goods rimmed the concrete room. The old Hollow Shades Train Station was a great location to base the Garbonza from—especially since it had full running water and bathrooms. Wait. She checked the pie and cupcake tables again. There wasn't anypony there. Sure, the vendors took breaks throughout the day—she was taking one right now—but as she looked around the room, she saw there wasn't a single booth that had a pony behind it. They were all empty.

“Hello, is anypony here?” An uncomfortableness started to settle inside her. Please don't be the Benefactors. The last thing she needed or wanted was another fight. She walked out of the building and looked down the steps into the row of tents and tables. Behind of one of the larger tents that housed Urban Combat and his pottery it seemed most of the Garbonza had congregated around a radio.

“What is going on?” she mumbled before walking over. Was there some kind of weather alert? Maybe it was eighty because they were planning a big storm? She squeezed in between two white tents and popped out into the group of ponies.

Midnight looked at the gathering of ponies, “What's going on?”

Tower Defense turned to her, “Didn't you hear? Princess Twilight's making an announcement. Apparently, something happened to her friend the other day.”

Midnight froze in place. Her friend? The one she forced into a bottle? She had to admit to herself she hadn't really thought about the ramifications of defeating Rainbow Dash. It was another pony. Another paycheck. Defeating Spitfire hadn't sent the Wonderbolts after her, after all, so why would defeating Dash be any different?

It was nothing. It had to be nothing. Princess Twilight had other friends. Maybe one of them had been foalnapped by a cult. Or gotten food poisoning and there was going to be some food reform. Or was trapped in a bottle by a greedy would-be gardener and—she needed to sit down. It had been a hot day and she was getting heatstroke or something. Why else was she starting to sweat?

Tower's face grew concerned, “You okay, Midnight? You don't look so good.”

“Y-Yeah, I'm fine,” she pointed at the washcloth on her neck, “Just a little hot.”

“I know the feeling. I think we need to buy the weather team a dictionary. They seem to have forgotten the definition of 'spring',” he put a hoof on her shoulder, “Just take it easy, okay? Maybe lay off that fighting league for a bit.”

“I'll think about it.”

“Alright,” he turned back to the radio, “I sure hope this announcement isn't anything serious. I can't remember Princess Twilight ever making an announcement before. She's always been the reserved one.”

Yeah, what could possibly be the reason? “I-I'm sure it's nothing.”

He looked back and her and chuckled, “You know, that's a very guilty tone you have there, Midnight. You haven't been up to anything, have you?”

She tried her best to not smile nervously, “Of course not. I've been here all week. I haven't done anything clandestine or illegal.” Probably. She wasn't a lawyer.

“Come on, Midnight. You know I'm only joking. Sheesh, that heat must be really getting to you.”

A short chime from the radio caused both to focus on it, “This is an NPR Royal Announcement. Her Majesty, Princess Twilight Sparkle, will now speak.”

“My little ponies. I know this may be a little odd. I'm not usually one for public addresses, but this topic is just too important to leave unaddressed, and too personal to pass off to Princess Celestia or Luna. Over the last few months, as I'm sure many of you know, a new sport has taken Equestria by storm. For those who don't know, or, like me, don't really follow sports, it's called the Underground Fighting League.”

Oh no. No, no no no no no no. Midnight fidgeted in place. This wasn't happening. She was currently passed out from heatstroke and this was just a hallucination. Or she had been killed in that first fight against Echo and this was all just a dream as she slowly died on the warehouse floor.

“Many have been caught up in its spectacle—even one of my close friends, Rainbow Dash—but I've discovered that it is far more sinister than it let's on. Dozens of ponies, ranging from Captain Spitfire of the Wonderbolts, over to rank and file members of the Royal Guard, and even my close friend, have been injured by this organization.

“It ill behooves Equestria to allow this dangerous spectacle to continue. As we cheer and root for our favorites, the fighters are inflicting a terrible cost on not just each other, but those around them. Foals and adults alike are being lured in by the promises of fame and fortune. Innocent ponies are being caught up in, and hurt by, the greed of others,” Ouch. If Midnight didn't know any better, she'd say that last remark was targeted at her.

“Attorney General Cloudy Skies has been investigating the UFL for weeks, and while I thank him and the efforts of the Ministry of Justice, those efforts are not enough. Every week another group of ponies are injured. Another life is ruined. And countless bits worth of property damage occur. It must stop.

“So, under the authority granted to me by the National SAFE Act, and Article Three of the Equestrian Charter, I am hereby ordering the closure of the Underground Fighting League and a full investigation into the league's dangerous activities.” Midnight's ears flattened. Looks like she'd have to find a new alternate source of bits.

“Furthermore, to prove that actions have consequences and that we will not tolerate these sort of activities any longer, the Office of the Vanguard is offering a one hundred thousand bit bounty for the successful capture of Midnight Dream, the mare responsible for the injuries to Rainbow Dash.”

End of Chapter Seven

Author's Note

Once again, there's no fetish scenes as the plot sets things up for the last three chapters.

If you're curious about the bit sign (ѣ) or don't have the right unicode information, it's a yat, the 36th letter of the old Cyrillic alphabet.

Midnight vs. Bounty

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the Prologue.

Chapter Nine: Midnight vs. Bounty

“It's nine o'clock, and here are the top stories this hour straight from the desks of the Canterlot newsroom. The shocking and sudden ban of the Underground Fighting League by Princess Twilight Sparkle yesterday continues to cause ripples across Equestria. We'll hear reactions from Parliament and our legal experts weigh in on the possible appeal at nine ten.”

“An airship has crashed at the Night Guard's Crescent Moon Military Base, injuring twenty-five. Sources indicate the airship, the TMS Dreamscape, was attempting to apprehend Midnight Dream, a bat pony wanted in connection with the injury of the Element of Loyalty, when one of its ballast tanks ruptured, sending it careening into the airfield. No fatalities were reported.”

“Saddle Arabia has experienced its worst sandstorm in twenty yea—” Midnight tapped her nightstand several times before finally finding her target. The radio switched off. She reluctantly lifted her head from the pillow and winced. Her jaw still hurt and her muscles were tight and stiff. The day after a fight was never pleasant.

She sat up. The blanket was haphazardly tossed to the side. She yawned and smacked her lips several times. As if muscle pain wasn't bad enough, she had to have one of the worst night sleeps she'd had since the bank sent that letter threatening foreclosure last year. Going home to go to sleep had been a disaster. Every little noise, creak, and squeak from her fifty year old cottage had caused her to shoot out of bed like a rocket, wide-eyed and heart thumping.

She had tried to psych herself out. The Night Guard would be too busy dealing with the Dreamscape to bother checking her house again. They'd wait at least until tomorrow. But would they really? After the first few hours, wouldn't they just send another team to her house to see if she were there? So every noise became another excuse to make sure her bedroom window was oiled and ready to be opened at a moment's notice.

She rolled off her bed and limped out of her bedroom, making sure to avoid the dresser that was still knocked over next to her bedroom door. She glanced down at it as she climbed over. At least they had made sure to get their flattened comrades when Shadow captured her. No pony left behind and all that.

The morning sun filtered in through her kitchen window, much to the delight of the countertop plants, who eagerly sucked in the nourishing sunlight. She smiled, “How's it going today, guys?” The plants waved their leaves happily at their owner in acknowledgment of her and not because she had forgotten to turn the fan off last night that was in the living room.

“That's good. Today's a really big day, you know,” she grabbed a teapot from the cupboard and filled it with some tap water, “I'm going to be turning myself in. Middy's got to get those bits and she thinks this is the best way,” the faucet was turned off and the teapot placed on the stove. She always hated this part. The gas was turned on and she fumbled with a match. One small puff of fire, reflexive recoil of a hoof, and twinge of regret over not buying a new stove later and the water was on its way to boiling.

She looked from the teapot back to the plants, “I just hope you guys will be okay. Those water bulbs won't last forever,” she walked over and lightly ran her hoof over the many plants' leaves, “You see, I'm probably gonna be gone for a while. You might not see me again. In fact, that's almost a guarantee.”

Each plant looked much better than they had previously. Their leaves were green. Their stems strong. And there wasn't an aphid or caterpillar to be found, “Don't worry. You guys will do fine without me. You all ready all know each other and you won't have to have me constantly nagging you. You'll finally get your independence.”

She sat down at her kitchen table to wait for the water to come to a boil, “I just hope you all will still remember me even after I'm long gone. Because I'll remember you.” They were healthy and strong. They'd do just fine without her. She really had nothing to worry about. Her eyes wandered over to the mallet that was still on her kitchen floor.

Well, she did have one thing to worry about. A certain purple thing with wings and a horn. If what Shadow said was true—and why wouldn't it be? Why else would she have been taken to the Aerodrome?—then once she turned herself in, her next stop would be that dead end farming town near Canterlot that always seemed to attract everypony's attention.

She gulped and glanced over to the stove. Was the water ready yet? Anything to take her mind off the likely punishment. Because while jail time or banishment was still a possibility, Midnight couldn't help but feel that thanks to her defeat of Rainbow Dash, Princess Twilight would favor a much more unique punishment. If she could enchant a bottle with something like that, the possibilities were endless—wringers, steamrollers, mallets, boulders—you name it.

She'd never been flattened before. M-Maybe it wasn't that bad? She slumped down into the chair and rested her head on the table. Who was she kidding? Of course it was that bad. Spitfire. Night Terror. Sky Fighter. Echo. Shadow. Did any of them enjoy it? It would not be a pleasant experience. Okay, it technically would, since the princess would hypnotize her into liking it, but that didn't very well count.

Was it really worth it? A hundred thousand bits for Luna knows how long as a wafer thin light gray and purple sheet. She lifted up her head and looked at the trash can. Yesterday's junk mail was balanced precariously on top of a mound of apple cores and empty tin cans. Her fighting days were over, but the bills weren't. They'd keep coming. Thanks to Dash and Spitfire, she had a nice little buffer in her bank account, but that wouldn't last forever.

The simple truth was that she wasn't making enough bits as a gardener. Twenty thousand bits a year—and that was if she was lucky—just wasn't going to cut it. Not with a mortgage, anyway. But a hundred thousand bits certainly would. A hundred thousand bits would be all she'd need. She'd be able to stay in Hollow Shades and garden to her heart's content.

She could worry about Princess Twilight's punishment until all the water in that teapot evaporated, but the fact remained she could be forced through dozens of wringers and pressed wafer thin, squashed into a disk and used as a coaster, or pounded flat as cardboard and placed as a decorative bat pony cutout for five years before it would no longer be worth it.

A hundred thousand bits was just too irresistible. No mortgage. No worrying every time you got the mail. No doubt over what that image on your butt really meant. How could anypony say no to something like that?

********

Midnight looked back one last time at her garden as she soared into the sky. Goodbyes were always the hardest. She could only hope the tomatoes would comfort the poor watermelon vines in their time of need. They'd always been so self-conscious and even though she made sure to reassure them that she wasn't leaving because of their lackluster performance, she couldn't help but wonder if they'd always blame themselves for her departure.

The light orange scarf wrapped around her neck flapped and fluttered in the cool morning air. Occasionally, she had to fuss around with it to stop it from touching her leathery wings as they flapped. Getting a wing caught in a scarf and going into a death spiral was not her ideal way of dying. She looked forward from the deadly scarf at the hazy outline of Mount Canterhorn that sat on the horizon and the city that always seemed to be on the precipitate of sliding off the side of it. Why the unicorns choose to make that their home would always baffle her.

It was miles away. Forty to be precise. A long flight from Hollow Shades wasn't ideal—especially with the way her wings felt after yesterday—but she didn't have much of a choice. Not only was she not going to pay the ten bits Equestria Central Railroad was charging, but she had a hundred thousand bits hanging over her head like an anvil ready to crush her into an accordion.

Taking any form of mass transit was sure to get the authorities—or even some wayward pony looking to cash in—on her tail. No thank you. She'd rather spend several hours flying there than deal with a fight on a train. And it's not like it was that bad. The thermals helped to boost her lift and she didn't have to constantly flap those tired wings. Most of the time she'd be gliding.

The weather team had apparently decided not be be insane and actually made it much cooler. It'd only get up to about sixty and that was at ground level and not twenty-five hundred feet up. Hence the scarf. She took a deep breath of the fresh, cool air as she flapped her wings several more times to gain an extra boost from the thermal before settling back into a glide.

The houses and barns below slowly moved by. Hollow Shades was a sprawling metropolis compared to the countryside outside of the forest. Hills, farms, and the occasional general store dotted the landscape. Several railroads, straight as a board compared to winding roads and streams, stood in stark contrast to their surroundings as they dug their way through the landscape. No wonder the train was so much faster.

Canterlot edged ever closer. She'd been at it for a few hours. The barns and farmhouses had given way to small towns. The whole of which were clumped desperately along a single road or railroad, as if it was the blood that gave the towns their life. Hollow Shades very likely would have been nothing more than one of those many small town she had flown over if it hadn't been for the Night Guard.

Just one more thing to thank them for, she supposed. If only they hadn't come to define the entire bat pony species. With all of the good, came the bad. She shook her head. Now wasn't the time to think about that. She had to get ready for when she arrived. Canterlot wasn't the most... logical city in Equestria. She'd been there before for jury duty. A shudder ran up her spine.

Thank goodness they hadn't selected her because of her possible “Lunar fanaticism.” She probably had a good discrimination case, but who in Equestria would file a lawsuit to serve on a jury? If that wasn't fanatical, she didn't know what was. Either way, Canterlot was insane. Limited space plus an aristocracy obsessed with the past meant city planning was a nightmare.

Every building was an historical landmark for Starlight the Poorly Endowed's achievement or had been passed down from generation to generation and was the cornerstone of the Earl of Too Much Money's family. She wondered if they had built anything new in decades. The buildings were probably as old as Princess Celestia's eyelashes.

She'd be lucky if she could twist her way through the city and find where the Office of the Vanguard was actually located. The government bureaucracy was as tangled and chaotic as the city streets that lead to it. One ministry was on one side of town, the other was in the bowels of Canterlot Castle or at the top of one of the spires. No wonder the Night Guard had relocated to Hollow Shades.

A sudden gust of wind caused her to stumble and spin. Her scarf came undone and was carried away by the blustery wind. She quickly used her tail and wings to reorient herself. Mount Canterhorn was now so close, the winds that whipped around it were starting to be a problem. She snorted in annoyance as she watched the orange fabric flap away. She'd paid good money for that scarf. So what if it was from a second hoof store? It was still good money.

Her wings were already starting to throb from fighting against the wind. And she was still a mile away from the polished white bricks that made up the city's walls. The heavy winds would make gliding impossible. She just hoped her wings were up to the extra work.

She looked down at the mountain and noticed a light purple blob that was sitting on a small plateau suddenly jump into the air. It struggled against the winds but gradually flapped and twisted its way into the air. Must be a hiking pegasus. She returned her attention to Canterlot, which was becoming more and more detailed as she neared. There was the Castle, the statue garden, the cramped business district, the gaudy marble mansions. The city looked just as ancient as it always did.

The alleys in the business district would be a good place to land. Quiet, secluded, and as far away from the Royal Guard as possible. No point in getting the entire Equestrian military after her. She might even be able to get a travel brochure and figure out just where she was supposed to go. A sudden uncomfortable feeling settled into her stomach. Let's just hope the Vanguard wasn't in the Castle. She doubted the Royal Guard would be so incompetent as to let a wanted fugitive waltz in.

The winds picked up. Every few seconds a gust would overcome her and send her spinning and tumbling end over end in the air. She winced as her wings voiced their displeasure at the strain she was putting them through. Another gust hit her and flipped her upside down, where she saw the form of a light purple pegasus a hundred yards behind her.

“Ah, Midnight Dream, is it? We finally meet,” Midnight slowed to a stop as the mare caught up to her.

“Uh, hello?” She shouldn't have stopped. Nothing good could come from stopping.

The mare smiled, “It's actually quite fortunate. I was just on my way to Hollow Shades from the Office of the Vanguard when look who happens to be flying in.”

“Oh no,” The mare's smile turned more aggressive at the sight of the panicking bat pony. Dread quickly filled Midnight. She didn't have time for this. Not only that, but her wings were already killing her after a five hour long flight. She just didn't have the energy for another desperate fight. Not even Bill scheduled fights back-to-back and he had tried to turn her into a frisbee.

Instead of letting the mare talk, where she'd undoubtedly go into some monologue about how she were going to defeat her and blah blah blah, she glanced back at Canterlot and bolted for it as fast as her pained wings could take her. The mare's smile didn't budge, “They always try to run.” She immediately started to pursue.

Midnight glanced over her shoulder at the purple mare. She furrowed her brow in confusion. Sure, the pegasus was chasing her, but it wasn't so much a chase as it was a leisurely flight. Unlike Spitfire, or Dash—or any of her opponents now that she thought about it—this mare was content to just hang back and follow. She wasn't trying to catch up at all.

Suited her just fine. She eased up and let her wings relax a little. No point in bring them to their breaking point if there wasn't any risk of being caught. The two slipped past Canterlot's outer wall and the blustery winds were quickly replaced by soft, gentle breezes. Her eyes focused in on the business district. She didn't know what the mare's plan was, but if it meant she could land and lose her in the maze that is Canterlot, all the better.

Star Breeze looked on at the bat pony as she tried to slip behind a row of boutiques and out of sight. It was a decent strategy, she'd give Midnight that, but it was an all too common one. Try and hide, lay low for a little while, maybe blend in with a crowd of tourists and quietly walk out of town. It could work, if she weren't one of the rarest species in Equestria.

Tufted eyes. Smooth, featherless wings. Whatever was going on with those weird eyes. That pony couldn't stick out more if she had a bright red coat and jet black mane. There'd be no trouble spotting her. So it was best to just let her run. Run, fly, pant—wear herself out in panic trying to escape. Then all she had to do is walk up, tie her legs up with some rope and cash in her new retirement payment. Sometimes, bounty hunting was the easiest job around.

She landed and checked some dumpsters and trash cans for the lean fugitive. The back alleys were much cleaner than one would expect. The garbage was neatly piled into the cans. The hoof crafted cobblestone path was swept clean of debris. The fresh pant on the walls tidily concealed any graffiti. Canterlot always tried to shine and sparkle as brightly and arrogantly as possible—it was just one more thing the unicorns could flaunt over the rest of the kingdom.

Star's ears perked at the sound of garbage cans getting knocked over, “Lunadamn it!” She smiled and flew over to the voice. Midnight wouldn't be too tired to put up one of her complicated fighting routines if she just let her rest, now would she?

Midnight glared at the cause of her discovery and defeat—a pair of empty metal trash cans. The sound of wings flapping caused her to look back at the light purple pegasus. She grit her teeth, “Just leave me alone, will ya?!”

Star landed and chuckled, “Only if you can pay me a hundred thousand bits as compensation,” she paused for a second before shrugging, “Oh, who am I kidding. I'd double cross you and turn you in anyway. Twice the bits for half the work.”

“You're honesty is very reassuring.” Midnight grabbed one of the trash can lids and held it up in front of her like a shield.

Star rolled her eyes, advancing several feet, “Who do you think I am? Sky Fighter? I'm not just going to blindly charge at you. I do my homework before I go after a target. I've seen those recordings.”

Midnight backpedaled through the side alley and toward the road, “Then you know not to mess with me.”

Star continued to creep forward, “No, I know not to get near you when you're next to something that can flatten a pony out,” she looked around at the brick walls on either side of the narrow alley, “And unless these walls can suddenly slam together, you're not near something like that at the moment.”

Star's pace started to get faster, causing Midnight to stumble backward. Star smiled as the bat pony neared the alley's entrance, “Better watch yourself. Bat ponies aren't exactly the most common thing in Canterlot. Who knows how much attention you'll attract. The Royal Guard might even get involved.”

Midnight tossed the lid at Star like a frisbee and flapped into the air. Star knocked the lid to the ground with a clatter and looked up at the fleeing bat pony, “You really do like running, don't you?” she lazily spread her wings and hovered up after the gray pony.

Midnight swept around the lightning rods, flag poles, and little spires that dotted the roofs of the various shops and restaurants that lined the business district. Maybe she could just head straight to the Vanguard? Assuming they didn't think her purple pursuer had actually captured her and pay her instead. And that she could actually find where the Vanguard was located.

A larger, fancier granite office building caused her to change course and head toward the aristocracy's mansions. She looked to her left at Canterlot Castle and the courtyard that had several groups of white pegasi sparing in it. She'd stay as far away from there as possible. She passed over a chiseled stone statue of Luna. Behind her, the athletic young pegasus continued her slow, methodical chase.

Midnight panted. There was that statue again. She'd looped over it so many times, she could see the fumble the carver had made on Luna's snout, causing it to be more jagged and pointy than the real thing, and the bronze plaque that was bolted to the statue's pink granite base. This was insane. She looked back over her shoulder. Star was still several dozen yards behind her.

Her wings were killing her. And she was positive that wasn't a metaphor. They were going to literally murder her at some point in the near future as revenge for what she was putting them through. They'd probably just seize up and refuse to move one day and she'd plummet to her death while they cackled in sadistic glee.

She was also starving. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and that was a five hour flight, plus at least another two hours flying in circles around Canterlot, ago. She was also sure she was turning into a mummy with how thirsty she was. She really should have thought things through a little better. Who else but her wouldn't bring a bottle of water on a five hour long flight to Canterlot?

Just giving up was looking like a better and better opt—a bowling ball encased in a red aura shot just a few feet to her left. Great. Now she was hallucinating from hunger and thi—the next bowling ball didn't miss and hit her square in the gut, knocking the wind out of her and sending her crumpling to the ground.

Star's jaw fell open in shock, before it just as quickly slammed shut in a snarl. She glared down at the smirking unicorn below, “Spell, you coneheaded prude, what do you think you're doing?! This is my catch!”

The light yellow unicorn glanced up, “Oh? I don't see your name on her, featherbrain.” Star growled at the unicorn before flying down to the downed bat pony.

Midnight wobbily poked her head out of the white and orange debris she had landed on. She shook her head to try and clear it of the stars and dancing apple saplings. She looked around. Where had she landed? A large pit had been dug into the road next to her. Cones and caution tape surrounded the pit. Off to the side sat a bulldozer and—her heart either sank or leapt in joy, she wasn't sure—a steamroller.

On the opposite side of the hole were several large concrete drainage tubes. Canterlot was so old, it was rotting from the water pipes out. She stepped out of the pile of wood. To her left was a red and white wooden road block. Good thing she had something to break her fall. But why did she fall in the first place? She looked behind her at the sparkly pink bowling ball that lay in the pile of wood. Who would throw a bowling ball at her?

She turned her head around just in time for Star to slam into her. The two broke through the other wooden barrier and skidded to a stop just in front of the hole, “Change of plans, Midnight,” Star looked back and the unicorn before looking down at the dazed bat pony, “Hope you're tired enough because I gotta get you to the Vanguard quick bef—yah!”

Star grabbed Midnight and dove into the hole. A loud crash and a small cloud of dust was kicked up. Midnight poked her head out of the hole. Where the two had previously been now sat an anvil dug into the road. Midnight snorted. Of course there was. What next? Was she going to go flying into a wringer?

Her tail lit up in a golden aura and she was lifted into the air. No, no, no! She was being hyperbolic! With a scream, she shot through the air and winced in anticipation of the wringer that was no doubt about to receive a lean bat pony. With a jerk, she came to rest, still suspended upside down a few feet off the ground.

“So, you're the pony worth a hundred kay?” Midnight opened her eyes to see a young yellow unicorn smugly eyeing her over, “And a bat pony, too. Don't see many of you crawl out of that hole in the forest you live in.”

Midnight scowled. Just what she needed. A unicorn. Shed never fought a unicorn before and good thing too. They have such a big advantage it's not even fair. Flying spells. Gardening spells. Weather spells. A unicorn could do everything the other species could do and then some. How do you compete with that?

“Magic Spell, back off,” Midnight twisted around to see the pegasus hovering several yards away, teeth clinched.

What did she call the unicorn? “What did you say her name was?”

Star grinned, “You heard right. Magic Spell. I couldn't believe it myself when I first learned about it,” her grin widened when she saw the angry scowl that now adorned Spell's face, “The name fits perfectly. Plain, boring, unoriginal. It suits you well, Spell.”

Midnight struggled to suppress a laugh as she looked at the unicorn, “Y-Your name's M-Magic Spell?” her diaphragm could no longer hold back and she erupted with laughter, “Magic Spell! I can't believe it. I've heard some names in my day, but Magic Spell?” she wiped the tears from her eyes, “What's your dad's name? Male Horn?”

Star snorted and collapsed to the ground in laughter at the innuendo, “Oh, Celestia above. Male Horn! Th-That's a good one. I'll have to remember that one.”

Midnight clenched her ribs. She shouldn't have made that joke, “I-I can't breath!”

One of Magic Spell's eyes twitched, “Shut up!” she flung the bat pony as hard as she could into a nearby door, causing Midnight to crash through it and skid into the candy shop on the other side.

“Ooohohhhhh.” Midnight rubbed her head. She shouldn't have made that joke.

A golden aura enveloped her and she was lifted off the tile floor. Spell appeared in the ruined doorway, “If you're going to be so crass as to insult my name, maybe I should just end this right now,” she smirked, “I wonder what a bat pony cube looks like?”

Midnight's eyes widened in fear as she felt the telekinesis start to tighten around her. She tried to squirm and kick, but was fully restrained by the telekinetic field. She grunted as the magic started to compact her down. This was bad. Really, really bad.

The pressure suddenly lifted as Spell flipped over top of her and crashed into a bin full of bubble gum. Her hind legs and light brown tail drooped out from within the bin. Midnight dropped to the ground, her limbs popping back out from their slightly compacted state. She peeled her tail from off her back and looked back at the door at the now grinning Star.

“Ha! Serves you right, Spell,” she looked to Midnight, “You know, I probably should have let her finish compressing you into a cube. It would have made this part a lot easier.”

Star lunged at Midnight, who jumped into the air to avoid the light purple mare. This was getting out of control. Eventually one of them would succeed in capturing her and her dream of a hundred thousand bits would go up in smoke. They could keep fighting whatever little grudge they had with each other. She had a Vanguard to get to.

Without waiting to see which of the bounty hunters would attack her first, she flew out of the shop and back into the air. She hovered several stories off the road and scanned Canterlot's rooftops for a moment, trying to get her bearings. It might be near the High Court Building. A crash from the candy shop decided it. High Court Building it w—a bin of bubble gum broke against her, causing her to clench her teeth in pain and once again drop to the ground.

This time, she hit one of the concrete drainage pipes and rolled off, landing next to it. Pieces of bubble gum rained down on her as she rubbed her head once more. She just couldn't catch a break, could she? “Are you tired out yet, Midnight?” she looked up to see Star hovering above her, “Just think. A warm bed. Three meals a day. All you have to do is come with me and it'll all be over.”

Midnight shot Star a look before standing up, “An airship couldn't catch me. I'm not about to let a pegasus.”

“Oh, ho, ho,” Star chuckled, “Aren't we boastful? I suppose you deserve to be a little bit. Spitfire, Rainbow Dash, a dirigible. You could be a Captain of the Guard at the rate you're padding out your resume.”

“You sound just like a stallion I know.” She hoped Tower was okay. Attempts to arrest her or not, she'd still feel terrible if her screw ups had gotten him hurt.

“Sounds like a reasonable guy. You should listen to his advise and give up.”

“I'll give up all right. Just as soon as the Vanguard pays me the bounty.” she glanced back nervously at the drainage pipe she was next to. She needed to get away from that thing. It looked heavy and was cylindrical. Experience taught her that was a combination that could only lead to one thing. And she wasn't about to be flattened this close to getting her bits.

“Pay you?” Star snorted in bemusement, “As if there isn't enough competition in this business already, now I have to deal with the targets competing as well?” she shot down and grabbed onto Midnight before she could react, “How 'bout this? I knock you out. End this little fight already. Get my bits. And move on to the next bounty.”

Star pushed her against the concrete pipe. Time for more close quarters fighting. Midnight tried to block the ache the resonated from her legs and wing muscles and focus on the athletic pegasus in front of her. If her body had a say in the matter, it would have wholeheartedly voted in favor of surrendering to the pegasus and spending the next few weeks relaxing in a jail cell—or magically enchanted bottle as was more likely.

Just as Star raised a hoof to punch her, the drainage pipe lit up in a golden telekinesis. The bottom fell out of Midnight's stomach. If she got out of all this still in three dimensions, she'd probably have a lifelong fear of heavy objects. The pipe slowly started to roll toward the duo. Midnight felt the concrete press against her back. She had to move fast before her tail or hooves got pinched beneath it.

Star's grip loosened as she stared in shock at the pipe's unexpected movement. Midnight smirked. Just the opportunity she was looking for. She punched Star in her chest, knocking the mare back a couple yards. Midnight jumped into the air just as she felt her rear hooves start to get pinched by the pipe.

Star snapped her gaze from the slowly rolling pipe back to Midnight and growled, “I should have figured something like this would happen,” she flapped her wings and rose up in pursuit, “It's all that damn Spell's fault. I had this thing in the bag until she showed up.”

A sudden shooting pain in her wing caused Midnight to falter and stumble back to the ground. She furiously rubbed the wing with a hoof several times to try and relax it. She just couldn't keep doing it. It was just too much. The Night Guard fight. The blimp battle. The flight to Canterlot. Now this. Her body couldn't take much more of this.

Star crashed into her and the two rolled several times. Purple hooves dug into Midnight's sore chest, “It’s about time I got my bits,” Star hadn't even bothered to pin her rear hooves down, let alone her wings.

Midnight jerked upright—all those sit-ups finally came in handy—and used her rear hooves to kick Star off her. The light purple pegasus stumbled back and bumped into something hard and cold. She looked back and her jaw dropped as the concrete pipe pressed her white tail against the hard road surface.

Midnight smiled. It wasn't a steamroller, but it would do. Star Breeze leapt into the air in panic but her fate was already sealed as she was jerked back to the ground by her secured tail. She tried to pull it free, even as more and more of it slipped underneath the pipe, before resorting to trying to gnaw it off with her teeth.

Finally, in desperation, she propped her rear hooves against the pipe and tried to use her powerful thigh muscles to free the trapped tail. But her hooves slipped due to the unrelenting telekinetically induced motion of the pipe and were quickly pinched flat under the heavy concrete.

“Gah!” her wings flared out in panicked surprise, “O-Oh no! No, no, no, no.” she looked back at her hind legs as they quickly joined her rear hooves as flattened out light purple ribbons, “No!” she tried to pull her way out from underneath the makeshift roller. Having squished hind legs was better than becoming a pegasus pancake, after all. But it was no use.

She looked back up at Midnight, who was sitting a safe distance in front of the pipe and rapidly flattening mare, “I-I'll get you! You and Spell. I—ergh!” The pipe rolled over her flanks and started to squash her lithe belly flat, “I-I don't know how, b-but I will—yeeagh!” the pipe scrunched down her still flared out wings and continued forward over her back, unimpeded by the pegasus.

Star tried one last time to free herself from a fully flat fate and lifted up what little was left of her unflattened athletic body with her forehooves. She yanked and pulled several times as hard as she could, before she panted in exhaustion. Her forelegs folded against her chest as the pipe rolled forward and squashed the rest of her body out.

She looked up at Midnight, “I-I'll get o-out of this,” the large drainage pipe rolled over top of her head, “Ohhmmmm,” she whimpered just as the pipe slowed to a stop. The very tip of her purple muzzle stuck out from beneath the heavy concrete pipe, while the rest of her body was squashed flat underneath it.

The golden aura that had surrounded the pipe since it started rolling dissolved away, “Well, well. It's not the pony I was aiming for,” Magic Spell confidently strode up to the pipe and the pony flattened under it. She smiled smugly when she saw Star's muzzle poking out, “But I'll take it.”

“I—augh—I hate you so much,” Star moaned out.

Spell looked from the flattened pegasus over to Midnight, “Looks like it's just you and me,” her horn lit up, “And I've got magic on my side.”

********

The bell that hung above the front door clanged. Dry Linen looked up from his magazine and smiled warmly, “Ah, Docket. Right on time,” he tossed that week's edition of Sports Weekly onto the counter and got up from his chair.

Docket Number took off his flannel colored flat cap and placed it and his ticket onto the counter, “You should know by now, Dry. I'm never late,” Docket looked at the rows and rows of freshly cleaned plastic covered clothes, “Business's picking up?”

“Oh, yes. Everypony's getting back into the late-spring drive. Getting ready for the busy summer season,” Linen picked up the ticket and walked around the rows of hangers and steamed clothes, searching for the one with Docket's name on it. He briefly looked at the stallion, “Not to mention that upcoming session of the High Court.”

Docket looked down at the copy of Sports Weekly, “Now who said anything about us having a session? The fall term doesn't start until September.”

Linen shifted his focus to another row of hangers and started to flip through them, “It's the talk of Canterlot. All those Benefactors for that fighting league—they're not just gonna let this whole thing implode in on them. Why, it's even rumored there's one on the High Court.”

Docket looked up from the fighting league's section of the magazine he had turned to, “Oh? You should know never to trust the rumors in this town.”

“I know, I know,” he took a hanger off and glanced at it, before gently folding it onto his back, “I just find it interesting that right after all this talk of appeals and emergency stays, you happen to come in wanting your robes laundered.”

Docket quickly shut the Sports Weekly and slide it back to its original spot, just as Linen appeared from the winding line of plastic covered hangers, “Can't a guy just get his clothes washed?”

Linen placed the hanger of black robes onto the counter, “Sure you can. Provided you pay, of course. Thirty bits.”

“Thirty?! It was twenty-five last time,” Docket grumbled as he fished into his leather pouch for the bits.

“Last time wasn't on a Sunday. You could have waited until tomorrow,” he smirked, “Unless you had to have the robs early for some reason.”

Docket let the bits drop noisily onto the counter, “Being nosy won't do anything for your business, Dry. Not in this town, anyway,” he picked up the hanger and draped it over his back before putting his hat back on, “Thanks for the dry cleaning.”

“Thanks for the b—” the door burst open, slamming the little bell against the wall before it could make a noise. Midnight just as quickly just it and leaned against it, panting. Linen stared at the bat pony, “...Can I help you, miss?”

Midnight raised a hoof wearily as she continued to suck in air, “J-Just... give me a sec,” Linen and Docket exchanged glances. Midnight took a few deep breaths to steady herself before she looked up, “There is, actually. Could you point me in the direction of the Office of the Vanguard?”

Docket looked at the tired bat pony, “The Vanguard? They're over in Canterlot Castle. Spire Five, if I recall.”

Midnight rubbed her eyes with a hoof, “Of course they are. Lemme' guess, they're right next to the Royal Guard?” Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe she should just cut her loses and get the next ticket to Griffia-Minotaury.

“While I'm unfamiliar with the Royal Guard's operations, I'm pretty sure they're still in the castle prop—” Docket jumped, sending his clean robes to the ground, as the glass door shattered from a mailbox hitting it. Midnight was knocked to the ground.

“I'm glad I had that safety glass installed,” Linen mumbled to himself. Midnight looked back at the small pile of glass pellets that now lined the broken door. She was pretty glad, too.

“Are you quite done? I'm growing increasingly bored of these games,” Spell stepped through the broken glass door and into the laundry mat.

“And I'm growing increasingly tired of ponies barging into my business,” Linen huffed, “If you're here to drop off some clothes, please get a ticket. If you're here to pick up clothing, please present me with a ticket. Otherwise, I kindly ask you to leave,” he looked at the glass shards and twisted metal frame of the door, “But not before you pay for a new front door.”

Midnight pointed at Spell, “That's all on her. I had nothing to do with that,” she'd be compressed into a bottle before she was forced to pay for what somepony else had caused.

“I don't care who it's on. Somepony's either gonna to fork over some bits, or I'm calling the Royal Gu—yeeaugh!” the blue earth pony was hoisted into the air by a golden telekinesis, “Put me down right now!”

Spell unceremoniously shoved him into the mailbox, his rear hooves kicking from the small opening in the mailbox's top, “I can't have anypony interfering in this—not when I'm this close to getting that bounty,” she looked over menacingly at Docket Number, “Would you like to join the earth pony?”

The color drained from his face, “Oh, Celestia. Not another mugging. At least it's not with a machete this time. Here, take my bits. Just leave me alone,” he threw his leather pouch at the unicorn, who stared flatly at him as it hit her on the face.

She walked up and punched him in the face. He went sprawling against a wall, his hat landing several feet away, and slide to the ground in a heap. Midnight crept over to the bag and opened it. She wasn't going to take advantage or anything, but he did generously offer his bits. She wasn't one to pass up such a gracious gift.

A few dozen bits were juggled to one side. A laminated card had grabbed her focus. She looked it over and her jaw dropped in shock, “Uh, Magic Spell?”

Spell stopped rubbing her sore hoof. Just another reminder to always use magic. She looked over in anger, “What?!”

“I think you just punched out the Chief Justice of the High Court.”

“Well, then. All the more reason to end this fight, already,” Midnight dove at the unicorn before she could light up her horn. She quickly flicked the horn, causing Spell to stumble back and hiss in pain. She closed her eyes tightly and rubbed her horn, which sizzled and sparked, “That's the last time you'll get away with that!”

She looked up. The bat pony was nowhere to be found. Several of the hangers swayed back and forth. Spell grit her teeth in frustration. It was supposed to be so simple. Grab Midnight, compress her into a tightly packed cube, and then chortle in glee as she decides what to buy with the huge sack of bits.

Spell walked behind the counter and through the hangers. She glanced around for any signs of the mare that continued to elude her. She turned her head and shot a bolt of magic at a laundry basket. She could have sworn she heard that pony over there. The hangers gave way to a spacious room lined with industrial washers.

She looked at the wringers and steam presses near the center of the room with a wary eye. She'd heard the news and read the newspapers. That pony seemed to have a thing for those kind of machines. She wasn't about to end up like Star Breeze.

She slowly walked past two of the washers, making sure to carefully walk over the extension cords that snaked their way from the washers to the wringers and presses. She scanned the room for gray or purple fur as she walked. Midnight poked her head out from the gap between the washers. It was a pretty tight squeeze, but if there was one thing she wasn't, it was fat. Or rich. Or not incredibly sore. As she unwedged her hips from the gap, Spell looked back, grinning, “Ah, there you are. Oh my. Are you stuck?”

“Uh, no.” Midnight tugged to try and get free.

“Here, let me help you,” the washers lit up in that cursed aura and creaked as they began to slide together.

Midnight gasped. She grabbed her flank with her forehooves and started to twist as she felt the heavy washers push against her. She had to be honest. In a room full of wringers and steam presses, being flattened out by a pair of washing machines wasn't her top guess for getting squashed flat. It wasn't even on the list.

With a pop and a shooting pain Midnight really hoped wasn't a hip dislocating, she was pushed out from between the two washers. She didn't have time to think. She stood up and rushed Spell. She had to be as aggressive—and as close to the unicorn—as possible. It was her only chance. Spell had all the range in the world. But she was terrible at hoof-to-hoof combat, as most unicorns were. They talked their big arrogant talk about how superior unicorn magic was, but were as physically weak as wet cardboard.

Just as she leapt into the air to tackle Spell, she was instantly stopped by that damn golden aura. Spell smirked as she looked at the pony frozen in her magic, “It was a valiant effort, Midnight. But you must have realized not to bring hooves to a magic fight. You'll lose every time.”

Midnight struggled in the aura. A better trained pony could fight and break free of telekinesis, or so those magazine articles had claimed. But the rec center hadn't offer any classes on magic resistance—let alone free ones—so she was stuck futilely struggling against the tightest of bonds.

“I could crush you into a cube, but you know?” Spell eyed one of the wringers, “Why not take advantage of the environment?” Midnight rolled her amber eyes. Of course she'd eventually come face to face with a clothes wringer. It was her destiny, “That way, I can let something else flatten you out and I don't have to waste the energy doing it myself.”

Spell flipped the switch on the wringer's side. The hum of the wringer's motor quickly filled the air as it wound up to speed. Midnight tried one last desperate thrust, but it was no use—Spell's telekinesis was just too strong. She flinched as she felt her purple tail slip between the rollers and yank at her rump, seemingly eager to get to the athletic mare.

The telekinesis dissipated and Midnight fell to the tile floor in a heap. Spell looked on with a wide smile as she watched Midnight get slowly dragged toward a very flat fate. Midnight tried to pull herself free. There had to be some way out of this. She hadn't flown all the way to Canterlot, just to wind up gently fluttering her way to the Vanguard. She looked over her shoulder at the electric rollers.

She could quite easily reach the off switch on its side—it was a clothes wringer, not some flattening torture device—but that would do her little good when the unicorn could just turn it back on again. She needed to fully distract the mare somehow so she could yank her tail free of the squashing rollers.

Speaking of, she stumbled back as the wringer ate more of her tail. Had it really already flattened out half of it? She only had a minute or so before it started to pinch down her butt. She eyed over the off switch. She could break it off. That might buy her some extra time. Or it might short the thing out and turn it back on again. If there was one thing the Spitfire fight had shown her, it was that OSHA was as useless as the Royal Guard.

It was just too risky. She needed a surefire way to both turn the thing off and make sure to distract the unicorn. She scanned the switch, looking for something else that she might be able to use. Maybe a piece of metal to jam up the rollers or a magnet to mess up the motor. But all she saw was polished chrome and a dial to regulate the speed. She punched the wringer's case.

“Don't get upset. It'll all be over soon enough. So tell me, do you want me to roll you up or fold you when I take you to the Vanguard?”

“You can bite me. How 'bout that?” She was fairly confident Spell wasn't a vampony. Don't want a repeat of Night Terror—well, she did want a repeat of the end of that fight. In fact, the thought of using her fangs hadn't even crossed her mind up until now. It's not like the Night Guard or fighting league would be standing in her way now.

The wringer started to work its way up the base of her tail. She looked around the wringer in panic She didn't want to use the off switch, but it looked like that was her only opt—an orange extension cord on the opposite side of the wringer caught her eye. The cord ran from behind one of the washers right up to the wringer. The electric wringer.

Midnight bent herself around and yanked on the cord as hard as she could. The wringer's cord popped off from the extension cord and the wringer slowed to a stop. Midnight sighed in relief. Her tail had been fully pressed flat. A few seconds longer and she would have found out what it was like to have a truly flat butt.

“I knew you'd try something like this,” Spell looked to the cords as her horn lit up and they floated into the air, “Congratulations. It bought you all of ten seconds,” they floated up and snapped back together. But the wringer remained off, “What!?” Maybe it was a short or something. Spell unplugged and plugged the cords in several times but there was still no hum of a motor and squeals of a rapidly flattening out bat pony.

She looked back to Midnight, who had tugged about half of her flattened purple tail free of the rollers, “What did you do!” she growled, before walking up to the mare. She carefully looked over the cord for any damage or bare wires that could explain why it wasn't working. The wringer's base was jiggled several times to see if there was a short inside it.

Midnight yanked again with her forehooves. Her tail was really flat and now resembled a purple piece of cardboard. She'd be lucky if she could pop it back out to its fluffy old self. She glanced over at the off switch she had flipped while Spell had been momentarily occupied with the cords. It was only a matter of time before the unicorn figured it out and she needed her tail free before then.

“How? How could you have stopped it? Is there some weird bat pony electrical magic I don't know about?” Spell walked around the wringer and the tin tub that lay behind it. She stared over every screw and chrome fitting, trying to see a fault, “This just baffles m—you little rat-winged skank!” she flipped the off switch back on and the wringer came to life once more.

Spell looked up and where Midnight should have been. There was no cacophony of groans and squeaks coming from the bat pony. No wafer thin purple and gray line slowly sliding out from between the rollers. No muffled pleas as the mare's head finally flattened out. Somehow, Midnight had escaped. Spell growled in frustration.

Midnight tried one last time to shake her freed tail back into shape, but its flattened form remained firmly in place. She sighed before glancing at her leathery wings. Rat-winged? A bolt of magic to her left made her jump and look over at the angry scowl on Spell's face.

“Screw it. You've wasted enough of my time with this. I'll just crush you int—agh!” Midnight jumped into the air and pounced on the mare before she even had a chance to light her horn. She couldn't give the mare that chance. The two stumbled back from the impact, right into the wringer. Spell flinched and tightly shut her eyes, expecting to soon join Star in flatness.

She opened them and relaxed slightly when she didn't feel the pinching pressure. They had hit the wringer and it's metal legs, but the rollers were recessed into its chrome frame. She was never more glad for having a short orange mane than right then. That was way too close for comfort. She needed to get Midnight secured and she needed to do it now.

Midnight resisted the urge to grunt in frustration. Of course she couldn't get lucky. When had she ever gotten lucky? She had pushed that unicorn right into—right into a wringer and yet here she was, perfectly fine. Spell looked at Midnight, grinning, “Nice try, but this isn't one of those fighting league routines.”

Midnight grabbed onto Spell's cheek. Of course, she could always just force her in. She was a physically weak unicorn, after all. Spell's grin immediately faltered as Midnight started to push her head toward the still turning rollers. She tried to kick and punch at the bat pony, but Midnight's grip held firm. Spell's punches were quite feeble compared to Spitfire or Shadow's.

The rumble of the rollers filled Spell's ears as her mane neared them. She struggled and thrashed wildly, trying to break free. She had to right now or it would be a paper thin future for her. Her horn lit up and cast the first frantic spell she could think of. A small explosion knocked Midnight clear of the wringer and unicorn.

Midnight hacked and gently flapped her wings to clear away the smoke that had been produced. She looked at Spell as her silhouette came into view from beneath the smoke. Midnight smiled brightly. The explosion may have knocked her clear of the mare, but it had also knocked Spell right into the wringer's rollers.

She relaxed her throbbing muscles and limped over to the slowly flattening unicorn. Much to her delight, Spell went in head-first. She really didn't know what she was going to do if the mare had gone in tail-first and could cast spells to her heart's content. Most of Spell's head had been squashed through the wringer. Only the tips of her orange mane were left.

Her hooves were slumped down and her body made no effort to avert the same fate as her head. Either she'd been knocked out, or had resigned herself to becoming a cardboard thin unicorn. Spell's yellow shoulders quickly slipped their way into the wringer and her chest followed soon after. Midnight walked around to the other side to see the paper thin outcome.

Spell's eyes dizzily rolled around while her tongue poked out of her mouth as her flat head gently landed in the metal bin. She groaned when her shoulders and chest folded neatly over her head. Midnight looked back to the wringer just as Spell's underbelly slipped out. Despite the heavy pressure from the rollers, the mare's belly button had retained some of it's form despite now being pressed flat.

Midnight looked back down into the bin to see Spell's back folding down onto her squashed chest and head. It was almost like the yellow mare was folding herself up into the bin. Her flattened out butt wobbled its way down into the bin to join the rest of the mare. Midnight caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a crowbar cutie mark flattened onto either side of Spell's two dimensional form.

Finally, the unicorn's hindlegs and orange tail were squashed down and flapped their way into the bin. The hooves had been squashed firmly together. They landed softly onto Spell's thin butt and she gently settled down into the bin as her own weight pressed her down slightly. A soft groan echoed from metal bin.

Midnight flipped the wringer's off switch and cast one last glance into the bin and the flattened and folded up mare that was inside before she walked back over to the laundromat's lobby. She needed to get to the Vangaurd before any more bounty hunters showed up.

A muffled, echoy cry filled the lobby, “H-Hello? Is anypony out there?! I-I thought I heard something!” Oh right. The stallion in the mailbox. Midnight looked down from Dry Linen's kicking rear hooves and to the still unconscious form of Docket Number. And the Justice of the High Court. She turned back around. Maybe there was a backdoor.

“Docket? Is that you? Please get me out of this thing!” she stopped. Why hadn't somepony gotten him out already? This was Canterlot for Luna's sake. Sure it was a Sunday, but it was still the business district. There had to be somepony around. She peeked out the large paned glass window. The polished steps of the High Court Building sparkled in the afternoon sun. Oh yeah, this wasn't exactly in the heart of the business district.

She grit her teeth. Fine. She'd help him, “Hang on.” She reached up and grabbed Linen's hooves.

“Oh, thank you. For a minute there, I thought I'd be trapped in here all day.” Midnight yanked his hooves, causing him to yelp in pain, “Wait! Stop!”

She let his legs settle back into the mailbox and looked at it. This was a really awkward position. The blue mailbox was up off the ground, in a doorway, and he was very firmly wedged in there. She could pull and pull but he wasn't going anywhere.

“Just stay there,” she winced at her own statement. He wasn't really going anywhere, was he? “I'm going to go get some help.”

“O-Okay.”

She jumped over top of Linen's hooves and walked out onto the sidewalk. She squinted and held a hoof up to her eyes to block the bright sunlight. What was she expecting? Of course Princess Celestia would show off in her capital. She looked down both ends of the street. Several old government buildings lined the road next to the High Court Building, their stone and granite facades cracked and worn down from years of wear.

One was even covered with this fantastic moss. She suspected it was Spanish moss, but mosses were kind of tricky. You had to be really close to—a gleam next to the building caused her to squint even more. A white pegasus stallion in gold armor trotted up the sidewalk. Just what she needed, some help.

She jumped into the air to fly over. Wait? What was she about to do?! She fumbled back to the ground and tightly clamped her wings to her back. She did not nearly just go waltz right up to a Royal Guard. She slammed a hoof against her face. After all she'd just been through, she had nearly blown it all away.

She turned around and looked to Canterlot Castle. It was starting to get late—four in the afternoon wasn't really that late, but for government employees ready to go home, it sure was—and if she wanted to get to the Vanguard, she needed to leave now. She started walking. Linen would be just fine. Somepony—maybe even that guard that was already walking in the direction—would find him and help.

But what if they didn't? Her pace faltered. What if he was trapped there all night hoping for help from a pony that would never return? Guilt started to eat away at her insides like an aphid on a tomato leaf. She stopped and turned around. Why couldn't she be more morally bankrupt? Like any bankruptcy, it would have probably saved her a lot of bits in the long run.

She walked over to the guard. Best not to strain her already exhausted wings any further. The road was dead but she still checked both directions before she crossed. It might be paranoia, but she was not about to be flattened by a renegade steamroller. She tried not to stare as she approached him. Didn't want to look too suspicious.

The guilt may have left, but its skittish friend anxiety decided to take up residence in its place. She nervously checked the buildings for an escape route in case the guard discovered her—and why wouldn't he? How many bat ponies were there? She was a little surprised he hadn't charged at her already.

The white pegasus noticed she was intently approaching him and trotted up. Either he'd find her out and she could spend the next six months as a decorative bat pony rug trying to suppress her morals, or he'd help her out The weather team must have really cranked up the temperature, because she was getting really hot.

He looked at her cheerfully, “Good day, miss. Can I assist you with something?”

Not exactly aggressively charging and trying to detain her, “Uh, yeah. There's this stallion over in the laundromat. I heard him crying for help and rushed over.” Lies by omission were the best kind.

The guard's face changed to one of concern, “What happened?”

“He's stuck in a mailbox.”

“What?” She'd probably have the same expression if somepony came up to her saying that.

“I know. I thought the same thing when I saw it. I tried to help him, but I couldn't get him out. He's stuck in there pretty good.”

The guard flared his wings out and took off, “Thank you for reporting this.”

Midnight smiled to herself as he flew toward the laundry, “Happy I could help. I just hope he'll be okay,” Once she saw he had landed at the brick storefront, she let out the breath she had been holding in. Thank goodness. She had been starting to believe everypony she bumped into was out to get her.

She looked in the direction of Canterlot Castle and started toward it. With any luck, she'd be able to do the noble and just thing and turn herself in before they closed and stopped handing out rewards. She heard the guard tending to Linen as she walked by the laundry.

“Stay calm, sir. A rescue team has been—Celestia's wrinkled hips! Is that the Chief Justice?!”

Midnight panted. She was going to file a very lengthy complaint. She reached the next landing and stopped for a moment. Sweat gleamed off her forehead. She peaked her head over the railing and the winding staircase that went down eight stories. Her head tilted up and gazed on the two additional stories of stairs. A very, very lengthy complaint.

Her hot and sticky wings peeled off her back and flapped gently to cool off. It was times like this she yearned for feathered wings. She resumed her slow trek up the metal staircase. The whole stairwell had that cold concrete feel of a place not meant to be frequented. The metal stairs. The empty concrete walls. The bare light bulbs. The massive red arrows that were painted onto the wall and pointed toward the ground floor.

It was very much designed and decorated for emergencies. When there was a fire and the elevator was broke. Or when the elevator was just broke and you had to trek up ten flights of stairs to get your hundred thousand bits. She reached the final metal grating and opened the heavy door that led to the tenth floor of Spire Five. She snorted. It was neither a spire nor was it the fifth one Canterlot Castle had. Spire's don't have emergency exits and sprawling offices.

She rushed over to the nearby drinking fountain. The delicious, refreshing feeling of lukewarm water with a coppery aftertaste filled her maw and just as quickly left it as she spit it out and let the drinking fountain run for a few seconds. It wasn't much better, but it would do. She could buy carriages full of Crystal Empire snowmelt with the bits she was about to make.

Her thirst was partially quenched. Now if only she could do something about the pain. Her legs and really most of her body was killing her. Her hooves throbbed with each step. Her wings occasionally would twitch as a shooting pain jolted them. Her knees felt like cooked elbow noodles. And her neck had a kink in it. After everything she'd been through the last few days, several years in a dungeon—or as a squashed flat poster—would be like heaven.

She looked over from the drinking fountain and at the office. She didn't really know what she had expected from the Office of the Vanguard. Maybe some rough and tough mercenaries or bounty hunters hanging out in a shady bar. Or a shadowy cloak and dagger type affair with… cloaks and daggers and maybe a few poorly lit conference tables Equestria's officials could meet around. It could have even been a full military organization with barracks and armored ponies marching around.

She should have guessed as a government organization it would have a typical bureaucratic style. Dry whites and grays. Artificial lighting. Several rows of identical, uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Obviously fake potted ferns—nothing made her more perturbed than fake plants—at the end of the rows. They were a mockery of everything good and hallowed. Was there nothing sacred anymore? No levels that ponies wouldn't stoop? If they were so worried about watering than just get some mother-in-law's tongue for Luna's sake.

She was interrupted from her internal ranting by the clerk who sat behind a wooden-framed window near the elevator with an “out of order” sign taped to it, “Hello, ma'am. How can Equestria's Vanguard be of service today?”

“Oh. Hello,” Midnight apprehensively walked up to the window—they were the ones trying to capture her, after all, “I would like to, um, cash in a bounty.”

The clerk furrowed her brow, “Oh?” she looked behind Midnight at the drab carpet and empty chairs, “I don't see anypony to turn in. Are they outside or currently being detained somewhere?”

“No, no, no,” Midnight giggled nervously, “You see, I'm collecting my bounty. I'm Midnight Dream.”

The clerk stared for a moment, before one of her hooves reached under her counter to press something, “You're... You're collecting your own bounty? Isn't that just turning yourself in? I don't think we're in the business of rewarding criminals,” She jumped slightly, as if remembering something, “Ah, alleged criminals.”

So much for rewarding good deeds. Midnight adjusted her painful wings. Was it getting hot? There was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling that was starting to bubble up within her, “W-Well, yes, but I was informed that, given my—” she cleared her throat, “—unique situation, the Vanguard would be more than happy to honor its bounty provisions.”

“Whoever told you that was mistaken. We only pay bounties to registered bounty hunters or those otherwise authorized by the Office of the Vanguard.”

“O... Oh,” This was such a stupid idea. Why would she have ever thought it was a good idea? Literally walking right into the waiting hooves of the government. She might as well go to Ponyville and parade around Princess Twilight's oddly designed castle—a home made out of a living plant was so much better. Maybe she could still salvage this, “In that case, I-I'm sorry I wasted your time. Won't happen again.”

She turned around and quickly made her way toward the stairway door. It wasn't her fault a hundred thousand bits was too good to pass up. Anypony would try to get that kind of cash if they could. Once she was down the stairs and out of the building, she'd make a beeline out of Canterlot before the—just as she was approaching the door, three Royal Guardponies walked in from it blocked the doorway, and stared at her.

How did they even get in? She didn't see anypony in the stairwell when she walked in. She heard the receptionist from the other side of the room, “Oh no, Miss Dream. Please stay. The Office of the Vanguard is always happy to assist in capturing wanted ponies.”

Okay, so this had gone horribly wrong. It wasn't too bad though. She'd taken out nearly half a dozen Night Guards. Say nothing of the airship. All she needed to do was find a rolling pin or something and—the flash of a teleport spell revealed six more Royal Guardponies, five pegasi who were now pointing their spears at her and the cursed unicorn that had brought them here, who was now looking like she was going to cast a—uh oh.

Midnight tried to roll out of the way of the spell, but she'd been through so much. The airships. The bounty hunters. She just couldn't keep it up. The spell clipped her flank and she fell to the ground with a wince, her butt tingling oddly. What had it done? Was it compressing her into a cube? Forcibly flattening out her butt? A comically oversized magical ball and chain clanged to the ground, secured to one of her rear ankles.

It wasn't a rolling pin, but it would do. Midnight tried to whip herself around and use the centrifugal force to knock over a couple of the guards. She jerked to a stop. The ball remained firmly planted on the floor. She tried pulling and yanking at it but it refused to budge. It was really heavy. If she had a week of rest, maybe she could whip it around. But after days of fighting, flying, and climbing stairs? There was no chance. Her hind legs had resigned in protest and wouldn't be moving anything. Midnight looked in desperation at the unicorn, who now wore that smug, arrogant smile unicorns got when they thought their magic was so much better than everypony else's.

Seeing their fugitive firmly secured and exhausted, several of the guards moved in to place restraints around her ankles and wings, “Midnight Dream, you are under arrest by order of Her Majesty, Princess Twilight Sparkle. You may remain silent, and if you do not remain silent, what you say may be used against you.”

She gulped nervously and looked at the receptionist, “I—I'd like to file a complaint. Your help line provides very inaccurate information... and you need to get your elevator fixed.”

End of Chapter Nine

Author's Note

Merry Christmas!

That end scene with the Vanguard was originally in Chapter 8, but I decided to expand it out to include a bounty hunter fight in Canterlot after Chapter 8 ticked over five digits in length.

The drainage pipe scene originally was going to happen to one of the female Night Guard, but I thought of the dirigible fight and decided to merge the Night Guard mare flattenings to cut down the word count. The drainage pipe was moved to this chapter as a result.

Midnight vs. Justice (Part 1)

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter Ten: Midnight vs. Justice (Part I)

Midnight stared out the train window and into the fields and farms that made up the outskirts of Ponyville. She didn't have a very comfortable seat—and it wasn't just thanks to the hard, wooden bench she was sitting on or the two Royal Guards that sat on either side of her. She was sitting in a Royal Guard prisoner transport. The windows had iron bars on them, the doors had several locks fastened to their heavy oak edges, and nearly a dozen Royal Guard—from pegasi to unicorn—sat strategically around the train car.

She shifted slightly in her seat and looked at the various guards that prevented her escape, “You know, I can understand the shackles,” The shackles around her legs were just as chaffing and restricting as all the novels and plays had made them out to be.

“And the wing bands are an obvious must for restraining any flying pony.” She had been shackled before—some attempts to earn some bits were weirder than others—but she'd never had wing bands on her. The tight leather straps resembled, and she had the sinking suspicion were, belts. They prevented her from flapping or even moving her wings and, given how delicate and sensitive wings could be, were orders of magnitude more uncomfortable than the ankle shackles.

“I even get the mouthguard,” she licked her fangs, which were now securely covered by a plastic mouthguard. There'd be no fruit sucking or new pony capes for her.

Midnight warily looked up above at the object that was casting a shadow on and around her, “But I'm really failing to understand why you guys need that.” Hoisted precariously above her via pulley was a large trapezoid-shaped weight. On it's side, printed in bold white letters were the words “1 Ton.” Where on Luna's planet did they get something like that? What purpose did a one ton weight even have? It was something you'd only see in a foal's comic or a weird story.

One of the guards looked over at her with a smirk, “Do you like it?” Midnight glared at him in response, “It was suggested by the Arcane Magic Council as an 'Emergency Protocol for the Containment and Successful Capture of Ponies Trained in the Art of Transmogrification.'” The guard took a deep breath, “Archmage Morning Star just loves naming his procedures,” he said flatly.

“If you try to move—even a little—Corporal Corporeal over there—” The guard motioned to a very eager earth pony guard who sat next to the rope that held up the weight from squashing Midnight flat. The rope was tied to a metal loop bolted to the train car's floor, “—will cut the rope and we'll get to see just how flexible you can be. So I'd advise not trying one of your fighting routines or we'll be delivering a bat pony-themed doormat to Her Majesty.”

Midnight gulped, “Right. Don't try to escape. Got it.”

“Good.”

The train continued to chug along on it's way toward Midnight's fated meeting with the Princess of “Friendship”. What had she done to deserve this? Okay, the technical answer was turn the Element of Loyalty's trap against her and then cash in the tightly compressed mare for a sack of bits she used to pay off her cottage for a few years. A few years of stress free bills. A few years of being a bat pony throw rug.

She gulped. Why did she deserve that? She couldn't help but think back to that Sports Weekly interview. Maybe karmatic field theory really was a thing and she had cashed in the last of her karma with the Dash fight? She did have a great deal of good fortune so far. It seemed she had been able to just win every fight. All that karma had finally been used up. She gulped. Knowing her luck, she now had a karma debt. One only an incredibly powerful, angry alicorn could pay off.

The train suddenly jerked and the squealing screech of the wheels filled the cabin. Midnight's eyes nervously focused on the weight that now swayed back and forth above her. That rope was certified to hold that much, wasn't it? It really didn't look like it was. And it wasn't as though the Royal Guard were terribly concerned about keeping her safe. They'd probably prefer it if they had to peel her off the floor and carry her folded form to Princess Twilight.

The guard peeked out the window before turning to Midnight, “Looks like we're here. Time for you to pay the piper.”

Several of the guards prodded her. She glared at them as she stood up and was led out of the train car. At least she wouldn't have to deal with any one ton weights. Until Twilight hypnotized her, that is. Her wings fidgeted in their tight leather bonds. She had to find a way out of this.

The bright Ponyville sun caused her to squint when they stepped onto the train platform. Several gasps and excited chatter filled the platform. Off to her left, a large group of ponies had gathered and gawked at the fanged prisoner from behind a line of caution tape that was being guarded by a white pegasus.

“I-Is that really her!?”

“I've never seen a bat pony before!”

“Yes, you have. Remember Princess Luna's visit?”

“I can't believe somepony like that could take out Rainbow.”

“The horror! The horror!”

Midnight couldn't really blame them. Not much happens in a small town like Ponyville, so this was probably a really big—wait, didn't Nightmare Moon return here? And Discord? And Tirek? She looked to the excited ponies, two of whom had apparently fainted from the amazing spectacle of a pony being escorted off a train.

Maybe the ponies in this town had been driven mad from all the craziness over the years. Or there was yet another monster lurking in the town that was secretly controlling everypony. It would certainly explain Princess Twilight's behavior.

The guards that flanked her led her into the train station proper. Midnight looked around. It was no Fifth Street Station, but it definitely fit the small town that was home to it. It was just an administrative office with a ticket window. There weren't any benches, or bathrooms, or atriums full of exotic plants. There were just a few desks, filing cabinets and a wall safe. Several chairs lined the wall opposite the desks, in the event a lost foal or hooligan from a train happened to show up at the station.

Sitting on one of the lightly cushioned chairs was a dark blue pegasus mare. Her face was obscured by a special midweek edition of Sports Weekly which had the silhouette of a bat pony in crosshairs as its cover. Midnight scrunched up her nose. No doubt Justified Text would be skimping out on paying her for that particular cover.

One of the guards cleared his throat and the mare peeked her head out from behind the magazine, “Ah, so this is her?”

“That it is, Miss Glider.”

“Excellent.” the mare tossed the magazine down onto a chair next to her's and jumped into the air. She flew over to Midnight and hovered above her. Midnight shifted uncomfortably from one pair of hooves to the the other as the mare looked her over. Ever since Night Terror, she just didn't like it when ponies stared at her. Especially when they were this close.

The mare smirked after a moment of staring, “So, you took out Rainbow Dash, did you?”

Midnight stared flatly, “What do you think?” she struggled against her bonds for emphasis.

“Since you asked. I think your greed's finally caught up with you,” the mare landed and walked around Midnight as she continued, “And now it's time to cash in all that karma just as you cashed in all the suffering of the ponies you beat.”

Midnight groaned, “Don't tell me you're buying into that? I get it. She's mad I defeated a friend of hers and wants a little payback.” She looked back over the wing bands and shackles that were tightly strapped to her body, “But abusing her princess authority? Possibly flattening me as some sort of twisted punishment? That's way beyond payback.”

“So you think this is all about you, huh? I should have figured. What about Dry Linen and Chief Justice Number—you know he's still got a bruise from that punch? What about the crew of the Dreamscape—do you know how scared the families were when they first heard about the crash? What about Doppler Radar and Tropical Cyclone and the hundred thousand bits of property damage you did to their Cloudsdale home? And what about little Dawn, who cried for weeks while her big sister Echo recovered?”

Midnight winced. Ouch. That might have hurt more than being flattened would. But still, it wasn't her fault. Well, not all her fault, “It takes two to have a fight. Who do you think was right there along side me, hmm? Some goons rubber stamped by the Vanguard. The Night Guard's very own forces. The Captain of the Wonderbolts. Luna above, Echo herself! So don't you dare pin all the blame on me.”

“I'm only pinning the blame you deserve. Even you admit you're at least half responsible. All of your opponents have already paid the price for their participation. Now, it's your turn. Speaking of,” Night Glider pushed Midnight forward, causing her to stumble, “You have a meeting at the castle to get to and you don't want to be late. Princess Twilight's got a thing about being tardy.”

Ponyville was a very pleasant village. Midnight had always thought Hollow Shades was small, but the forested town was just that—a town. Ponyville was just a small village, very much like those she saw on her trek to Canterlot that dotted the landscape and hugged the railroads. Thatched roofs, dirt streets, and little to no infrastructure defined the locale.

Of course, she'd find the setting much more pleasant—especially that huge apple orchard nearby that would make Mr. Tree envious—if it weren't for the guards. She glanced back at the two armored pegasi that flanked her before shifting her gaze back in front to the dark blue pegasus that was leading the way toward that really out of place looking castle.

Seriously, all those cottages and thatched roofs, and you drop a piece of the Crystal Empire right in the middle. Princess Twilight really needed to fire her architect. Or at least repaint the thing so it didn't look so hideous. But she was a gardener, not a designer. Maybe purple crystals were all the rage these days and were the new “in” thing.

The tree-shaped castle grew ever closer. Off to her side, a small group of townsfolk that were busy examining a cart full of what had to be yams paused and stared at the bat pony prisoner as she was led away. At least they didn't scream in terror or faint.

Night Glider looked back at her greedy captive, “Not very talkative, are we?”

“As I'm sure the wing bands and fetters can indicate, I'm not in a particularly pleasant mood. So there's not much to talk about.”

There wasn't much around the tree castle. It was like it had been plucked right in the middle of town without a thought. There was no courtyard, or grass—or any foliage of any kind for that matter. Midnight snorted in annoyance. What might be the last time she'd see the outside world before being hypnotized and squashed flat for months or maybe even years, and there wasn't a plant to be found.

Night fumbled with the front door for a moment before it opened. She gestured at one of the guards, who very kindly escorted Midnight in by kicking her in the flank. She glared at the guard as she walked in. Night walked in behind her and closed the door, leaving the guards outside, “Princess Twilight prefers security to remain outside.”

Midnight suppressed a smile. Works for her. Two less pains the flank she'd have to deal with if she escaped. And she really should start plotting her escape. All she had to do was somehow get out of her restraints, make her way through a totally unfamiliar castle, and fly hundreds of miles out of Equestria. Of course, there was also the dark blue pegasus to worry about.

It was times like this she missed Bill and his manila envelopes full of information. She knew nothing about the mare. Judging from her slender build, she'd have to guess she was pretty athletic. Yet again, she couldn't be faced with a morbidly obese foe. Perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing. With the way things had gone, if the mare had been fat, she'd probably end up squashed into a cushion under her.

The two slowly walked down the main hall of the castle. It was eerie. The whole place was empty. There wasn't a table or pictures or anything. It was like it was brand new and everything was still packed away in boxes, “So... who are you exactly?” With no Bill, she'd have to get her information the old fashioned way, “I know about the Elements of Harmony, but last I heard, there were only six and there wasn't a dark blue pegasus among them.”

Night walked her over to a really uncomfortable looking crystal bench that sat next one of the walls and sat down, “I'm surprised you care.” Something was up. That bat pony only cared about bits. She was probably just trying to get her to lower her guard so she could pull out a mallet from behind her back.

She'd play Midnight's game, if only to stall until Twilight was ready to dish out her punishment, “You know about Starlight Glimmer?”

Glimmer? It sounded familiar. She thought she remembered Tower and some of the other Night Guard talking about it a while ago. It suddenly struck her, “Oh yeah, the one with the crazy cult town,” It had been all over the news back when it first happened, but like with any news story, it had faded from view once bigger, juicier stories hit the front pages.

Night glared at her for a moment, “Yes. That one. Well, I'm Night Glider. One of the ponies Princess Twilight and her friends helped when they happened across the town.”

Great. Just great. She was being guarded by a literal cultist. At this rate, she wouldn't be surprised if Princess Luna herself teleported in to deliver her punishment, “But that was way up by Manehattan. What are you doing in Ponyville?”

“Princess Twilight requested that I assist with Ponyville's weather patrol while those crazy Canterlot unicorns try to figure out a way to reverse what you did to Rainbow Dash. After everything they did to help us, how could I say no?”

What she did? She wasn't the one who put the enchantments on the bottle in the first place. It's not her fault Equestria's newest princess is apparently apt at forbidden unicorn magic. It's always unicorns with the forbidden magic. You never see a “forbidden weather system” or “forbidden plant” or “forbidden blood suck”—okay, never mind about that last one.

Midnight looked around the really empty looking corridor, “So, ah, when's the princess going to be executing her—” she gulped, “—judgment.” It was going to be enchanted wringers. She just knew it. It was that kind of gut feeling you get. Wringers or rolling pins. Some sort of cylindrical compression device. Enchanted with more of those forbidden spells only unicorns, and by association alicorns, had. At least she'd be hypnotized into enjoying it. As if that was a decent consolation prize.

Night Glider smirked at Midnight's apprehension. It was good to see the evil bat pony squirm a little after everything she had done, “Oh, Princess Twilight's currently assembling the Star Chamber. Once they're ready, you'll be taken in to face justice.”

The Star Chamber? The secret royal court that had absolute authority over any subject it wished to have authority over? The court that had no appellate feature? The court that made powerful ponies who'd normally escape justice disappear—or so the rumors went? The one that didn't really have trials so much as summary hearings? That Star Chamber?

Maybe she'd be forced into a bottle. Karmatic punishments were all the rage these days and it would be pretty easy to whip up a glass bottle and put another enchantment on it. She'd be trapped like Dash was, only she wouldn't have a dozen unicorns trying to find a way to get her out. She'd be lucky if anypony ever found out about the Star Chamber's ruling or her fate.

She had to get out of here. But that pegasus was like a hawk. She wouldn't let Midnight out of her sight. Must be that cult training or something. Midnight tried to casually look around the barren castle. It really wasn't a good design. Gaudy crystal, really bad coloring, and of course, no plants anywhere to be found. Not even some roots hanging from the ceiling—although that would probably be worse than having no plants.

There were also no obvious exits. The hallway she was in had many rooms connected to it but she hadn't memorized Equestria's castles' layouts. It was a crapshot. She could find the backdoor exit past one of those doors or the Star Chamber itself. There was just no telling what lay beyond their wooden frames. There was also the problem of the guards outside. She glanced down briefly at herself. And the shackles and restraints.

Night Glider looked at her lean prisoner. Just what was that bat pony up to? Probably plotting something devious. Who was she kidding? Of course she was. Midnight Dream always plotted, whether it was ways to make her opponents suffer or greedy schemes to get as many bits as possible. At least that greed had been her undoing—as it usually was for most villains. Trying to get your own bounty. There probably wasn't a thing greedier than that.

Midnight glanced over her shoulders at her wings. The wing bands wouldn't be an issue. They were just leather straps, after all. But the iron shackles are what really kept her trapped. She needed to get them off. Night Glider seemed to be in charge here, so she likely had the keys. Midnight gulped. She better have the keys. Otherwise, she had no hope of getting out of this.

She tried to eye the pegasus sitting next to her as nonchalantly and non-creepily as possible. The dark blue mare was totally naked. There wasn't a bag or pocket to be found on her. If she actually had the key, it must be in that white mane of hers or tucked under one of her wings. She just couldn't risk tackling Night and not getting the key. It was too risky.

“What are you up to?” Night stared at her with narrowed eyes.

Midnight hastily shifted her gaze to the crystal bench, “Uh, nothing. Just admiring the... crystals while we wait.”

“I'm sure,” She was definitely plotting to escape. It was a good thing Twilight had the only key to those shackles in the entire town. Still, Midnight had been able to slip out right from under the Night Guard's hooves. She didn't want to repeat the same mistake. It was always best to err on the side of caution.

“Alright, up you go,” Night grabbed one of Midnight's forelegs and pulled her off the bench.

Midnight's eyes widened in fear, “What!? No! It can't be time already?!” She still needed to find a bobby pin to pick the locks of her shackles.

“Oh no, the Star Chamber's not ready yet,” she wished. Knowing Twilight, she would probably take the next five hours arranging the stationary, “You're acting very suspicious. So I'm taking you to the castle dungeon. That way, I can rest assured knowing there's no way you can escape.”

The castle had a dungeon? She didn't know why she thought it didn't. It was a castle. Either way, this severely complicated her plan. Which, admittedly, wasn't much of a plan to begin with. But it was still better than just getting locked up until the crazy alicorn was ready to run her through a steam press.

Night grabbed hold and yanked her forward, “C'mon, Midnight. Don't make me get those stallion guards from outside.” Midnight numbly walked forward, toward a very stereotypical dungeon looking oak door, which had iron bars in place of its tiny window and several bands of reinforcing iron running across it.

“Thank Celestia we were near it,” Night mumbled as she opened the door. She had not been looking forward to trying to get the stubborn bat pony to walk halfway through the castle, “Welcome to the, uh, Ponyville Castle Dungeon,” Now that she thought about it, Princess Twilight never did tell her what the castle was actually called.

It was very quaint. The small room reminded Midnight of one of those western sheriff offices. On one side was a desk and chair with several lockers hugging the wall, and on the other, two jail cells, complete with iron bars, were carved into the wall like two little crystal caves. Midnight's eyes nearly popped out of her head and made her permanently blind when she looked at the cork board that hung behind the desk—or more specifically, the dozen or so keychains that hung on the corkboard.

Now was her chance, even if one of those keys wasn't the right one. She still had to take it. She was seconds away from being doomed to a flat fate. Night walked over to one of the unlocked cells and opened it with a clang, “In ya go.”

“Sorry, but I think I'll have take a rain check,” Midnight jumped over the desk. She landed on the chair and used it knock the cork and the key chains off the wall and to the ground. She hastily bend down, picked up the first one she saw and started to fumble with it to get it into the keyhole on her forehooves.

“What?!” Night stared slack jawed for a second before she grit her teeth in anger, “Oh no you don't!” She jumped toward Midnight, using her dark blue wings to give her a boost, “You're not slipping your way out of this!” Midnight had finished checking the first set of keys, threw it aside and picked up the next when Night slammed into her and sent the two into one of the lockers.

Midnight kicked the pegasus of her, sending Night stumbling back, before she grabbed another set of keys and tried to jam them into her fetters. It was impossible. Not only did she have to check where Night was at every few seconds, but just like with her front door, she just couldn't feed the key into the keyhole right. Then she had to flip it upside down—and what if it really was the right key and in her haste she botched unlocking it and tossed the key aside?

Night growled as she steadied herself. How could this happen? How could Midnight even be in a position where she could unlock her shackles? It was impossible. She glanced down at the corkboard and the “In Case of Emergency, Use Spare.” that was written on it. Damn Princess Twilight and her anal retentiveness. No doubt she had a third set of keys somewhere around here just in case somepony lost the spare.

She dove back at the bat pony. She needed to force her into that cell as fast as possible, before this really got out of hand. Midnight gasped and raised her shackled forelegs to brace herself for the impact. Night hit so hard, the metal locker broke open, but just like the rest of the castle, there wasn't a thing inside it.

“I'm not letting you get out of this, Midnight,” she raised a hoof over the dazed gray mare. “You're this close to finally getting your just desserts and I'm not about to let you slip away again,” she brought the hoof down and punched Midnight in her chest, “You've hurt too many ponies.”

Midnight once more used her hindlegs to kick Night off herself, “Keep telling yourself that. I'm sure it'll eventually justify all this.” She reached down and grabbed another set of keys. It wasn't ideal, and her panicked attempts to free herself might result in her tossing away the key that meant freedom, but what choice did she really have? With the restraints, actually defeating Night Glider was a near impossibility.

She jammed the metal key into the hole on her forelegs and twisted. The shackle popped off with a click. She quickly removed the key but just as she was going to undo her other hoof, Night once more tackled her to the ground, and forcefully batted the keychain away. Midnight watched it bounce and clatter over to the oak door before she looked up at the pegasus that loomed over her. She winced a little. That was not the face of a happy pony. Not at all.

“Somehow... somehow you still manage to get lucky. Even after all this—even after all you've done, you—heh—you still can somehow slither away,” Midnight responded to the comment by punching at the mare with her now free hoof.

Night cautiously backpedaled. No point in getting kicked in the chest for a third time. Besides, Midnight's key was on the other side of the room. So long as the bat pony stayed behind that desk, and the key stayed in front of the door, she'd be fine.

Midnight glanced over at the door. She'd gotten this far. No point in stopping now. She grunted as she leapt from off the ground and over the desk. Despite her athleticism, she was unable to fully clear it, especially with her wings bound and unable to give a much needed boost. Her hindlegs clipped it and sent her tumbling end over end. She grunted when she hit the hard stone floor.

“Horseapples!” Night followed Midnight over the desk, using her wings to easily clear it, and landed right on top of the sprawled out and wincing bat pony before she had a chance to reorient herself. The two rolled around on the stone floor, jabbing and grappling each other in an attempt to gain the upper hand.

Night was able to wrestle Midnight and pin the mare down underneath her. Midnight, having a lifetime's worth of experience with pinning, struggled to slip out from under the pegasus. Night punched Midnight in her soft underbelly several times in an effort to stop the squirming, but it had no effect.

This wasn't going well at all. She wasn't a fighter. She didn't have months of experience fighting Night Guard and Wonderbolts. Midnight slipped a hoof free and started to punch her in her ribs. Night looked up at the door, “Guys! I need a little help here!” She knew it was a futile gesture. This was the castle's dungeon. The walls and door were designed to absorb the rowdy yells of prisoners.

Midnight was finally able to knock the pegasus off her. As she stood up, she quickly grabbed the keychain from off the ground and jammed the key into the other lock. Her forelegs now free, she turned her attention to her still shackled hindlegs. Hopefully she was lucky enough for the key to work with both sets of shackles.

The key wouldn't even give her the false hope of fitting into the keyhole. She sighed, “Of course not. I could only be so lu—oaf!”

Night slammed an elbow into her chest, knocking her back into the solid oak door. Midnight slumped to the ground in a daze. Night looked down, “Finally. Now to get you into that cell before you manage any more slippery tricks.”

The dark blue pegasus squatted down and hoisted the heavy bat pony onto her back, “Yeesh. You weigh a ton, Midnight.” After making sure the still disoriented bat pony was secure, she started walking over to one of the jail cells, “You should lay off the mangoes.”

“I'm more a watermelon fan, myself,” Night gasped as Midnight wrapped a foreleg around her neck and started to apply pressure. She was finally going to be able to choke out an opponent. No wringers. No presses. No mallets. Just real fighting techniques. It was about time.

Night rolled to her right, right into the pointed corner of the desk. Midnight yelped in pain and let go, allowing the pegasus to crawl away, gasping for breath. Midnight wobbled to her hooves and hobbled around the desk, picking up the first set of keys she could. Back to hunting for keys. This time, with a sore back to show for her progress.

Night stood back up, “I'm getting you into that jail cell, Midnight. You're only leaving this room suspended in Princess Twilight's telekinesis,” She once again tackled the mare and the two once again slide into the dented and broken locker.

Midnight kicked at the mare that was grabbing onto her, “Yeah, ask Major Shadow and Night Terror how well their demands went,” she'd been able to try another set of keys before Night attempted round four—or maybe it was five? She wasn't exactly keeping count—of her wrestling, but made no progress with her rearhooves.

The two twisted and grabbed at each other, occasionally slamming a hoof or belly against the desk or wall in the tight space. Midnight knocked Night against the wall and before the mare could recover, landed several good blows to her stomach and muzzle. Night stumbled back several feet to regroup. Fighting a mare like Midnight was a huge mistake. She needed help. If only that damn dungeon door actually locked. So much for a dungeon.

Midnight took the temporary fighting reprieve to grab the next set of keys she laid her amber eyes on. She tried several times to fit it into the shackle on her rearhoof, but her shaking hoof caused it to miss each time. Each attempt became more panicked and faster as the threat of Night attacking once more increased.

“Luna above,” she muttered before it finally slipped in. With a twist and a gasp of horror from Night, the shackle slide off of her chafed ankle. She quickly undid the other hoof while Night was busy picking her jaw up off the floor. Hooves now free, she kicked the shackles and chains away from her legs and looked up with a smile. Now she could finally get out of there.

“So, do you know any good coffee places around here? Didn't get the best sleep last night and then this whole bat pony escort mission was thrown at us at the last minute.”

The white armored pegusas looked up from notebook he was doodling in, “Nah, this is my first time in Ponyville. Princess Twilight's never been one to have actual guards. All that modestly, you know?”

The other guard snorted, “Yeah, nothing screams modestly like a giant tree shaped castle made out of sparkling crystals.”

“Well, modest, militarily,” he looked side to side, as if there were ponies about on the dirt streets in the midday heat who could hear him, “And between you and me, I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

The first guard stared with shocked, wide blue eyes, “Why? This town's great. It's so quaint and rustic. I'd love to retire here, maybe buy a cottage next to that lake we saw when we flew in. Taxes would be pennies compared to Canterlot.”

“And do you know why the taxes are so cheap?”

“Well, just look,” the guard gestured to the town center, “It's a small town. The roads are so primitive, you have to go miles outside of Canterlot to even find anything close. And have you seen a school? Because I haven't.”

The other guard shook his head, “No. It's none of that. Nightmare Moon, Discord, Tirek, the Everfree Forest—it's a nightmare cloaked in thatched roofs and farms. You couldn't pay me to live here. It's bad enough having to work here—but live here?” he emphatically shook his head, “I'd rather be that bat pony right now.”

The first guard shuttered, “Really? I wouldn't. Did you see that wringer they brought in earlier? I never thought they made those things with dozens of rollers on 'em. Can you imagine getting forced through one of those? I'd rather face Nightmare Moon any day.”

The thought of getting squashed ever flatter by a series of rollers made the other guard pause in thought, “Yeah, maybe you're ri—”

The golden front door of the castle burst open. The two guards jumped in shock and turned around, “What!?”

“Huh?”

Midnight jumped over the steps and landed in between them, “'Scuse me,” she ran down the path toward the still deserted town center.

The two guards looked at each other in confusion for a second before Night Glider charged out of the castle and stopped, “We've got a problem. Go tell the princess the prisoner's escaped.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the guard ran into the castle, leaving his notebook on the step.

The other guard looked at Night, “Do you want me to assist in capturing the bat pony?”

“No. It's my fault she escaped. I'll get her myself,” she flapped her wings and hovered off the ground, “Besides, Princess Twilight will likely want some kind of a perimeter established and there's only a few guards in the town.”

He nodded as she flew off in pursuit of the bat pony.

Midnight raced into the heart of Ponyville. She glanced back at the castle to see Night flying after her in pursuit. She needed to lose the pegasus and get out of there. The cottages and shops shot past her as she raced by them. This town was small. Really small. She turned down an alley tucked between some kind of furniture and feather store and a house.

Unlike the tightly packed buildings of Canterlot or the structured suburban layout of Hollow Shades, Ponyville's builders just seemed to have constructed their buildings wherever they could plop them down. The alley—okay, it wasn't much of an alley. More like a gap between two buildings—spit her out into another wide open street. One which had dozens of stands and carts.

The dozens of ponies in the market froze the instant they saw the wanted fugitive. Midnight sheepishly grinned and chuckled, “Eh, heh, heh. Does anypony need a gardener? It's my special talent,” Several screams of terror resounded followed shortly by some of the ponies fainting. Okay. If she ever got out of this, she could cross Ponyville off her list of possible employment locations.

She leapt over a cart full of carrots and ran through the street. Many of the ponies shrunk down in fear or outright fled. Those that didn't only glared at her, “This must be that 'tight knit community' everypony raves about,” she muttered to herself as she ran through the market. She glanced behind her and up in the sky to see Night's dark blue form streak toward her.

Great. With all these ponies panicking the second they saw her, there was no chance she could slip away through the back streets undetected. Time for a new plan. She looked back at her now unbound wings. Thank goodness those leather straps hadn't been locked and where as easy as a belt to remove. She slowly peeled her wings from off her back.

She flared her wings wide open and winced as the bones cracked and popped from stiffness. Bat wings were sensitive things and were never designed to be restrained like that. She slowed to a stop and carefully rose into the air. A few days without flying and having your wings bound against your back will make a pony a tad more cautious on that initial takeoff. She smiled and glanced at her leathery wings. Just as good as they'd always been. She could only hope they wouldn't cramp up.

Midnight flapped her now free wings hard. She needed to get as far away from Ponyville as possible. First, she needed to lose Twilight's lackey. She scanned the area for some way to shake the blue pegasus. Why would a princess choose to live here? There was nothing but farms and trees for miles. She might be able to shake the mare in the woods, but no doubt the Royal Guard was being mobilized. If Night Glider didn't find her, a Guard patrol surely would.

She needed some other way to escape. A sudden thought entered her head—Ponyville. That was one of the towns that bordered the Everfree Forest. Everypony was scared of the forest, but she could see its joys. So many plants. So many uncontrolled plants. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little envious of earth ponies' abilities. They could do things she'd never be able to. They'd always have an advantage over her.

But the Everfree Forest was different. No pony had been able to master it. No pegasus control its weather. No unicorn tame its magic. And no earth pony uproot its plants. There, she'd be on equal footing with the earth ponies. It reminded her of Night Glider and that cult she had been in. Why hadn't that leader put their compound in the forest?

Oh yeah. The same reason Midnight had never actually made any effort to move to the Forest—it was a death trap. Well, near death trap. With the number of times Princess Twilight and the Elements had visited the place and returned unharmed and traumatized, it was definitely losing that “going to kill everypony” edge it had previously.

She heard the strained flapping of wings and turned her head abruptly to see Night Glider slowly gaining on her as they zipped through the sky. Several pegasi who were apparently managing the puffy clouds she forgot the name of—she was a gardener, not a meteorologist—made sure to steer clear of the pursuit. No doubt they had heard about what had happened to Rainbow Dash and wanted to stay as far enough away as possible from the mare responsible.

Midnight banked hard to the right and set her sights on the admittedly creepy looking forest. She'd slip away from the dark blue pegasus, hide under one of the big trees, not get herself killed by a monster, then sneak back to her cottage, grab what she could, and learn to enjoy the multicultural Griffo-Minotaurian Empire.

She glanced back again. After Spitfire and Rainbow Dash, it was strange not having a pursuer right on her tail ready to ram her to the ground. Night Glider may be athletic, but she was no Wonderbolt. She was just as slow as Midnight was. For once, she wouldn't have to strain her wings to the breaking point to get away.

The second—and that's not an exaggeration—the literal second Midnight flew from the grassy meadow into the dark and dreary forest, she felt a change. It was so subtle and yet so incredibly disturbing. Just a little tweak in the air. A little change in the density and temperature. Maybe not even something a unicorn or earth pony would notice.

But it felt wrong. So, so very wrong. Like an unnatural thing that slowly wormed its way into you and settled into your core. She nearly stopped in shock from it all. How could something so minor feel so bad? Unless it wasn't so minor. Far below, the gnarled trees and twisted vines could be hiding anything in their shadows. And if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn that some of those shadows were moving—even following after her.

No wonder Ponyville and Princess Twilight were nuts. They were living next to this place. Doubt quickly evicted fear and moved in. She could turn around. Right now. Just turn around and never look back at the creepy forest. Night Glider was right there. She'd be more than happy to take Midnight back. Then she could be flattened into a pancake and never deal with that tree over there that definitely didn't have the screaming face of a pony knotted into its trunk.

Night Glider seemed to have been just as affected by the Everfree Forest as she was, because the mare slowed to a crawl soon after entering. After a few moments, she shook herself and carried on after the evil and quite possibly insane bat pony that was now traveling into the heart of the Everfree Forest.

Midnight looked back at Night Glider and then down to the forest floor below her. She couldn't land now. Night Glider would surely see her. And, to be honest, there was no way she was about to land even if Night Glider wasn't right behind her. This forest just wasn't right and coming here had been a huge mistake. One in a long line she had made.

In the distance, the decaying ruins of what was once the shining capital of Equestria rose up from the leaves and branches. Even now, with it's broken windows, cracked and mossy stone, and rotted wood beams, it still shined as a refuge in the midst of the chaos that surrounded it. She could lose Night Glider there. She didn't really have a choice. It was that, or the forest.

She altered her course and flapped her wings harder to try and get some distance between her and Night Glider. All the while, the Castle of the Two Sisters steadily approached.

End of Chapter Ten

Author's Note

Once Chapter Ten crossed 15k, I knew it was too long. I blame the fetish scenes. They just kept on getting longer, and longer, and longer. So I split it into thirds to make things more manageable because I know I rarely ever read 17,000 word long chapters. As a result, there’s not actually any flattening in this chapter. Also, the alternate title for this chapter is “Midnight vs. Ponyville.”

And if you're curious, Twilight's castle is officially called the “Friendship Rainbow Kingdom Castle ~~Playset®~~.”

Midnight vs. Justice (Part 2)

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter Eleven: Midnight vs. Justice (Part II)

A suit of armor collapsed to the ground when a gray blur crashed into it. Midnight poked her head out of the pile of tarnished silver. She didn't really know what to expect from the long abandoned castle, but a virtually untouched snapshot of pre-Nightmare Moon Equestria was not it. She scrunched up her nose in the reflection of the armor's helmet before batting it off her chest with an annoyed huff.

The armor's silver helmet. Night Glider had just kicked her into something worth more than her cottage. Something that had been sitting around collecting dust for centuries. She looked around the corridor. Its high ceilings and rotted wooden chandeliers held suit of armor, after suit of armor. Shields, pikes, crossbows. All arranged like a showcase to show off the Princesses wealth and power to ambassadors and emissaries.

All a thousand years old and worth more than probably all the Benefactors combined. She snorted in frustration. All those fights, all those sleepless nights, all those Garbonzas—and all she had to do was come here and sell what she found at one of those fancy auctions. She would have made a killing.

She looked over her shoulder at the hallway's entrance. Night Glider had kicked her in here but there was no sign of the pegasus. As she walked forward, she felt her hoof sink down into the carpet, as if it had pressed something. Her eyes widened as she heard something above her. The chandelier broke free, revealing a comically over-sized anvil that plummeted toward her.

She rolled out of the way just as it slammed into the ground with an explosion-like noise. Bits of stone and dry, dusty carpet filled the hallway. Midnight flapped her wings and hacked as the dust settled, revealing the anvil embedded several inches into the stone floor. She gulped in relief. A second slower and she would have felt how comfortable it was to be under that thing.

“Drat. I thought that might work.”

“What?” Midnight turned around from the anvil to see Night Glider standing at the hallway's entrance.

Night Glider walked into the room, admiring the suits of armor, “Oh, you don't know that much about the castle, do you? Princess Twilight thought you might try something like this—what with the weather factory, the warehouses, and the military base. You do love those scenic locations—so she filled me in on this place.”

As Night Glider steadily approached, Midnight backed away cautiously, being sure to step around the iron anvil, “That's great and all but I'm not here for a tour,” she turned from the mare and ran toward the opposite opening of the hallway.

“I'd just be careful if I were you. The princesses had a thing for pranking each other back in the day. And what with being immortal and all, those pranks could get rather unique.” Night Glider gestured to the anvil. Midnight slowed to a stop. That would explain the anvil and pressure plate, “And once Nightmare Moon happened, Princess Celestia made sure to activate each and every one to discourage greedy souvenir seekers from drudging up the painful memories of the past.”

So much for taking the suit of armor, “Well, then. You should probably be careful and not try to catch me, if that's the case.” Midnight flapped her wings and flew off, narrowly slipping past the chipped archway at the end of the hall. Booby trap pressure plates couldn't very well activate if there wasn't a pony standing on them, now could they?

Night Glider grit her teeth. Of course Midnight would still run. That's all she ever did. Run, and never face the music for what she did. The dark blue pegasus took off in pursuit. Twilight hadn't told her everything about the castle, least of all the location of the traps, and Midnight did have a good strategy for avoiding them. Assuming they were all based around pressure plates, that is.

“Gah!”

“Yikes!”

Midnight and Night Glider corkscrewed through a pair of french doors, having just barely avoided a large wooden beam and pile of rubble that lay in front of the doors. Neither could control their flight and they both skipped across the floor before they crashed into the stone brick wall at the far end of the large room.

Midnight kicked the sprawled out pegasus from off her and glared at her, “I could have easily avoided that if you weren't so obsessed with trying to catch me.”

Night Glider wasted no time picking herself up and tackling the bat pony, “And you wouldn't be in this mess in the first place if you had just accepted your punishment.”

The two rolled around the large, empty room, wrestling and punching each other. On the far side, the windows had long ago shattered and the cold Everfree wind hollowed in from the courtyard, “Punishment for what? Not letting myself get stuffed into a bottle by forbidden magic? If Princess Twilight didn't want her friend tightly crammed into a bottle for Luna knows how long, she shouldn't have put the enchantment on it in the first place!”

Night Glider slammed Midnight against the cold, cracked stone floor, “The fact remains you broke the law. Why is that so hard for a greedy pony like you to understand?”

Midnight kicked Night Glider over top of herself and stood back up, “What law? The fighting league was perfectly legal. Sports Weekly even had a whole section devoted to it for Luna's sake.”

Night Glider jumped into the air and used the cavernous room to her advantage by zigzagging around like a fly. Her eyes stayed fixed on Midnight, “A Canterlot grand jury and the Attorney General think differently. If it was all legitimate, then just turn yourself in,” she smirked, “You'll have no problem showing you did nothing wrong.”

That mare's aerial acrobatics were growing tiresome. Midnight flexed her wings and took off in pursuit, “Yeah, right. I'm sure the Star Chamber is all about proof and innocence,” the two mare's bobbed and weaved around each other. While the room was large, it was still far too small for two ponies to have a dogfight, “You'd have an easier time proving Luna doesn't raise the moon than you would somepony's innocence there.”

One of Midnight's wings decided now was the time to murder her and clipped one of the chains that hung from the ceiling which had formerly supported the light fixtures. She winced as she tumbled to the stone floor. Even though there was a very lovely, if faded, Saddle Arabian rug there, it still was incredibly unpleasant when she skidded across it and into the hallway.

“Ouch,” she rubbed her back before picking herself up. Unlike other sections of the castle, this hallway was devoid of anything. No armor, no rugs, not even some pictures or shelves on the walls. It was just gray stone the whole way down. Either looters had ignored the booby traps and picked it clean, or time really had taken its toll on the castle.

“You really need to just give up,” Midnight didn't look behind at Night Glider but just rolled her eyes, “I'll even put in a good word with Twilight if you do. Sure, she's angry with you for what you did, but she's not unsympathetic. She'll be a little understanding, I'm sure.”

Midnight walked a little ways into the hallway before turning around, “I'm not giving up. After all the horseapples I've been through—all the sore muscles and desperate fights—I'm not just going to give up and hope that maybe Twilight will be a little 'understanding' over some Lunadamned thing that wasn't even illegal in the first place!”

“The only way I'm seeing that purple freak is if you peel my flattened body off a castle wall and take me there,” she slammed a forehoof down onto the stone floor, “Do you understand?” A click echoed through the hallway as the hoof sank down into a button. The bottom dropped out of Midnight's stomach. Why did she have to tempt fate like that?

Night Glider smiled, “Perfectly.”

Midnight flailed herself away from the button. She flapped her wings haphazardly, desperately trying to get every bit of extra speed, while her hooves struggled to grip the slippery stone bricks, just as two sections of the hallway's stone walls slammed together with several tons of force.

Night Glider's smile only widened as the dust settled to reveal the wafer thin gap between the two brick sections. It really was fitting that a mare like Midnight would end up like that. Somepony might even call it poetic justice. Now she just had to figure out how to scrap Midnight off the wall and she could present the pancaked bat pony to Twilight.

The sound of panting spoiled her thoughts. The two walls retracted with the metallic sound of chains clanking to reveal Midnight sitting on the other side, perfectly three dimensional. She wiped her forehead and sighed in relief, “That was close,” She looked down. So close, it had gotten her tail. Its flattened purple form stuck out straight and rigidly from behind her. The poor thing had been through so much the last couple days.

Night grit her teeth in annoyance. Midnight was far more lucky than any pony had any right to be. After everything she'd done, somehow she was still getting away with it. She always thought karmatic field theory was a load of unicorn nonsense and Midnight was living proof that her assumptions were right.

Midnight frowned. Despite her best efforts, her tail remained stubbornly two dimensional. She really needed a comb or some water to dampen and fluff it back out. Her thoughts on proper tail maintenance were interrupted by a grunt from Night Glider, who charged at her—being mindful of the button that activated the wall trap.

Midnight took that as an opportunely to jump into the air and race down the empty hallway as fast as her leathery appendages could flap. While the hallway had seemed long, it quickly sped by. Ah, the joys of flight. Night Glider had given chase and was right behind her. She looked anxiously at the stone walls. Her wings had a few feet clearance on either side, but it was still unnerving going so fast in such a confined space.

She slowed as she reached the hallway's end. Left or right? It was a split second decision. She pivoted in midair and sped to the right, Night Glider still behind her. A large, broken window caused her to immediately regret her decision. At least it was already broken. She'd been able to avoid getting cut by glass so far and she was keen to keep that record going right along side the “not being flattened into a doormat” record.

She briefly tucked her wings in as she slipped through the window and into the castle's courtyard. It was amazing the castle was still standing. The Everfree Forest unrelentingly besieged it. Huge gusts of wind battered the crumbling stone battlements. Tree limbs, small rocks, and other debris targeted the few still sturdy portions of the walls and towers. The clouds overhead constantly swirled and twisted around in seeming anger that the monument to pony civilization and the Princesses' order and harmony still stood defiantly in the midst of the untamable wilds.

Her speed slowed dramatically as she fought against the turbulent winds and occasional tree branch. A sudden bolt of lightning suggested this was just a prelude to a storm. “Suggested” because she just couldn't tell whether this was the beginning of a violent storm, or just another ordinary day in the Everfree Forest.

Midnight turned her head back to see Night Glider. The mare was having an even harder time in the howling wind and debris. Her wings struggled to keep her stable and she constantly shifted altitude as gusts came and went. A twinge of sympathy was ruthlessly imprisoned and executed. This was the mare that was trying to capture her, after all.

A gasp from Night caused her to jerk her head back around just in time to see a massive tree branch fly right at her. There was no way something of that size could have been kicked into the air. She didn't have to time to dodge and could only tighten her muscles in anticipation as the branch painfully crashed into her.

*********

Midnight opened her eyes to the sound of a torrential downpour and rumble of thunder. She lifted her head from off the wooden floor and looked around. A flash of lightning caused her blurred vision to focus in on the window high above. A window with a distinctive bat pony shaped hole in it. Outside the hole, she could see the rain and wind continue to pound against the castle, confirming her suspicion about a storm.

She sat up and flexed her muscles. Once again, it seemed she had avoided broken bones or bloody cuts. Despite her current predicament, she had to admit she had been remarkably lucky through it all. No broken bones despite all the crashes. No cuts for all the broken windows. No torn tendons or sprained wings with all the excursion. Now if only her luck could only get her as far away from Ponyville as possible.

With no injuries aside from a few tender spots on her forelegs, she looked around. The room apparently lay at the top of one of the castle's towers, if the high pointed ceiling above her and circular layout of it were any indication. It had a definite library feel to it. Shelves of books and scrolls wrapped around the room from a circular indentation in the center.

She stood up, causing the wooden floor to groan in protest. She cast a worried glance at the floor. A thousand year old decrepit castle probably wouldn't have the sturdiest of flooring, would it? She took several cautious steps forward, gently pushing against the stained oak boards with a hoof before placing her full weight down.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the bookshelves. The distinctive crescent moon cutie mark of Princess Luna was carved into each one. High above, a chipped and faded mural of the night sky was painted onto the domed ceiling. She gazed in newfound wonder at the tower's dusty interior.

It had to be Princess Luna's old library.

Who knew what lay on those shelves. Bat pony history was shrouded in myth, legend, and mysterious fires—which could never be conclusively linked to the Night Guard—that burned all traces of records. Did Luna create them during her “eternal night” phase to be loyal servants? Was it Discord twisting and warping anatomy? Were they there all along and were just tucked away in the shadows of the history books?

Maybe one of those scrolls or scraps of paper held the answer. The very expensive answer. Midnight smiled as she gazed over the bookshelves. Those nationalists would give her just about anything for solving the origin mystery—especially if it linked to Luna creating them. Then they could finally print that Lunar Goddess pamphlet they kept on talking about.

Surely Princess Celestia wouldn't get upset if one tiny, little book happened to leak out? It wouldn't even relate to Nightmare Moon. She'd make sure it was just about bat ponies. No painful memories to be found. Just a history book worth its weight in bits—multiple times over. She'd never get to collect her bounty, but this was the next best thing.

She flew over to the nearest bookshelf and grabbed a scroll to examine it. Another flash of lightning was quickly followed by a crash of thunder that shook the whole castle. She had to be quick. Not only was that storm getting nasty, but Night Glider was likely honing in on her location. There's no way a mare like that would have just given up.

Entranced by the lure of bits, she failed to notice the cutie mark engraving on the bookshelf and the elaborate rune carved into the floor in the center of the room light up in a dark blue aura when she grabbed the scroll from off the shelf.

A small pile of books, scrolls, and parchments sat next to one of the bookshelves. Frustration built within Midnight. Frustration that was increasingly being supplemented with hopelessness. There were dozens of bookshelves here and thousands of books. She let out a bitter sigh. It could take her weeks to sort through it all. It didn't help it was all written in some foreign language. It didn't matter if it was just Old Equestrian, it was still foreign to her.

Once again, it looked like getting out of debt and having some bits to spare was just out of reach. She was so close. All she needed was a little time, and maybe a degree in ancient Equestrian linguistics. But she didn't have either of those. She needed to cut her losses and get out of there before Night Glider popped in.

One last book was tossed onto the pile before she stretched herself out. Her back and several joints let out satisfying cracks. The wind and rain that continued to buffet the walls and windows reminded her that the storm hadn't let up one bit since she started her little reading session. She looked to a large set of carved wooden doors on the far side of the room, one of which had been knocked off its hinges and teetered precariously against the other.

She could make her way out through there and then try and sneak out of the castle on hoof. If luck were on her side, Night Glider would be stuck wandering the castle for hours looking for her and she could make her get away. She stood up and walked toward the door, only to suddenly freeze mid-step, “What the—”

She looked down at her chest to see a dark blue aura around her, “What?!” There was a unicorn here now? Since when? She tried to break free of the telekinesis but just like with Magic Spell, it was a futile gesture. In fact, it felt much, much stronger than the yellow unicorn's. She was lifted into the air and floated over to the center of the room, where the large rune that was carved into the floor pulsed and throbbed with a blue light.

Midnight tensed up, an icy feeling sinking into her core. A rune? And a very complex one at that. Or at least, it looked complex with all the stars, crescent moons, and strange symbols that were carved into it. She couldn't move her head but was able to glance over at a few of the bookshelves. The Luna cutie marks on them pulsed in rhythm with the rune.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. She gulped. This couldn't be one of the traps. It just couldn't be. She hadn't triggered anything! No pressure plate. No lever. No nothing. The telekinesis forced her into a sitting position but still held her a foot or two over the rune. No matter how hard she tried to move, she couldn't budge an inch.

The telekinetic force slowly started to tighten around her body. She gasped, “No, no! Wait! Y-you gotta stop!” She didn't really know who she was trying to plead with. It was a rune that was created centuries ago—probably by Princess Luna herself if the dark blue magic was any indication. It's not like it had any thoughts or sapience. It would squash her flat and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop it.

No! She'd reversed Night Terror's efforts. She'd compacted Rainbow Dash into her own bottle. She'd stopped a whole Night Guard force complete with dirigible. She'd... never been under this much pressure before. She groaned as her muzzle started to scrunch down against her face from the force of the telekinesis.

She flexed her lean muscles in an attempt to buy time. She could fight against the magical force for only so long—especially if it was Princess Luna's magic—before it finally overcame her. An alicorn powerful enough to move the heavens definitely could squash a pony like her as flat as a sheet of paper in no time at all.

But she bought herself precious seconds. Seconds she could use to craft one of her trademarked crazy plans that somehow succeeds against all odds. Her muscles certainly weren't happy about it, but they'd just have to live with it. It was either a little strain, or become a floppy flat bat pony, and she wasn't about to become the later.

She shifted her increasingly panicked gaze down at the rune. There had to some way to disable it. Maybe she could somehow hit it with something. Her eyes darted around before she winced. The telekinetic force continued to build and her muscles were already starting to strain in the fight against it. She could feel her legs start to compress from the intense crushing pressure.

M-Maybe Night Glider would walk in? She groaned, both from the pressure and from her own false hopes finally imploding in like her body was about to. Who was she trying to fool? She couldn't move at all, her muscles were in a futile battle against alicorn magic, and if Night Glider did walk in, she'd just sit and laugh while spouting about how her greed had been her undoing—which it had been, but that was beside the point.

The telekinesis had now fully flattened her muzzle against her face and, seemingly satisfied that it had flattened part of her out, refocused its full crushing force onto her forelegs. She tried to move them, pull them free, even just twitch them a little. Anything to try and save them from getting turned into a pair of muscular, light gray ribbons.

She grunted as her forelegs, from the hooves right up the shoulders, were effortlessly squashed flat and the telekinesis once again refocused onto her hindlegs. The pressure quickly increased and she winced as she felt her leg muscles wave the white flag and join their foreleg comrades in cardboard thinnness. Was it really doing this? Slowly squashing her flat one body part at a time? It couldn't just get it over with in one crushing move?

As if to answer, her lean stomach and back were the next targets of the rune's alicorn magic, “Urrrgh,” it had to be several tons of force. There was no way that wasn't thousands of pounds of pressure. She futilely flexed her abdominal muscles to try and fight against the dark blue magic, but her stomach and bellybutton were flattened out with little effort on the part of the rune.

Without skipping a beat, the tremendous pressure slowly shifted up her increasingly flat body and acted like a roller. The rest of her stomach and lower back crumpled down under the pressure and joined the rest of her new, two dimensional body. Relief momentarily washed over her as her leathery wings were tightly pressed and flattened against her back. They were just too sensitive to be flattened out sprawled wide open.

Her fluffy gray chest and shoulder blades were slowly flattened out as the magic continued to creep up her body and toward her head. Finally, her shoulders folded up and were flattened out by the telekinesis and her entire body was now pressed flat. She'd put up the best fight she could, but it was no match for ancient alicorn magic.

In one quick motion, the force slammed down against her head, “Heerggh!” The purple bangs of her mane were neatly pressed against her face, while her amber eyes glazed over from the several tons of pressure that was now pressing against her whole body. Her mouth was open in a toothy, fanged smile that was just as flat as the rest of her body.

Why wasn't it stopping? She could very clearly feel that several tons of alicorn magic had effectively down their job and she was just as flat as any of her opponents had been. She'd be lucky if she could wobble away when this was all done. So why was it still squashing against her? If it kept up for much longer, she'd be so flat, she could effortlessly slip between the cracks in the wooden floor.

It was going to stop, right? This wasn't one of those manually deactivated traps, was it? She may be weak and in a daze from the pressure and new flatness, but the thought of being trapped under that much force for days or weeks shot right to her heart. Her body couldn't take this kind of pressing force forever.

After a few more moments of pressure, the rune seemed satisfied that it had flattened every part of the bat pony that dared steal from its Princess's library. With no more pony to flatten, it deactivated and the blue glow faded away. Midnight was released from the pressure and telekinesis.

With her wings tightly flattened against her back, she gently fell forward and flapped toward the wood floor below her. Her body wobbled and bent as it glided through the air before it rocked back and forth softly. She slide underneath a table and landed face down onto the cold hardwood floor. Her gray and purple body resembled a flat, soft throw rug.

“Ouugghhhh,” Midnight had just enough energy to peel her flat head off the floor momentarily. This had all gone wrong. So, very, very wrong. She looked around briefly before she let her head gently settle back onto the floor. She could sort this all out later. Right now, she needed to rest for a few minutes. Several tons of force will do that to a mare. No wonder most of her opponents didn't put up much a fight after they were flattened.

“Where are you, Midnight?” Water dripped from her still soaked blue wings onto the shredded rugs that she ran over. She grit her teeth in frustration as another lordly hall was as barren and lifeless as the rest of this Celestia and/or Luna-forsaken castle—it wasn't Twilight-forsaken since she had just recently come there, and while it was Cadance-forsaken, nopony ever seemed to mention the pink princess.

“Where are you!?” It should have been easy. The mare could have only been hit in one direction by the tree branch, but with the wind, and all that debris—then there was just that. That horrible feeling the Everfree Forest just oozed out. All that made finding where the mare crashed almost impossible. It didn't help that the castle was old and beaten down. She couldn't tell whether something was a bat pony shaped hole or just another thousand year old siege scar.

She raced down another endless corridor full of gray stone, cracked glass, and secrets long since forgotten. So she guessed and picked a building Midnight might have been knocked into. She really should have brought backup. It would have made this whole thing so much easier Why didn't she? Why did she go chasing after this mare when she could have just brought in a whole battalion of Royal Guard?

She stumbled over a tripwire before springing back up, “Oh, no.” A rumble caused her head to dart in the direction of the noise. A large, presumably incredibly heavy stone wheel rolled down the hallway, gaining speed as its inertia carried it forward. Night Glider wasted no time fumbling to her hooves and taking off. She wasn't going to let it end like this.

“Midnight!” When she found that bat pony, she was going to make her wish she had been flattened by that stone wheel.

Midnight slowly peeled her flattened head off the wood floor. How long had she been out for? Her squashed tufted ears twitched at the sound of rain still beating against the castle walls. Evidently not long enough for the storm to pass. As nice as it was being a gray doormat, she knew she needed to get out of there. The longer she rested, the more likely Night Glider would discover her and take advantage of her flat and floppy state.

Her forelegs were neatly folded up against her chest. She pulled them out from underneath her and lifted up her flattened body from off the floor, before she crumpled against the underside of the table. She snorted in irritation before she wobbled her way unsteadily out from under the table. Today just hadn't been her day.

Now she could survey the damage. Just how doomed was she now that she was thin as a pancake? She bent her flattened head down and looked at her side to see just how flat the rune had made her. It was a little hard to tell due to the gray fur, but her body appeared to be around a quarter inch thick. She looked up and down the thin gray line that made up her body. It also appeared she was pretty uniformly thin. She sighed in slight relief. With the amount of pressure that magic had put her under, she half expected to find herself so flat she could slip between the cracks of the floor.

As she looked down her flat body, her eyes came to a rest on her orange flower blossom cutie mark. What a memory that was getting it; although, much to her dismay, to this day she couldn't identify exactly what flower it was. Unfortunately, both her flank and the cutie mark that was on it weren't spared the crushing weight. She was so flat, that her cutie mark had been flattened onto both sides of her body. Half on one side, half on the other and a small quarter inch wide part stuck in the middle on what little thickness she had left.

Her hindlegs hadn't been spared either and had been flattened out in the sitting position that she was currently in. She bent them slightly and was relieved to find that she still had her mobility. The rune may have crushed her flat, but it hadn't turned her into an immobile bat pony poster. She wasn't quite ready to leave just yet—both due to still being in a daze from the flattening and from the fear that she wouldn't have the strength to do it. Best to just rest for a few more moments.

Her attention was next focused on her lithe belly. She slide a ribbon-like hoof against it. Her abdominal muscles had been just as flattened as every other muscle in her body. She was a little relieved to find her innie belly button still intact, albeit significantly shallower and flatter than it had previously been. With her lack of depth, she wouldn't have to worry about belly button lint again. Think positively, that was key at this point.

She bent her flat head up a little and looked at her gray chest. Her athletic build had always meant she was flat chested, but she had never thought it would be quite so literal. She noticed the subtle movement of her chest as she breathed. It rose and fell shallowly with each breath she took. Not even several tons of telekinesis and probably some sort of alicorn rune thing could stop her diaphragm.

Much to her growing frustration, neither her squashed shoulders nor her now ribbon-like forelegs and been spared the rune's pancaking power. She had hoped maybe some part of her body had withstood the alicorn magic. She looked over her shoulder and at her back, bending around her flat chest and upper body in the process. It seemed her body was considerably more agile and flexible than it had been before. Just like Spitfire had been.

While her back arch was still mostly intact, her back was no thicker than her belly and chest had been. Her leathery wings had been tightly pressed against her back like some kind of leather upholstery. She figured they'd be useless anyway. Flying would be next to impossible in her flattened state. She'd be at the mercy of the wind and would just flutter around like a sheet a paper.

She looked down from her flattened wings and noticed that her purple tail had been firmly pressed against her back by the force of the telekinesis She reached down a flat hoof and scrapped it's tip off her back. Once the tip of it was off, she grabbed it and peeled it off of herself. Her tail fell to the ground and gently settled onto the stone surface.

She had to admit she was tempted to mimic her tail and let herself float gently to the ground as well. Night had pretty much already won. She was flat as a pancake and there was no chance she could defeat somepony in that state. She shook her wafer thin head and straightened back upright. That was a horrible plan—even worse than turning herself in. Even if she had no chance, it was still better than waking up from her rest neatly rolled up like a rug on Night Glider's back, bound for a meeting with the Star Chamber.

She sighed in resignation. Every part of her—from her tufted ears, to her fangs, to her purple tail—had been squashed flat. There wasn't a single part of the athletic mare that had been spared. She was just as flat, maybe even flatter, as all her opponents had been. Even if she was able to escape Night Glider's grasp—a near impossible feat at this point—she'd be stuck as bat pony cutout.

At least she made for a pretty good looking bat pony cutout. She smiled slightly. Who knows? Maybe somepony would be willing to rent her as a sign or something. Signs were highly sought after and she'd be of the highest resolution possible. Not to mention bat ponies were all the rage these days. Her days as a fighter may be over and she'd never get her bounty but there was always opportunities to make some extra bits. She might yet be able to pay off her debts. Who ever said things couldn't turn out positively?

The old wooden door that was propped against the other one crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust, “Where are you, Midnight?!” Oh, right. The crazy brainwashed pegasus did.

End of Chapter Eleven

Author's Note

And so, the moment has finally arrived. The moment the protagonist is finally flattened. I passed over several opportunities to flatten Midnight earlier in the story just so this would have a little more impact. Hopefully it was worth it. It's also quite a bit longer of a descriptive scene than any of the other flattening scenes as a result.

Alternate chapter title: “Midnight vs. Everfree.”

Midnight vs. Justice (Part 3)

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the prologue.

Chapter Twelve: Midnight vs. Justice (Part III)

Night Glider smirked when she saw the wafer thin gray bat pony wobble in place, “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” It was certainly a delightful surprise. The greedy mare had been squashed just as flat as all her opponents had been. After all those near misses, a centuries old alicorn trap had finally caught up with her.

Midnight snorted. Just what she needed, somepony to rub salt in the two dimensional wound. She carefully stood up and assumed an aggressive stance very similar to the one Spitfire had taken after her flattening. No sense letting a good strategy go to waste. Granted, that strategy did end with the mare tightly compressed into a Wonderbolt cube. So perhaps “good” was a bit of a stretch.

Night chuckled as Midnight flexed her flat form, “Are you serious? You're flat as a pancake. I think you're letting that win over the Night Guard get to your head,”

Midnight shrugged her thin shoulders, “It's better than just throwing in the towel. I told you you'd have to peel me off the castle's walls,” she glanced over her shoulder and at her paper thin wings and flattened out back, “I may be flat as a pancake,” she looked back over to Night Glider, “But you still haven't peeled me off a wall yet.”

Night growled and flapped her dark blue wings, aiming right for Midnight. Midnight leaped to her right before crumpling herself down to the wooden floor like a pile of gray and purple clothes. Night Glider was unable to compensate and went flying straight into one of the bookshelves, which exploded in a cloud of splicers, paper, and dust.

Midnight flopped her head up from the folded up pile. Spitfire really did have some good strategies. Being flat greatly improved her flexibility. At least that was one advantage she had over the pegasus. She flexed her flattened out muscles and uncrumpled herself from off the floor. She wobbled and bent unsteadily toward the broken down library entrance.

“So, it's going to be like this, is it?” Night Glider tossed several old books and wooden shards from off of her belly and sat up, fanning her wings to clear the dust from the air, “Even after all this—after you're already getting punished for your greed—you still refuse to just accept it!” Upon seeing Midnight's thin gray form attempting to slip out the door, Night shot into the air and tackled her.

With Midnight's reduced size and thickness, she tumbled farther than Night did and was knocked into one of the bookshelves that was near the library's entrance. Night looked over at the flattened mare, “No! No more running, Midnight. It's time you face the music.”

Midnight shook her head and shakily stood up. She doubted she'd ever get used to having legs that thin, “No, it's time I leave. Just look at me!” she bent her head down and looked over her flat, gray body, “I've already faced the music. And I certainly don't need that purple alicorn making my flat fate even worse than it already is.”

Night grit her teeth and hopped up. Her muscles were starting to ache and throb from all this exertion. She wasn't a fighter. Tartarus, she was barely a weather pony, “Who said it would be worse? What you've done to yourself could be more than sufficient for a punishment.”

“I guess we'll never know, now will we?” Midnight slipped her squashed body out through the doorway Night had forced open. This fight had decisively swung in Night Glider's favor. She either needed to even the odds, or use her flat body to slip into a crack and hide. She gulped. Neither option seemed particularly likely.

Midnight stumbled her way forward. Her flattened leg muscles made it incredibly difficult. It was like she was learning how to walk all over again. It didn't help that her hooves were now thin and narrow and had much less grip than they did previously. In front of her was a large foyer that lay at the top of what had to be the biggest spiral staircase—or staircase of any kind, really—she'd ever seen. She peered over the rusted, ornate wrought iron railing. A large brass chandelier hung just out of reach. Its surface tarnished from centuries of neglect. Below it, the staircase winded its way to the tower's base.

With all her admiring, she'd forgotten about her pegasus pursuer until Night had slammed into her back and sent the two careening through the brittle railing. They grazed the chandelier, causing it to swing wildly from side to side and the chain that hung it from the ceiling to groan and creak, before they plunged down the hole in between the staircase.

Or, more accurately, Night plunged down. Midnight, now being paper thin, gently drifted and twisted down toward the ground. Her body curled and bent as she fluttered down. It was actually a very pleasant experience all things considered. One of the very few benefits to being squashed flatter than a pancake that she'd experienced so far.

She was snapped out of the peaceful drifting when Night flew straight up and grabbed onto her, “There! Now I've got you,” Midnight punched and kicked at the mare but with so little space between them and her hooves being as flat as they were, it was having very little effect. Night slowed and started to hover in place near the top of the staircase. She lightly batted at the flat bat pony with a hoof while keeping the other one firmly gripped onto her gray shoulder.

“I think it's safe to say I won,” Midnight snorted but Night ignored her, “Just think about it. You're wings are uselessly pressed to your back like a pair of tattoos; you're so flat, you could be mistaken for a Night Guard-themed blanket; and even if you do somehow get out of my grasp, all you'll do is flutter helplessly to the ground. This fight's over.”

The chandelier's chain couldn't take the rocking of it's namesake any longer and snapped, sending the thousand pound brass candle holder plummeting to the ground. Both Night and Midnight looked straight up in shock. Night was so shocked, she stopped flapping her wings and fell several yards before she hastily started up again.

With no time to think and desperate not to become the first pegasus to ever be squashed flat by a chandelier, Night shoved herself free of Midnight and lunged for the staircase. Several dark blue feathers were kicked free of the mare's wings in her haste and fluttered in the air in much the same way Midnight did.

Midnight's amber eyes widened before she winced. With her wings useless, she could do nothing as the heavy light crashed into her on its way to the ground. Hopefully—hopefully—her flat state meant the chandelier and impact with the ground would have a negligible effect on her body. She was already flat. She didn't want to lose all of her depth.

Night sucked in several panicked breaths as she leaned herself against the worn out and faded red carpet that was stapled to the stairs. She flinched at the sound of the chandelier crashing into the ground floor of the tower before she smiled. The smile lead to a weary chuckle. If that hadn't stopped the wicked bat pony, she was doubtful anything could.

She stood up and vaulted over the railing, before she spread her wings and glided to the bottom of the tower. At the bottom sat a twisted mess of brass and cracked stone. Her smile remained in place when she saw the flattened gray and purple form that was wrapped and folded inside of the mangled brass bits. It reminded her of a jail cell. Which was quite fitting given what Midnight had done. Never say nature isn't poetic.

“And with that, I think it's time to roll you up and head back to Ponyville,” Night bent down and grabbed onto one of the bat pony's cardboard thin gray shoulders, “I don't want to keep the princess waiting.”

Midnight suddenly flopped up her flat head and punched Night in the snout with the other hoof. Even in her thin state, she was still able to get some power in the punch. Night let go and reeled back, rubbing her nose. That stubborn bat pony just didn't know when to quit. Not even a heavy chandelier had stopped her.

Night growled when she saw Midnight slip free of the makeshift brass cage she had been trapped in. Not only hadn't the light fixture stopped the mare, it hadn't even pinned her to the floor, “Fine! If you want to keep this up, I'm game. You're already flat, so all you're doing is delaying the inevitable. You will face justice, Midnight. I'm going to make sure of it.”

Midnight stretched her flattened body out. It was good she was now so much more flexible or she'd never have been able to escape from that chandelier. Yet another benefit to being flat she supposed. She looked at Night and the archway that was behind the dark blue mare. Of course it was the only exit from the tower, “And I'll make sure you won't.” Not the greatest comeback in the world, but she was tired, flat as a pancake, and if she somehow did escape the cult pegasus, could now only make money as an athletic bat pony poster—the quality of her retorts was at the bottom of her list of concerns.

She charged at Night Glider. Being able to just fly over the stubborn pegasus would come in real handy, but alas, her wings were still tightly pressed against her back and despite her best efforts to unfurl them, they remained flattened out. They'd probably be useless in their paper thin state, but she'd never actually know at this rate.

Night braced herself. Her sore muzzle was a reminder that just because that bat pony was thin as a rug, it didn't mean she couldn't still put up a fight. Granted, it wasn't enough of a fight to actually stand a chance of winning, but it was still a fight.

Midnight leaped into Night. The impact caused her flat body to fold up and sent the two toppling through the archway and into the large hall on the other side. The two mares rolled over one another several times, jabbing and kicking at the other. It was a stalemate. Midnight's wafer thin hooves and legs lacked the depth needed to inflict much damage and Night's blows were easily absorbed by Midnight's flat and flexible muscles.

Their wrestling eventually caused the duo to bump into a suit of armor and knock it free from its stand. The gold armor clattered on top of the two, kicking off the thick layer of dust that had built up on its surface, and brought their rolling to an end. They both stood up and took several steps back from each other to regroup.

Midnight panted for air. She looked down at her thin chest as it quickly rose and fell. Her flat body just didn't have the same stamina it had previously. She couldn't keep this up. She looked back up at her surroundings. It was much larger and grander than a standard hallway. The hall had high ceilings and a polished floor of granite or marble or something fancy like that, she wasn't sure.

Several suits of armor and other military assortments lined the walls, almost like something one would find at a museum. On the walls, the tattered remains of tapestries and rugs were occasionally jostled by the drafts that blew in through the various holes and cracks in the stone. One of the tapestries near Night caught Midnight's eye. There appeared to be something behind it that was poking through. In a castle full of booby traps, that seemed awfully suspicious.

Night was also panting, although not as hard as Midnight. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she was at a disadvantage too. Midnight had been in over a dozen fights—with the Night Guard, with Rainbow Dash, with the Captain of the Wonderbolts—and what had she been in? She'd never fought another pony before. This was her first time ever. Midnight had all the experience. She had nothing but a few quick pointers and a dozen how to books from Princess Twilight. The sooner she could end this, the better.

“Enough of this, Midnight. I'm giving you one last chance to give up, nice and peacefully, before I bring this to a close,” it was sort of a bluff. She'd been trying to being it to a close for hours. But she still liked the idea of giving the criminal bat pony an opportunity to do the right thing.

Midnight rolled her eyes in response. Running away wouldn't work. Night Glider was just too persistent and self-righteous to let her slip by. Her only realistic chance was to even the odds and end this fight the old fashioned way. She glanced over at the tapestry for a moment. It might be nothing. It might just be a loose brick or a torch holder. Did she really want to risk it?

She jumped into the air and lunged at Night. The pegasus braced herself for more rolling and kicking but the impact never came. Midnight skidded to the ground several yards away. She'd been too far away and had overestimated her flat body's trajectory. Night smirked at Midnight's clumsy attempt to kick her, “Ha! You missed.” Getting squashed flat might have improved the mare's flexibility, but it crippled her aiming abilities.

“I wasn't aiming for you,” Midnight reached behind the tapestry and pulled what luckily for her was a lever. Several mechanical clicks were muffled by the stone walls.

Night Glider's mouth fell open in horror just as two large stone blocks that made up a portion of the ceiling directly above her slide out of place and plummeted down. She remained firmly planted on the stone floor, frozen in shock. How? How could this happen? The evil bat pony had basically been defeated. She'd won.

Midnight smiled widely as she watched the heavy stone blocks slam down on top of the dark blue pegasus. The impact shook the whole castle, causing dust and chips of stone to drift down from the ceiling and walls. She may be stuck flat as a pancake, but that didn't mean she couldn't take her adversary down with her.

She wobbled her way over to the large stone blocks. There was a narrow gap, no more than a half inch thick between them. They both had several large cracks running through them, no doubt from the impact with the unyielding stone floor. She felt a little sorry for Night Glider. The poor pegasus would be tightly flattened underneath the heavy blocks for a while. She made a mental note to leave a note in Ponyville so they could retrieve her would-be captor.

But now it was time to get out of there. She walked over to one of the large holes in the hallway where a window had formerly been. She looked out. The storm outside had finally died down to a drizzle, but the clouds still swirled and writhed above. She looked down to the ground that was several stories below before she tried to peel her paper thin wings from off her back, but they were still firmly tattooed in place.

She grunted. It would likely be impossible to fly given her cardboard cutout state, but it had still been worth a try. Anything to avoid walking around in the dark Everfree Forest, where all manner of beasts and shadows lurked just out of view. She flopped one of her flat hooves around. It would be even worse with her body in the condition it was in.

“Uuuuuggghhhh.”

What was that? Midnight bent her flat head around to see. It sounded like Night Glider. From between the two stone blocks, a paper thin dark blue leg slide out. This was quickly followed by a white tail and hindleg. Night Glider slowly slipped her squashed flat body out from between the two heavy stone blocks.

Midnight could only stare on as Night Glider became caught by some part of the stone block, half her flat body free. She should be trapped under several tons of pressure, not tugging her flattened out flank free. How could she have possibly been able to slip between them? Midnight was glad the dimensions had been evened, but she could have casually strolled out of this place. Now, she had a equally thin opponent to deal with.

Night Glider grunted as she finally pulled the rest of her hindleg free from the crushing pressure she had been under. She bent her flat head down and stared at the thin dark blue line that was her body. She'd been hit just as hard, if not harder, than Midnight had been. Her forelegs were neatly folded up and flattened against her chest. Her slender belly was now much more sleek and slender than it had previously been.

She bent her head down to stare at her side. Like Midnight, her crescent moon cutie mark had been partially flattened onto both sides of her squashed flank. She looked over her thin outline and then back at the gap between the stone blocks. She'd been squeezed tightly between them and was now well under an inch thick as a result.

Her wings had splayed open in panic just before the stones had squashed her and were now fully open and fully flat. They were like rigid pieces of dark blue cardboard. She couldn't fold them back down. At least not naturally. Her new found flatness ensured she was just as flexible and wobbly as that evil bat pony that was standing near her gawking was.

Night growled when she turned her flat head and glared at Midnight's equally flat form, “You. You...You fiend. Look what you've done now?!” Night flexed and bent herself forward, slipping several feet closer to Midnight.

Midnight looked over the now flat pegasus. Her thinness and general athleticism really reminded the bat pony of Spitfire. The mane style certainly helped, “I've only evened the playing field. Now you're stuck just like me,” She might be able to work this to her advantage. Maybe reset things, “We could call a truce. Flop our way back to Ponyville, find an air pump or bellows or something, and get ourselves back in shape. Then we can start this fight back up again,” and she would definitely not flee at the first chance, “What do ya say?”

“Bite me,” Even with her snout as flat as it was, Night Glider was still somehow able to snarl quite well.

Midnight shrank back a little. So much for that idea, “I would, but you're already a pancaked pegasus. I don't think there's much to suck out,” Hindsight being what it was, she really should have just taken the vampire option at the get go and sucked Night dry the second they walked in the castle. Yeah, it would have been breaking one of the biggest taboos around, but she wouldn't currently be mimicking a bat pony cardboard cutout and would have won.

Night Glider slowly flopped her flat form away from the stone blocks and toward Midnight, who edged away from the approaching pegasus. Midnight quickly glanced behind herself to see the hallway they were in stretch out behind her. What was it with this castle and hallways? It was the warehouse thing all over again. At least she had plenty of space to work with.

“Please, Night. Neither of us can win like this. You can punch me and I can kick you all we like. With our bodies as flat as they are, it'll have no effect,” Midnight demonstrated by punching herself in the belly. Her body bent back from the impact while her hoof crumpled and folded up, “See? It's pointless. Let's just go back to Ponyville and reset things.”

Night had peeled her forehooves from off her chest and continued her slow advance toward the bat pony, “You say it's pointless and yet you defeated Spitfire, didn't you?” she looked up at the rotten wooden beams that supported the ceiling, “There's more to this castle's booby traps than just stones and boulders. There's bound to be something around here that'll compress you right down into a nice little bat pony cube.”

She looked back at the thin gray fur of Midnight's body, “Or maybe I don't even need that. All I need to do is knock you out or weaken you just enough to roll you up like a poster. Then I can just carry you back to the princess.”

Without warning, Night sprang from her spot and tackled Midnight. Midnight grunted as the two flat ponies rolled and flopped their way down the stone hallway. Midnight kicked at Night with her rear hooves, causing them to fold up slightly with each impact. Just as she expected, they had little effect due to their pancaked state and lightweight, but still had enough kick to cause Night's flattened hooves to slip free of her body.

Midnight jumped up and tried to run. She needed to regroup and reassess things. Her legs fumbled and wobbled. You have to cut her some slack. Running was vastly more difficult when your legs and hooves were thin enough to slip between the cracks of the stone floor. And being more flexible was great for dodging indoctrinated pegasi, but it made for lousy muscular support.

Midnight briefly looked over her shoulder to see what Night Glider was doing. The equally flat dark blue mare had popped up and was chasing after her. She was encountering the very same issues Midnight was, but pressed on in her pursuit anyway.

The two ran down the hallway. Rotten wood beam after beam passed by. The windows to the pairs' right gave way to heavy stained oak doors, each with a rusted iron handle. Midnight's lungs were on fire. And it had only been a few seconds. She was starting to understand the issues Spitfire had had. Being flattened was not the most prudent athletic choice. Night was gradually narrowing the gap and if she didn't do something quick, they'd be back to rolling around on the hard stone floor.

She looked at the doors as they passed by. Why not? It was worth a shot, and if she could time it just right, it might delay Night Glider enough to buy her some extra time. She suddenly veered toward the next wooden door, Night following right after her. Rather than risk trying to open a rusted, thousand year old door, she leaped foreleg first and slide her lithe, squashed body right under the crack at the bottom of the door.

Night's eyes widened in panic. She was still thinking three dimensionally and hadn't thought of something like that. With no time to follow Midnight under the door, she tried to slow her rapid speed. She slammed into the heavy door face first with a thud. Her flat body crumpled and folded against the door's surface in an instant. A few seconds later she slide down to the floor, still folded up.

“Ouch.”

Midnight smiled widely at the sound of Night's impact as she peeled herself off of the ground. That couldn't have gone better if she tried. She looked around but could only see blackness. Unlike every other room or hallway in this castle she'd been in, this one had no windows and any artificial lighting had burned out or been drained of its magic long ago.

Her smile only grew wider. Once Night Glider peeled herself from off the door, she'd find herself stuck in a pitch black corridor or room with a bat pony. Her eyes had already started to adjust to the darkness. It wasn't a room but another hallway. This time much smaller. More like an ordinary hallway than one of the massive ones she'd been in. Small cracks of light streamed in from around the door she had slipped under. Farther down the hallway, additional doors revealed themselves thanks to their cracks of light.

Night Glider slowly slide her head under the door, “Aha! Th-There you are, M-Midnight!” She peeled herself off the floor and wobbled unsteadily up, “N-Now I've got you!” She shook her flat head to try and clear it of the fogginess before looking out into the darkness.

Midnight couldn't help but let a chuckle slip out, “Oh? Are you sure about that?” She had already slide her thin body around to Night's side to position herself better.

Night growled as her pegasus pupils desperately dilated to suck in as much light as possible. Still, her vision remained black. She had been outplayed with the little doormat trick and now she was being out maneuvered. Never underestimate the lengths an evil pony will go to escape justice.

Seeing the pegasus squint and look around in slight panic, Midnight punched the mare in her chest. Her hoof crumpled against Night's equally thin blue body, but still knocked her back against the oak door. In response, Night swung her forelegs wildly in wide arcs, hoping to make contact with the bat pony, but Midnight had pressed her squashed body against the floor like a rug to avoid Night's counterattack.

“What's wrong, Night? I thought you had caught me?” Midnight inched herself along the floor several feet away before peeling herself back upright. She had to be quick about this. Night's vision wouldn't be blocked forever. Her eyes would eventually adjust. She'd toy with the pegasus a bit to confuse and distract her and then make her getaway while Night was punching away at the darkness

Night took several aggressive steps forward, glancing to and fro for signs of the bat pony, “I should have expected this sort of thing from a pony like you. Hiding in the dark and taking cheap shots. Not even Nightmare Moon would stoop that low,” Buy time. That was the name of the game now. The longer she could keep Midnight in the hallway, the sooner her eyes would adjust to the darkness.

Midnight tackled the pegasus cutout. Night yelped in surprise before trying to grab hold of the flat bat pony and restrain her. Midnight slipped out of her grasp and and her thin form faded back into the darkness. Night Glider still smiled. She was starting to see more and more. The light that poured in from the cracks in the doors grew brighter with each minute.

Night took several more steps into the hallway, “I honestly was expecting more from you. After Spitfire. After Rainbow Dash. After The Night Guard. This is how you're going to fight?”

Midnight rolled her eyes, “Well, your expectations are far too high.” She charged up to Night before swiveling around and bucking the mare in her stomach with her powerful but thin hindlegs. Night flew back several feet from the impact before crumpling to the ground like a pile of clothes. Midnight smirked when she saw the result of her kick. Time to go.

She started to wobble her way down the hall. She bent her head to look at the doors that lined the hallway. All she had to do is pick one to slip underneath of. Hopefully it would lead out of the castle and to—she stumbled as a forehoof depressed one of the stones that made up the floor. Icy fear seized her at the clicking noise that reverberated from the button.

“Uh-oh.”

She tried to jump out of the way, but her paper thin hooves slipped and she fluttered into the air just as the two walls slammed together with several tons of force. The force of the impact blew Night Glider back, causing the disoriented pegasus to flap into the air and float several feet back before gently settling back to the ground.

Night popped her head up from the ground a moment later. She smirked when she saw the faint outline of the heavy stone walls firmly pressed together. And no sign of the evil bat pony. She flopped herself upright and approached the wall trap. Through the darkness, she could just see the narrow gap between the two heavy walls.

The walls slowly retracted back into place with the loud clanking of metal chains. Night's smirk grew into a wide smile at the sight of the flattened bat pony that was plastered against one of the walls. She looked back at the door they had both slipped under. You can't fully savor victory in total darkness, now can you? She wobbled her flat body over to it and grabbed hold of the rusty metal knob.

She stumbled back in shock as the oak door effortlessly slide open. Huh. Given its age, she'd expected several minutes of yanking and cursing various body parts of Princess Celestia. Light from the larger corridor they had been in poured in from the open doorway. She looked back to the flattened bat pony.

Sure, Midnight may have already been flat, but the trap had made certain there was no doubt and no chance that a part of the bat pony had been spared. Her hooves were sprawled out, with one of her forelegs flattened out against her chest. Her mouth was open in a toothy, nervous smile. Several of her purple bangs had been flattened against her head, while her eyes were open and glazed over from the tons of pressure that had just been pressing against her athletic body only moments earlier.

Night walked up, being careful to cautiously check each step before applying too much pressure. The last thing she wanted was to re-trigger the trap and be squashed flat right up against the bat pony. She looked over the bat pony poster. Midnight didn't appear to have been flattened out much thinner than she already had been. But she had certainly been knocked silly by it and that's what mattered.

She reached up, “Well, Midnight. I'll be peeling your flattened body off that castle wall now.”

“Oooaaaghhhhh.”

“Couldn't have said it better myself,” she started to scratch at Midnight's tufted ears, “I guess this means I finally won,” one of Midnight's tufted ears peeled off and folded down over her squashed face. Night grabbed onto it and pulled hard, slowly peeling the flattened pony off the wall, “So much for that undefeated streak.”

She held up Midnight's flat body by the ears for a moment to admire it, before she started to tightly roll the mare up head first like a scroll. She had to be sure the mare's flat body was really tightly rolled and secured. She didn't want Midnight slipping out of her grasp due to some fluke. She made sure to fold Midnight's thin, gray forelegs over her chest so they neatly rolled up with the rest of her body.

Once the bat pony's flat rear hooves were pressed against the rest of her rolled up body, Night took Midnight's flat purple tail and wound it around the scroll-like bat pony several times like a string, being sure to tightly wrap up the mare's rear hooves, before she tied the tail into a tight knot to keep the gray pony firmly rolled up.

She placed the rolled up athletic mare onto her just as flat back before she started to wobble her way out of the hallway, “Now, where's the exit to this place?”

Midnight let out a muffled moan in response.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. Midnight tried to unroll herself, but she couldn't budge an inch. She was tightly rolled up and it felt like her tail was being used as a tie to ensure she couldn't unroll herself. Panic started to swell up inside her. If she couldn't get out of this, it would be up to Night Glider's good will to untie her. Good will that was currently flat as a pancake thanks to her. She gulped.

“C'mon, Night Glider. Y-You gotta let me go. Please.” What? It didn't hurt to ask. And she was never above pleading. She'd even done it with the rune. She felt Night Glider's thin form shift underneath her.

“And how many of your opponents pleas did you fulfill?” If her face wasn't currently pressed against the back of her own head, Midnight would have rolled her eyes. Night Glider smiled at the silence that resounded from the rolled up bat pony that rested on her back, “That's what I thought. You'll be freed just as soon as we're back at the Star Chamber.”

Oh, no. The Star Chamber. Midnight flexed her flattened muscles in an attempt to break her tail free and unroll herself. After several moments of writhing and wiggling, she relaxed. It was a futile gesture. Her tail was bound around her and tied tight. She wasn't going anywhere. At least she was already flat—caused by Princess Luna no less. She'd much rather it be by her princess then give that purple freak any satisfaction. She probably wouldn't even be tightly packed into a bottle now. Probably.

But she was still squashed flat and there were dozens of things Twilight could do with her. Visions of doormats, seat cushions, cozy bedding, or a decorative sign plastered right up against a glass window all danced their way through her head. She had to get out of this. She just had to, “Please, Night. Y-You don't have to let me go, just unroll me. You can walk me back to Ponyville. I-I won't try anything, I promise!”

Night Glider snorted, “Sure you won't. And Tirek won't try to sap Equestria's magic again if he was freed, either. You're all bound up and not causing trouble. Why would I want to make things harder on myself?”

“A challenge?” Even Midnight had to admit that was a pretty desperate response.

Night grunted as she pushed the thin dark blue lines that were her shoulders against the heavy oak doors that marked one of the castle's exterior doors, “You've been enough of a challenge for me as it is,” she walked out into the drizzle and turmoil of the Everfree Forest. Tree branches and pieces of Celestia knows what were strewn over the path from the storm that had once again failed to topple the ancient castle.

“Now I have to walk all the way back to Ponyville through this monstrosity of a forest. All while being so flat, it looks like I've just been on the losing end of a fight with a twenty ton rock monster,” Night's wafer thin hooves sank down a little into the soft, damp earth, causing her to wobble and flex her flat form with each step to try and keep steady.

“So you're not going anywhere. You can beg and plead and try to bribe me all you want. You’re going to Ponyville and you're going to face justice for what you've done,” Night shifted Midnight's rolled up body to prevent it from slipping off of her flattened, dark blue back.

The rain lightly soaked into Midnight's light gray fur like she was a rolled up towel. She really wasn't going to get out of this one, was she? She couldn't untie her tail, couldn't unroll her body, and couldn't smooth talk her captor. She was stuck and could only wait for the inevitable purple alicorn magic to unroll her flat body. She groaned.

“What am I going to do?”

End of Fight Club

Author's Note

And that's it. I decided to leave the ending a little open to allow for “personal fantasies.” So what Twilight or Night Glider does with the now flattened Midnight is up to you. And if you're worried about her, don't be. I'm sure the High Court will set everything right in time for the sequel I may or may not write. Of course, the High Court does take several months to issue its rulings, so looks like Midnight's stuck for a little while at least. And don't forget to check out Fight Club's deleted scenes. There's over ten thousand words worth packed full of abandoned plots, fight scenes, and, of course, flattening scenes—including two different ones of Midnight.

I'll say this, I don't care if it's a weird clopfic with weird fetishes, it's repetitive as hell, it's way too long, and it's gone over absolutely terribly here on Fimfiction—I had a ton of fun writing it. Especially all the narration, which is something I've never done before as most of my fics have been very dialogue heavy with “dry,” descriptive only narration.

Midnight vs. Government

For copyright/disclaimer information, see the Prologue.

Chapter Eight: Midnight vs. Government

“Everything's going to be fine,” Midnight raced around a corner so fast, the wagon tilted onto two wheels, causing the small pile of tomato seedlings and lockbox full of bits that were in it to tumble from one side to the other. She jerked to the right and forced it to settle back down as she galloped toward her small cottage.

“You were going to leave Hollow Shades anyway,” she slowed to a crawl behind a cart carrying boxes of fresh baked bread. She hopped from hoof to hoof anxiously before peering in the direction of the military base. Why was the cart moving so slow? Didn't the driver know what was going on? She leaned over to check if there were any oncoming vehicles before she yanked her wagon and quickly overtook the cart.

“This just gives you the incentive you needed to finally make the move and leave,” she missed her turn and had to slam on the brakes. The wagon painfully bashed into her flank as she skidded to a stop and slowly—agonizingly—backed up and raced down the quiet street her cottage was on.

“You'll have no debt, no fighting league, and no hundred thousand bit bounty to worry about,” she winced as she ran up to her fence gate at full speed. It was unlocked, wasn't it? The gate flew open and she barreled past it and slowed to a halt in front of her garden and the hole where Mr. Tree had once sat.

She unbuckled the harness that was strapped around her withers and was about to run inside when she paused and looked over to the garden. She bit her lip. This wasn't the time. She had far, far more important things to do. More important things than letting her plants know what was going on? She rushed over, “I'm really sorry, guys, but I'm in a big rush right now. It's really bad, though. You probably won't be seeing me for a while. I-I just hope you can make due while I'm gone and will always remember me, like I'll remember you.”

She usually reserved the big farewell speech for October when the cold fall air set in and spelled doom for the annuals, but this would likely be the last she'd see of them. Might as well use it now—or at least an abridged, footnotes version. The Night Guard would be breaking down her door any minute now, after all.

“Goodbye,” she turned around and ran inside. She glanced back one last time before shutting the door. The tomato, pepper, and watermelon plants stayed perfectly still and made no obvious movements to indicate their profound sadness at the lose of their caretaker and mentor. They were always so stoic and would never let their emotions show, but deep down, she knew they were just as torn up about it as she was.

She looked over the dozens of potted plants that filled the interior of her cottage. First thing's first. If she was leaving, she'd need to find a way to water them all. All these poor plants relied on her to give them life. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of them slowly shriveling up and dying in the hot, dry cottage as their final thoughts were of the evil bat pony who had abandoned them.

She walked into the small living room opposite to her kitchen and opened up a cardboard box that lay next to her wooden rocking chair. Good thing she had bought all those glass watering bulbs. What would she have done if she hadn't? She hoisted the box onto her back, using her wings to hold it in place, and ran into the kitchen.

“Almost... there!” she turned the faucet off and stared at the blue glass orb. The water had just reached the little “Full” line. She smiled. It was a pain at first, but after a few dozen of them, she'd mastered the art of filling small bulbs full of water. If she didn't already have a gardening cutie mark, she'd probably have gotten one in irrigation.

She walked into the bathroom and stuffed the bulb into the small desert landscape that sat in the window. She glanced in worry at the miniature cacti and ocotillo. They probably didn't need that much water and it might not even be that healthy for them. But she didn't have much of a choice. It was either that or they die. And she wasn't about to become the only gardener on the planet to kill a cactus from not watering it enough.

Just as she left the backroom, a knock at the door froze her in place. Oh no. No, no, no. She'd been so busy getting her plants ready, she hadn't even prepared. She had no bits ready. No socks. No train ticket. She remained firmly stuck in place as the door knocked again, harder this time. She could leap out a window and make a break for it. Those fights against Spitfire and Rainbow Dash had surely given her wings some added strength to evade the Night Guard.

She jumped from her spot and ran toward her bedroom. Just jimmy the window open and—

“Miss Dream? Are you home?” She stopped. What? She turned around and looked at her front door. Of all the ponies that could possibly be on the other side, Bill was not one of them.

She walked over to the door and opened it. It was only as she was turning the knob that the thought of the Night Guard using him as bait to get her out in on the open flashed into her head, “Bill, what are you doing here?” Please don't be a battalion of bat ponies standing behind him.

The brown pegasus that stood on her porch stared at her, a large wooden mallet rested precariously on his back, “Ah, Miss Dream. I take it you're aware of Her Majesty's recent speech?”

“Uh, yes.” Why did he have a mallet?

“Good. Unfortunately, as a result, we are going to have to place you on furlough while the Benefactors appeal her decision to the Royal Court of Appeals for the Distinct of Canterlot. The fighting league will be temporarily suspending operations while the appellate process occurs,” he shook his head, “It's a shame things had to end this way.”

She nodded, “So... no more fights?” she continued to eye the mallet. Given how most of those fights had ended, she was wary of any heavy object, or flattening device.

Bill sighed, “Even if they win the appeal, unlikely, with the current political climate. The UFL will most likely fold. I sincerely hope you got the most out of it while you could.” he smiled sadly, “I guess we'll never see about that championship, will we?”

As if she had been looking forward to fighting the best pony in Equestria. Even if it would have made her rich, “Yeah, a real shame. All good things have to end, eventually,” Midnight looked nervously at the large mallet slung over his shoulder. There was no logical reason he'd be carrying a mallet with him,” Uh, Bill. What's with the mallet? You nailing something down?”

“Funny you should mention that. It actually brings me to the other reason I'm here,” In one quick motion, he heaved the heavy object over his head and swung it full force at the mare. Her eyes widened and muscles tightened as she jumped out of the way—just in time to avoid a manhole cover-shaped fate. The mallet hit the floor with a resounding thud. The stallion sighed and shook his head, “It's a lot of money, Miss Dream. And since I'm furloughed just as you are, I need every bit I can get.”

Midnight stared at the mallet in shock, “You were going to flatten me?!” She then looked at him in anger, “You were going to turn me in?!” She wasn't sure which one upset her more.

Bill hoisted the mallet above him again. He rolled his eyes, “Please. Don't tell me if the roles were reversed and I had the hundred thousand bit bounty you wouldn't be trying to lure me into a wringer—tartarus, you'd probably put yourself in one if you knew they'd pay you the bounty.”

Midnight crinkled her nose at the accuracy of his statement, “At least I'd be more creative than using a mallet.” She mumbled out.

“Well I'm sorry for using such a primitive capture method but time is of the essence and a bulky mallet is all I could find. Not only will the bounty hunters be here soon, but you're little bottling battle has managed to embarrass quite a few in the military. I'm really surprised the Night Guard hasn't busted down your door—especially considering how close we are to their headquarters.” He smiled, “After Echo, Speck, and Night Watch, maybe they're a little skittish after seeing what you did to their soldiers.”

Midnight stepped around her foyer cautiously as he walked in. After Spitfire and Rainbow Dash, there was no way in tartarus she was going to be defeated by her lazy manager with a cheap hardware store mallet. She could even still see the price sticker on it, “Are you really going to do this, Bill? I've defeated the Captain of the Wonderbolts and an Element of Harmony.”

He looked at the mallet before twirling it with a hoof, “And I've seen all of your fights and was the one who prepared those little debriefings on you for your opponents,” he pointed it at her, “You're incredibly defensive, have a tendency to flee at the slightest provocation, and will usually find some contrived and highly convenient way to win at the last possible second—usually by exploiting the environment around you. I may not be as fit or athletic as you, but I certainly know all your moves.”

She wasn't that predictable was she? Wait, was he really pointing his only weapon at her? While holding it with a single hoof? She flexed her wings briefly before she flapped them hard and shot forward at the stallion. His eyes widened, “What?!” she grabbed onto the mallet and abruptly jerked it out of his hoof.

She hovered in front of him and smirked as she grabbed the mallet with her forelegs and thrust it over her head, “You were saying something about knowing my moves?”

Bill looked at Midnight and the mallet now in her hooves in fear, “Now, Miss Dream, I'm sure we can negotiate an amicable solu—wait!” Before he could continue Midnight abruptly swung the mallet down at him. As the stallion wasn't nearly as agile as the bat pony was, he couldn't dodge out of the way and the mallet slammed down, squashing him flat against the cottage's wood floor.

She picked the heavy wooden object up and a brown disk popped off of its surface and rattled to the floor. It figured the one time she was able to end a fight quickly was the one time she wasn't getting paid to do it. She leaned the mallet against the back of her worn out, stained couch and looked down at the flattened stallion.

He was flattened out in much the same Sky Fighter had been, with his eyes tightly shut and teeth gritted. While his cream colored tail was poking out of his disked body, his wings had been compacted down inside and weren't exposed like they had been with Sky. Midnight grabbed him off the floor and twirled him around like an oversized coin, “I gotta say, Bill. This definitely was the easiest fight yet. I'm so glad you saved it for last.”

“You—ergh—won't escape, Miss Dream. Half the Night Guard's looking for you by now. You should just turn yourself in and save all of us the trouble. Who knows? Maybe they will pay you your own bounty.”

Midnight snorted at the disked stallion, “I'm sure they will.” She walked over to her kitchen window and opened it, “It was fun while it lasted, Bill, but I think it's time I get a new manager. See ya.” In one quick motion, she threw the flattened out stallion out her window like a frisbee and watched as he wobbled off into the air.

She closed the window. Good riddance. He had always been a pain to deal with. Her slightly improved mood was spoiled when she saw the wooden mallet laying against the plaid couch. Even Bill had turned against her. Who else would be coming after her? It seemed she wasn't the only pony in the world who had a hankering for bits.

But not just bits. A hundred thousand bits. She sat down at her kitchen table. Was it just her, or was the room spinning a little? She hadn't really thought about just how much money a hundred thousand bits was. She looked down at her lean, muscular body. A gray body that was now worth six figures. No wonder everypony was suddenly after her. She'd be too if she knew a pony in Hollow Shades worth that. That was enough bits to fill a whole burlap sack full.

With her plants taken care of, she had to get out of here. She stood up and raced into her bedroom. Hollow Shades never really was right for her. A new life. New friends. New not-worth-a-hundred-thousand-bits body. Maybe she could dye her mane a light blue or something? Purple was so last season. Nature mane colors were unfashionable these days.

She opened her dresser and started fishing through it. She grabbed a pair of wool socks and looked up at the potted ficus that sat on her dresser, “What do you think? How many pairs of socks am I really gonna need in Griffia?” One of the ficus' leaves, rustled by the movement of the panicked bat pony, broke off and gently twisted down to the soil below.

“That's right. Griffia-Minoutary is kind of mountainous, isn't it?” She grabbed several hooffulls of socks and tossed them behind her onto her bed, “I'm gonna need my boots, too,” she opened her bedroom closet and dug around in the pile of cardboard shipping boxes and old gardening magazines until she hit the layer of shoeboxes, yanked one out, and opened it. She frowned, “No, that's the sandals,” she dropped back into the pile and grabbed another, “No, running shoes.”

“There we are.” Third try was the charm. She placed the boots onto her bed next to the pile of socks. Now to go fetch the dufflebag so she could actually pack. She leapt out of her room and ran into her cramped living room. Tucked between the couch and the single end table she had was her trusty duffel bag that had served her well during all the fights.

She yanked it out from its resting place and walked toward the bedroom when she happened to look at the mallet that still rested against the couch. Midnight bit her lip as she thought back to what Bill had said about the bounty. A hundred thousand bits was a lot of money. If the Office of the Vanguard had lax rules about paying it, well, she'd be able to fully pay off her cottage, have one less bill to worry about, and still have tens of thousands of bits left over with that kind of cash. Equestria did reward good ponies, and what could be as good as turning oneself in to face justice?

Of course, there was always the punishment to consider. But that wouldn't be so bad, would it? Some probation. Maybe a little community service. She suddenly gasped in delight. Maybe even gardening community service. Equestria's justice system was all about redemption and love and all that mushy stuff. Canterlot's dungeons barely got any use these days. At worst, she'd be locked away in a damp dungeon for a few years.

But a hundred thousand bits was still a hundred thousand bits. She was only making twenty thousand a year as a gardener. The fighting league had helped, but with Princess Twilight blowing a gasket, the days of the Benefactors helping her out seemed to be at an end. She could be locked away for five years before those hundred thousand bits would no longer be worth it.

Being trapped in a dungeon for years. With the moss covered stone walls as her only plant companion. That didn't sound pleasant at all. She shook her head dismissively. That was a worst case scenario anyway. It wouldn't happen, and even if it did—a hundred thousand bits is still a hundred thousand bits.

Now convinced, Midnight dropped the duffel bag onto one of her kitchen chairs and fumbled in one of her kitchen cabinets for the phonebook. Once she found it, she quickly flipped through the government section looking for the number of the Office of the Vanguard. There was no point in just turning herself in if she didn't get the bits, after all. She needed confirmation.

Number now in hoof, Midnight would face her greatest challenge yet—dialing her rotary phone. She had always been baffled as to why somepony would design an object that required hooves to operate, but also used tiny holes. It was the same thing with teacups. The hours of teeth grinding and frustration had probably given rise to hundreds of anti-unicorn groups over the years. And she couldn't really blame them. Stupid unicorns and their small hole manipulating telekineses.

Thankfully, somepony had also invented the pencil, which was a tiny hole's natural predator. After a few stalled attempts, she was able to dial the number. As the phone was ringing the other end a rustling noise from outside her kitchen window drew her attention, “What was that?” After glancing outside, she returned her attention to the phone. Must be a raccoon.

“Office of the Vanguard. How may I help you?” the female voice rang out from the other end of the phone.

“Uh, yes, I'm calling to inquire about the bounties you're offering.” Midnight fiddled with the phone's curly cord.

“Yes, yes. Her Majesty's speech has really stirred up a lot of interest. We've been swamped by inquiries today.” Great, just what she needed. Dozens of bounty hunters lining up to cash in, “I take it you're also calling about the Midnight Dream bounty?”

“Yes.” she nearly smacked herself. How was she supposed to ask about turning herself in without raising suspicion now? “I-I mean, in a way. I was—uh—wondering what exactly the Vanguard's rules are on paying bounties. Like, hypothetically, if somepony with a bounty were to turn themselves in, would you still pay out the bounty to them?”

The mare on the other end stayed silent for a moment, “Ah, hypothetically. Well, normally, no, the Office of the Vanguard only pays out to the ponies that do the capturing, but if this hypothetical mare were to have greatly upset the diarchy by disabling a pony very close to it, we might be willing to make an exception. Why do you ask?”

Midnight could swear she heard the smile in the tone of that question, “I, uh, I was just curious. Y-You know, one of those questions that just won't leave and—and the princess's speech just happened to bring it to the forefront of my mind again. That's all.”

“I see. Well, we're always happy to answer questions, and just remember: all bounties are paid in cash. So you can quickly and easy pay any debts you may have.” Midnight winced. Never ask a “hypothetical” question, you might as well scream “This isn't actually hypothetical!”

“Thanks for answering my question.”

“You're welcome.”

Midnight hung the phone up and sat down at her kitchen table. If they actually paid her a hundred thousand bits, she'd be set. All her current money troubles would be over. Of course, there was the little issue of the justice system, but she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. First, she had a trip to Canterlot to prepare for. She smiled as she grabbed her dufflebag. If she was turning herself in, she wouldn't be needing it or her socks. There was no need for desperate packing. Maybe, just maybe, things were looking up.

A knock at the front door broke her good mood. Why'd she have to think positively? It would only end badly. She walked to the front door as all those news articles and talking heads discussing her karma rang through her head. She opened the heavy oak door, “Hello?”

On her porch stood two Night Guardponies, both decked out in armor, “Hello, ma'am. We're here to serve an arrest warrant for one Midnight Dream. She's wanted for felony battery, false imprisonment, and illegal use of a Class Red restricted enchantment.”

At least Princess Twilight hadn't tacked treason on the list. Midnight smiled apologetically, “She's in the other room. I'll go get her.”

The two guards glanced at each other, “That won't be necessary. We'll get her.”

“Oh, no. I insist,” Midnight slammed the door shut as fast as she could before locking and then dead bolting it. It wouldn't buy her a lot of time, but maybe she could still grab a scarf and—a strange low buzz caused her to turn around from the door. Four armored bat ponies, including the two that had just knocked, phased into the room from the shadows around her living room and kitchen.

“Oh... that's right. I forgot about that umbric teleportation thing,” The door knocked again. Resigned to her fate, Midnight unlocked and opened it. An armored gray mare with some fancy rank insignia attached to it now stood where the two stallions had previously. Judging from the snug fit of her light purple armor, the mare had a very similar athletic build to Midnight's own.

“Good afternoon, Miss Dream. I'm Major Shadow with the Night Guard. By order of Her Majesty, Princess Twilight Sparkle, you're under arrest. Now, we can do this the easy way and wrap all this up in time for dinner, or you can make things difficult. The choice is yours.”

Midnight glanced back into her cottage at the four bat ponies as a desperate plan formed. Despite the reputation the Night Guard had—that they were Equestria's special forces, that they assassinated the enemies of the princesses, that they served as Princess Luna's fanatical praetorian guard—the two mares and two stallions didn't seem to have heard about that reputation.

Only two of them were actually looking at her. Both seemed to just be idly looking at her, as if it was just another boring mission in the dull quest for a paycheck. The other two were too busy admiring all the wonderful plants strewn about the kitchen and living room to pay any attention to the wanted fugitive they had been dispatched to capture.

Could she really do it? Could she fight a whole detachment of Night Guard? She lived next to them. Worked with them. Occasionally played wallyball with them at the rec center. They were just normal ponies, not some secret elite taskforce. Echo, Speck, and Gloom Wing had all proven that. Sure she'd defeated them, but five-on-one? She wouldn't bet on those odds even if she were guaranteed to get her money back.

But it was either try and take them on or she surrender, get locked away in a dank dungeon for a couple years, and miss out on a hundred thousand bit bounty. She looked at Major Shadow, “I guess I choose 'difficult,' then,” she slammed the door on the shocked bat pony and turned around.

The four guards in her house looked up in sudden shock. This was just supposed to be a simple arrest and recovery. They weren't even really supposed to be here and were only brought it to ensure the Night Guard wouldn't be embarrassed that Equestria's most wanted mare was able to escape from right next to their headquarters.

As Shadow was reopening the door, Midnight grabbed the mallet that was still propped up against the couch and charged at the hapless stallion who was sitting across the room. The stallion's eyes widened and his leathery wings flared out in panic as he saw the crazy gardener running at him, “Wait, what are you doi—aeruk!”

Midnight slammed the mallet down on top of him, flattening him against her wooden floor. His armor made a metallic crunching noise as he was flattened down. His leathery wings were sprawled out on either side of the mallet and twitched in pain. Midnight lifted the mallet from off the floor and turned to the other shocked bat ponies. She heard the flattened stallion clatter to the floor from off the mallet and roll around like a coin behind her.

Shadow glared at the other three guards from the doorway, “Don't just stand there. Seize her!”

The three glanced at each other. That was easy for her to say. Had Shadow seen what that mare had just done to Evening Tide? She wasn't the one that had to risk getting turned into a manhole cover. Somewhat reluctantly, the two mares and stallion cautiously walked towards the mallet-wielding fugitive.

Midnight backpedaled and bumped against the console table that lined the back wall of her living room as the three started to form a semicircle around her. She briefly looked to her left at her kitchen. If she could get in there, she could make her way into her bedroom and out a window. She unfurled her wings and jumped into the air and over the bat ponies.

She winced as she heard the mallet shatter the lantern that hung above. She could worry about buying new light fixtures after she had ensured she wouldn't be locked away in a dungeon—or at least, had ensured she wouldn't be locked away without getting those hundred thousand bits.

She was just able to slip between the countertop and the ceiling cabinets and crash onto her kitchen table. The mallet was knocked from her forehooves and bounced against the oven. She looked up and saw the four bat ponies scrambling to follow her. She jumped from the table and toward her bedroom.

One of the mares pounced on her as she jumped and the two crashed into the wall next her oven, cracking and denting the plaster. Midnight gave a quick huff as she looked up at the wall. Yet another expensive repair she'd have to make. The mare had moved over Midnight to pin her to the floor while the stallion fumbled for a pair of shackles that were strapped to his side.

Midnight punched the mare in her soft underbelly, “Yeow!” And was reminded why ponies in the Night Guard wore chest plates. She flinched her now sore hoof just as the mare pinned her to her kitchen floor. She could teach a whole class at the rec center about pinning with how much it had been done to her.

“We've got her, ma'am.” the mare shot an annoyed glare at the stallion, who was now trying to unlock the fetters so he could secure them to Midnight's hooves. The other mare sat idly on one of Midnight's kitchen chairs as she watched the stallion struggle with the skinny metal key, “Any day, now, Sergeant.”

Midnight continued to struggle, but it was no use. That purple armor made it nearly impossible for her to fight back in any meaningful way. Any punches or kicks were just met with the stiff resistance one would expect from armor. She looked over at her old oven and smirked as she flexed her wings. It seemed the Night Guard was just as full of amateurs as the Royal Guard was.

She hit her wing against the oven. The door creaked open and cracked the mare right on her back. Dazed, she broke the pin and stumbled off Midnight. Midnight jumped from the floor and ran into her bedroom. The mare growled as she glared at the other two Night Guard, “I really appreciate the help, guys. For a second there, I thought somepony might lend a hoof.”

The stallion finally unlocked the shackles and meekly held them up, “Hey, don't chew me out. I was trying to get the restraints ready.”

Shadow cleared her throat, “I hate to interrupt your quaint conversation over coffee and a scone, but Midnight Dream's getting away!” The three guards nodded and chased after Midnight into her bedroom.

Midnight slammed her bedroom door shut and leaned against it, panting. They were going to be there any second and she needed to buy some time. That cheap, flimsy door wouldn't hold an insect, let alone the Night Guard. She needed to barricade it somehow. She looked to her bed and the pile of socks and pair of sandals that was on it from her earlier packing. That wouldn't work.

She looked over to her dresser, which still had its sock drawer open and smiled. But that certainly would. She walked behind it and started to push it toward her door. She grunted as her hooves lost traction and slide. It weighed a ton. She had blocked the horrible memory of lugging it inside from the garage sale she bought it from.

It wasn't going to be sliding anywhere, but maybe she could tip it over. It was far enough away from the door where it wouldn't hit it, but still close enough that it would probably block it from opening. She grabbed the top of the dresser and started heaving against it, trying to tip it from off it's base. She heard the door burst off it's hinges just as the heavy dresser started to sway over.

Gravity finally overcame the dresser and it fell over just as the stallion raced in. He skid to a stop and raised his forelegs in panic, “No, stoaawwwkkk!” the stained oak piece of furniture slammed down on top of him, flattening him out. The two mare guards ran in behind him only to see a pair of flattened hooves and a gray tail poking out from underneath the dresser gently curl and roll up.

They then looked up just in time to see Midnight's light purple tail slip out the open window. Major Shadow walked in and ground her teeth in irritation as the mares chased after Midnight through the window, “I can't let her slip away. I'll never hear the end of it if I do,” she jumped out the window to join them in the pursuit, leaving the flattened stallion to whimper softly from underneath the dresser.

The rusty shed door flew open and buckled into a heap from the force applied to it. Midnight rolled her eyes. She'd be lucky if she didn't spend a hundred thousand bits trying to escape her would be captors. She looked from the destroyed sheet metal door over to the piles of gardening equipment she had. There had to be something in here she could.

She grabbed her hedge shears and snipped them together several times before tossing them back into the trash can she stored them in. She wanted to escape the Night Guard, not lop off somepony's limbs. She next grabbed the handle of a metal rake. That would hurt, but likely wouldn't severely injure one of the guards. She tugged it a few times, but it had become entangled with some hoses or chicken wire or something and wasn't going anywhere.

“I think she went into the shed, ma'am.”

Midnight glanced outside in panic, before yanking on the rake some more. Screw it, she didn't have time to clean out her shed just to get a rake. She needed something and she needed something quick. In her haste to find a rubber mallet or bat, she stubbed a hoof on the heavy garden roller that leaned up against a stack of tomato cages.

“Ouch!” she shook the hoof while glaring at the roller. The number of times she stubbed a hoof against that stupid thing. It was hardly worth the pristine, professional cut lawns it helped create. It was also not tangled up with anything. The glare disappeared as she grabbed its wooden handle. It wasn't a mallet, but it would do.

She awkwardly tugged the roller out from next to the tomato cages and pulled it toward the shed's opening. She grunted as she yanked it around so she could get behind it and push, She looked down at the metal roller and panted. This thing wasn't really meant to be pushed. It was supposed to be pulled from behind, but she didn't have the time to get the harness and straps that were needed.

“Freeze!” one of the armored mares jumped into the shed's entrance and assumed an aggressive stance, ready to tackle the fugitive and secure her for transport. Her eyes widened in fear as she stared down the heavy roller that sat in front of her. She'd seen what had happened to her male colleagues.

Midnight smiled, “You first,” she pushed the roller forward. With this mare out of the way, she'd only have to take out Major Shadow and the other mare. Defeating the Night Guard's crack arrest squad would be easy. That is, if the damn roller would actually move fast enough. She struggled to push the heavy object. It very slowly rolled forward toward the lean guard.

The mare, still wide-eyed, was able to stumble out of the shed and swiped her orange tail out of the way just in time to avoid it getting pinched underneath the heavy drum. She gasped in relief at her narrow escape and looked over at Shadow, “M-Major, we've got a problem.”

Shadow rubbed her temple with a hoof. Today just hadn't been going her way. First, she was called in and missed the Garbonza, then Colonel Hawkeye and his long range observation dirigible was delayed getting back to base due to weather, now she had this purple maned pain in the neck to deal with.

“This is so unbelievably stupid,” Shadow looked over at Midnight as the mare muttered to herself trying to get the heavy roller over the metal lip of the shed. She really had to agree with Midnight on that one.

She looked over at her two incompetent subordinates, “This is a problem? She's trying to flatten you into a Night Guard rug with a big, heavy roller. You, a pony who is trained in aerial combat and doesn't need to be anywhere near the ground. Which is where said roller is permanently located. Are you seeing the connection?” Shadow sometimes wondered whether it was in the Night Guard's interests to only hire bat ponies. Not every bat pony was fit for the Night Guard, and there were times—like now—that she questioned Captain Borealis' training policies.

Both mares nodded and took to the air. Shadow followed them just as Midnight successfully overcame the lip of the shed and maneuvered the roller into her backyard. Best to follow her own advice and not risk getting squashed flat.

Midnight looked into the air and at the three bat ponies. Ponies now far out of range of her roller. She bit her lip. The two mares shot toward her in a strafe. Maybe she should have taken the time to untangle that rake. She ducked down behind the roller to protect herself from the mares' attack. Her eyes suddenly shot open in alarm.

Wait, she was ducking behind a heavy, highly movable roller. If the mares hit the roller, it would roll back on top of her and she'd be flattened out into a gray and purple sheet. She jumped out from behind the roller. It was better to take her chances with the strafing than risk a self-created flat fate. She didn't want to end up another piece of empirical evidence for karmatic field theory.

One of the mares hit the roller just as she jumped and she was painfully jerked back in midair as her tail was flattened out underneath it. She looked back and sighed in relief. Good thing she had jumped perpendicular to the roller or her tail would have trapped her just as it nearly did that guard. She peeled its flattened purple form off the grass and shook it several times to pop it back into shape.

She brushed it a few times to make sure all the hairs lined up neatly, “Good as ne—ah!” one of the mares slammed into her and she somersaulted several times before skidding into her garden. She sat up and cringed at the distinctive sound of a tomato plant snapping in half, “Oh no,” she looked down to see her butt firmly planted on the twisted remains of one of her plants.

The poor thing had never expected the pony who had protected and nurtured it to be so cruel as to slowly crush it to death. She hastily stood up and examined its remains. In a final act of bravery, the plant had used its leaves and stem to shield several of its precious tomatoes from the bat pony's large behind. She sniffed. Even in death, her tomato plants were trying to care for their young.

The two mares hovered several feet away. One looked over in bewilderment at the other, “Is she okay?”

The other shrugged, “Must be all that runoff from the base.”

Midnight turned to the two, her amber eyes alight in anger, “And what do you two have to say for yourselves, hmm?” she started walking toward the duo, who nervously looked at the miffed bat pony, “You just waltz into somepony's house, uproot her life,” she pointed at her garden and the small ditch she had dug through it when she crashed, “And destroy her innocent plants. What did they ever do to you?”

She pulled one of the mares down to the ground by her orange tail, “They didn't attack Rainbow Dash. They didn't get a bounty.”

The mare gulped, “Hey, now. Easy there.” This pony really was crazy, wasn't she? Why wasn't Starlight or Shadow doing anything?

“They didn't do anything. They were just sitting there, happy and carefree. Enjoying the sun and growing their sweet fruits.”

The mare raised a hoof, “But... tomatoes are a vegetable.”

Midnight punched her in her unarmored chin, causing the mare to crumple dizzily to the grass, “They're a fruit,” Shadow slammed a hoof against her face at the terrible one-liner. She really should intervene, but it was like watching a train crash. You could only stare on in slack jawed amazement and wonder how much worse it could get.

The other mare finally had enough of the insane bat pony and her lack of knowledge of the High Court's ruling in Nyx v Hayden. She tackled Midnight before the pony could attack the downed guard any further. The two rolled over each other several times, exchanging blows each time they were on top of the other.

As they wrestled and fought, the other guard picked herself up from the ground and shook her head a few times. That briefing really was true: Midnight Dream was a capable fighter. She looked over at the two mares' attempts to pin each other and leapt up, “Hang on, Starlight. I'm coming!”

Midnight had just pinned Starlight to the ground when she heard the other guard and turned her head. Her eyes widened as the guard jumped into the air to knock her off Starlight. Midnight flapped her wings and shot into the air. The guard winced as she slammed into her formerly pinned comrade instead of Midnight. The two guards were knocked silly by the fumbled assault.

An idea sprang into Midnight's head as she looked down at the two mares. She needed to hurry. She probably wouldn't get another chance. She quickly flew down and grabbed hold of the roller. Using her momentum, she was able to get it moving much faster than she had previously and set her sights on the the guards that were currently laying on top of each other.

Starlight looked up at the pony that was splayed out on top of her, “Get off, Nightshade. We gotta get up and take this crazy gardener out before she—oh no!”

Midnight quickly pushed the roller over the two mares' tails, flattening them them out. As she pushed the roller forward, the sound of armor crunching down reverberated from underneath her hooves. She carefully moved forward over the now flattened purple and silver armored ponies. Nightshade's leathery wings were sprawled paper thin against her equally flat back. Finally, with one last push, the orange mane and the back of Nightshade's head slide out from underneath her. She pushed the roller over a little ways more and looked back at her handiwork.

Starlight and Nightshade had been squashed flat, face-down against each other. Their nearly identical armor made it a little difficult to distinguish the paper thin lines that made up their trained, athletic bodies, but Midnight could see Nightshade's lighter coat and orange mane in contrast to Starlight's more standard bat pony gray coat and dark purple mane.

Because of the pressure of the roller and the speed that Midnight had moved it, the duo slowly peeled off the ground, firmly pressed together, and gently rocked back and forth. From the brief glimpses Midnight got of the pony on the bottom, she could see that Starlight was flattened in much the same position as Nightshade had been, face-down against Nightshade with her wings painfully sprawled out. The two mares had been squashed in virtually the same position, with their legs, bodies, and tails almost perfectly flattened against each other.

Midnight smiled at her efforts. She had to stop herself from walking over and rolling the duo up like a rug. There'd be no bits for winning this fight. Old habits die hard. She looked up into the sky. Where was that major at? She just had one more Night Guard to take care of and then she cou—

Shadow thrust a forehoof into Midnight's cheek as hard as she could, using her inertia from flying down to add some extra punch to her punch. Midnight was knocked off her hooves by the impact and flew into the air before hitting the side of her metal shed, denting it. She slowly slide out of the large dent and slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Shadow rubbed her sore hoof before looking over at the two flattened together mares who continued to slowly rock back and forth on the ground, “Solar Eclipse was right. If you want it done right, do it yourself.”

*********

A low rumble filtered through the fog. Midnight groggily opened her eyes. What happened? She tried to raise a hoof to her head to gently rub it, but found they were tightly bound with rope. Last thing she remembered was defeated the Night Guard and—oh. She must not had defeated them all. She sucked in some air between her teeth and winced—both in pain from her sore cheek and from apprehension.

How badly had she been flattened out? No doubt the Night Guard had done something to her while she was unconscious—especially after what she did to those mares. She didn't feel any different—sore jaw aside—but she had no idea what it felt like to be flat. She looked down at her body, expecting to see it's new, even sleeker, cardboard thin form.

She let out a grateful sigh. Her bellybutton was as three dimensional as ever. Evidently, they were waiting for the justice system to render its punishment before dishing out some of their own. The rumble grew even louder. Just what was that? She looked up and saw she was sitting against a large metal hanger door.

No, no. That doesn't do it justice. It was enormous. Easily several times the size of her cottage. There was only one kind of object that would ever need a hanger that big. She looked up from the door and into the sky. Several hundred yards above, an equally large dirigible drifted around in a circle, the two large propellers mounted on its metal hull rumbled ever louder as it slowly made its descent toward the ground.

“Oh no,” she whispered. There was only one place she could be that had dirigibles. She looked around in a sudden panic. Several hangers lined the concrete taxiway she was on. In front of her were several landing pads and metal framework mooring masts. Off in the distance, she could see the distinctive barb wire topped-chain link fence that marked the inner boundary of the Crescent Moon Military Base, the Night Guard's headquarters.

“Ah, you're awake.”

“What?” Midnight looked over to see Major Shadow emerge from an opening in the hangar door.

The mare had a very smug smile on her face as she looked down at her restrained prisoner,“You certainly gave us quite a fight, Midnight. Thanks to you, my squad will be out of commission for weeks—say nothing of all the paperwork.”

This wasn't good. Not at all. Midnight writhed, trying to loosen the rope that had tightly bound her legs and wings. If the Night Guard imprisoned her, not only would she not get that hundred thousand bits, but she'd have to face the music—a damp, mossy imprisoned genre of music, “Wait, wait, wait. J-Just listen. You know I have a hundred thousand bit bounty, right?”

Shadow raised an eyebrow, “Uh-huh.”

She continued to struggle in vain. Those damn ropes were just too tight, “Well, we could split it fifty-fifty. You turn me in to the Vanguard and we both get a nice sack of bits. What do you say?” It was a little desperate—okay, a lot desperate, but it was all she had. Plan B was trying to get out of knots that would make a Foal Scout proud.

Shadow laughed, “I'll give you this, Midnight. You certainly play the role of criminal much better than that of gardener. Trying to bribe me. That's the first time that's happened,” she walked in front of Midnight, “Fifty or even a hundred thousand bits might be a lot to somepony as desperate as you, but it's nothing to me.”

“You know how much my pension'll be worth by the time I retire? I take your little bribe and that all goes down the toilet. This is the Night Guard, hon. Somepony's probably listening in on this conversation as we speak. The fighting league wasn't the only one with scrying spells. I'll be sure to talk to Princess Twilight about adding 'attempted bribery' onto the list of charges.”

Midnight slumped down. It was worth a try. She'd probably have taken the deal if the roles were reversed. Wait, princess? She looked up, “What about Princess Twilight?”

“What do you mean 'What about Princess Twilight?' Why do you think you're at the Crescent Moon Aerodrome and not a dungeon right now?” she pointed up at the dirigible, which was now several hundred feet lower than it had been previously, “Once Colonel Hawkeye lands and refuels, the Dreamscape will be taking us to Ponyville so the Princess can render her punishment.”

Midnight's eyes widened in terror. The Princess was going to be handling the trial and punishment personally. She figured she'd get convicted—there was video, well 'magical crystal recording' doesn't roll of the tongue as nicely, proof of her 'crimes'—but one of Equestria immortal alicorns dealing out the punishment? The very alicorn that cast the enchantment that got her into this mess in the first place?

Her writhing turned into thrashing as she continued to try and force her way out of the ropes. Shadow looked on in bemusement, “I don't blame ya. Rumor has it Princess Twilight's pissed about what you've done,” she walked a few feet away and leaned up against the metal door, “I'd be trying to escape too if I knew what was coming.”

She looked back at Midnight, “But you can try all you want. You're not escaping.”

Midnight continued to fight against the ropes. She had to escape. She wasn't about to give Princess Twilight the satisfaction of squashing her into a bat pony throw rug. The ropes still weren't loosening. She looked up when she noticed the rumble slow to a stop. The Dreamscape had shut off its engines as it made its final approach. Several ropes were lowered from the dirigible to ponies who were around the landing pad to help secure it.

She needed to get out of this fast. She hopped back and winced as the back of her head banged against the metal door with a loud echo. After making sure Shadow wasn't looking, she started to shake and flex. It was one of those old cliches she'd read about—the hero's tied up and so must cut herself free using some sharpened object. It was a big metal door. There had to be some sharp edges somewhere she could use.

Alas, the door was as smooth and even as a watermelon's rind. The ropes weren't about to get caught on anything. She needed to think of some other escape method before that airship landed and she was hauled away to a flat fate. Maybe if she tried to use the concrete as an abrasive to slowly break the rope and—

Shadow's face brightened as she stared at the dirigible and the ground crew who were working to secure it, “Excellent,” she turned to Midnight, “Why don't we make our way over? I want to make sure you're locked in the brig as soon as possible. Don't want you slipping your way out of those ropes, now do we?”

Midnight's eyes widened, “Wait, what?” Before she could inquire further, Shadow hoisted her up onto her back and walked toward the landing pad. Midnight continued to squirm. No, this couldn't happen. She needed to break free of the ropes first, then pretend to still be tied up so she could surprise Shadow and escape.

“Quite fighting it, Midnight. You're heavy enough as it is. I don't need you squirming around on top of it.” Shadow slapped Midnight with her wings several times to get her to stop wiggling around. Midnight's antics only grew more panicked and desperate as the two passed through the shadow of the dirigible and stopped on the concrete landing pad.

“Major Shadow.”

Shadow unceremoniously leaned over and Midnight toppled to the ground before saluting, “Colonel Defense, sir. Are you here to see off the prisoner?”

Midnight shook her head and glared at Shadow for a moment. Concrete was very soft, thank you. She looked over and her jaw dropped. Standing in front of Shadow with a stern look on his face, was Tower Defense. Dressed up in his fancy silver and purple armor. Her face brightened. Was he here to help her? He had to be.

“That I am, major. Prisoner transfers are the most likely time they try to escape. Considering how valuable this pony is—not to mention how dangerous she is—Captain Borealis wants to ensure this goes without a hitch.”

“Couldn't agree more, sir.”

“Oh?” Tower raised an eyebrow and gestured at Midnight, “Is that why the prisoner is bound with ropes and not actual shackles?” Midnight shot a glare at him. That wasn't helping at all. In fact, that was the exact opposite of helping.

Shadow let out a sheepish squeak, “Well, uh, Night Fire had the restraints and he was kind of flattened underneath a dresser at the time, so I had to improvise before the prisoner woke up, sir.”

“I see,” he motioned at one of the ground crew who had just finished tying one of the ropes to a metal loop in the ground. The bat pony threw some shackles to him, “Why don't we make sure she can't escape, hmm?”

“R-Right. Yes, sir,” The two walked up to Midnight.

This was when he was going to knock out Shadow and she could escape, right? He unlocked the iron fetters and placed the key in a pocket on his armor. She writhed some more, “Wait, Tower, it's me! You know, Midnight? Failing gardener? Crippling debt? All that? Y-You can't do this.”

“Major, please remove the ropes around the prisoner's forehooves.” Midnight breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she just had to plead a little. She'd have to remember to punch him when this was all over for nearly giving her a heart attack.

Shadow looked up in shock, “What?!”

Tower snorted in irritation, “I can't very well put restraints on the prisoner if there's rope currently where the restraints go, can I?”

“O-Oh yeah. That makes sense,” Shadow walked behind Midnight and started loosening the tight knots.

Midnight gasped, “What?!” she tried to kick. Why not? Everything else hadn't worked. She looked up at Tower in fear, “I-If this is about the whole 'join the Night Guard' thing, then I'll give it a try. Honest. Let me go and we can go right to the recruiting office.” Better to be a Night Guard grunt than a bat pony blanket.

As Shadow undid the knots, Midnight realized that it was just one long strand of rope that was bound around her. As the knots came undone, the rope loosened. It wasn't just her forehooves that were being freed. She stopped struggling. If the rope fully came undone, Shadow would probably tackle her, and given Tower was being no help whatsoever, the jig would really be up.

Shadow unwrapped Midnight's forehooves that had been bound behind her back and held them tightly. Tower really slowly walked up, shackles in hoof. It was now or never. Midnight quickly jerked hard to her left, causing the loose rope to fall to the ground and flipping the shocked Shadow right into Tower. The two guards fell to the ground while Midnight undid the last of the rope.

Shadow quickly shot upright with a growl, “Damn it,” she looked down at the dark gray stallion still sprawled out on the ground, “Colonel, we need to—colonel?” Tower continued to lay limply. Somehow he had been knocked unconscious. She snorted. Of course he had. She had barely even hit him. She looked back just in time to see Midnight fly into the air, “Oh, no you don't!” she leapt into the air in pursuit.

The wind whistled in Midnight's tufted ears. She'd done it. She'd actually escaped. Now all she had to do was fly out of one of Equestria's most secure military installations. One that was equipped with the latest anti-aircraft cannons, and had autogyros ready at a moment's notice to intercept any intruding—or escaping—ponies. She gulped. Getting out of her bonds would be the easy part.

“I told you you're not escaping,” she looked behind her to see Shadow closing fast, an annoyed snarl plastered across her face. She groaned. Not another chase. Even with the fighting league disbanded and indicted, she still couldn't escape them. She did a quick one eighty and zipped past Shadow before she could react and toward the Dreamscape, which was now floating in place several hundred feet above the landing pad and mooring mast.

She really hoped the Dreamscape was one of the high altitude observation dirigibles the Night Guard used to spy on foreign nations and not a battle one equipped with cannons, runetic shields, and ballistae the Night Guard used to intimidate dragons whenever they came a little too close to a major city for comfort.

The ground crew was unprepared for an escaped fugitive. A few of them sprang into the air for a moment as if to aid in the chase before they settled back to the ground and occupied themselves with the ropes and mooring mast. They were there to make sure the Dreamscape landed safely. Not to capture rouge ponies. Plus, that was Midnight Dream. They all saw the crystal recordings of her fights. The last thing any of them wanted was to wind up like Rainbow Dash.

Shadow growled at their cowardliness. Fine by her. If they didn't want to capture a dangerous pony, get personally thanked by one of the princesses, and likely get a big fat promotion, than that was their prerogative. She lunged forward and grabbed onto Midnight's flank, “Gotcha!”

“Nwagh!” Midnight spiraled out of control. She tightly shut her eyes as she saw the metal hull of the Dreamscape fill her vision. She slammed into it sprawled out, leaving a bat pony shaped dent. She shook her head. That was really strange. She expected the airship to have a much thicker, harder hull than that. Maybe even one that would have flattened he—Shadow made sure to hit the bat pony right in her stomach as she impacted. The impact caused both ponies to break through the thin hull.

Midnight gasped for air as she desperately floundered and paddled in the huge tank of water She burst to the surface, hacking, “W-what?” Why was there water on an airship? Was it some kind of weapon? She looked around in the pitch blackness in confusion before something grabbed onto her leg and sucked her back down into the depths.

Shadow pulled Midnight out of the bat pony hole and flung her through the air. Midnight shook her wet mane of some of the water and looked back. A waterfall was now flowing out the side of the Dreamscape from the Midnight-shaped hole in its side. The ponies on the ground scrambled around in panic. Why were they so panicked? A shiver ran up Midnight's spine. Maybe the water was really some kind of bio weapon or neurotoxin. And she had been swimming in it!

She rubbed her eyes as she looked at the airship, clearing some of the damp mane away from them. Was it just her, or was the Dreamscape starting to tilt to its right? Shadow crashed into her again, making sure to land several punches before the two toppled toward the ground. Midnight returned the favor with a few punches to the mare's unarmored face and legs, before she kicked Shadow in her chestplate and broke free of the mare.

Midnight jerked her head to her left at the sound of of the taut ropes that had been anchoring the Dreamscape snapping. She looked at the ship as it continued to lean to its right. The water had now started to slow from the hole. Midnight's ears twitched and she suddenly shot straight up and glanced down to see Shadow shoot by underneath.

Shadow quickly adjusted her course and flew up toward her. Midnight was about to rapidly decent and avoid another ramming attempt when the guard slowed to a stop and hovered a few yards away, panting, “What are you trying to do, Midnight? You can't seriously think you can escape,” she thrust her forelegs into the air, “Look around you. You're in the most secretive military base in Equestria. The Zebra, the griffons, Tartarus, even the Royal Guard can't get in here. What makes you think you can get out?”

“I've gotten out of worse situations before,” That was a blatant lie, but she was getting really tired of these grandiose speeches. First Speck, then Night Terror. Did her opponents memorize the things just waiting for the day they could give one?

Shadow snorted, “Sure you have,” she rushed at Midnight and once again grabbed her, causing the two to wrestle in midair, trying not only to punch and rib their opponent, but also maintain air control and stay in flight. Behind them, the Dreamscape opened its starboard ballast tank in a desperate attempt to stabilize itself and water rushed out in three waterfalls toward the ground crew who now tried to untie the remaining ropes that still held the airship in place.

The two ponies fought and tussled their way underneath the Dreamscape, moving in and out of the streams of ballast water as they punched and kicked each other. Both ponies paused for a moment to stare in shock at the airship as it quickly lifting higher into the air. Its massive form was now totally slumped over on its side, with the passenger compartment and engines feebly hanging on. Midnight was no dirigible expert, but that seemed about as good as a regular naval ship being on its side.

“Oaf!” Shadow slammed into her yet again and then pushed her up toward the damaged airship. Midnight tried to knee the armored mare to no avail before she reached over Shadow's back, trying to get at the pony's leathery wings. Before she was able to, they crashed into the metal skin of the Dreamscape's envelope, tearing a hole in it just as they had with the ballast tank.

The pressurized helium within immediately caused the two to rocket back out the hole as the loud hiss of the escaping helium became nearly deafening. They flew down toward the passenger compartment to escape the noise and potentially asphyxiating gas. Shadow overtook Midnight and once again rammed into her. Midnight grunted in annoyance. This was starting to become repetitive.

The two crashed into the rigid metal hull of the passenger compartment. Unlike the envelope or ballast tank, the riveted metal plates were thick and sturdy. Midnight gasped as the wind was knocked out of her by the impact with the hard surface. Shadow smirked. It had taken long enough to finally work. She went about landing punches onto Midnight's soft belly and chest.

After a few painful blows, Midnight countered with several punches at Shadow's face, which the mare blocked, “Nice try,” Midnight kicked her in the belly, knocking her away and into the air, before Midnight stood up and took a moment to catch her breath. Shadow again lunged at her, but a sudden jerk from the Dreamscape caused Midnight to stumble and fall onto the hull. Shadow flew by and was about to try again when she paused in midair.

The loud rumble of the Dreamscape's engines slowly wound up. Midnight looked to the rear of the compartment to see one of the large wooden propellers pointed straight down—well, relative to the passenger compartment. It appeared they were trying to use it to reorient the airship upright. Sure enough, the dirigible slowly began to tilt back up while also start to creep forward. No doubt due to the still straight-facing propeller on the other side.

Midnight leaped off the metal surface and back into the air. Maybe it was time to go on the offensive. She'd never get out of this base if she didn't. Shadow was caught off guard as Midnight grabbed her tail and swung her around several times, before throwing her at the Dreamscape. Shadow was unable to orient herself in time to stop from punching another hole in the dirigible's envelope, this time close to the rear of the ship.

The disoriented guard was helped out of the helium bladder by the rushing gas as it quickly escaped. Midnight cringed. She hadn't meant to aim Shadow at the airship's envelope. Any more holes like that and thing was likely to pop.

Shadow shook her head and clenched her teeth in frustration. How? How was it possible? Midnight was just a gardener! How could she be so good at combat? She glanced from one of the pony shaped holes to the other. Let alone just about singlehoofedly taking out a Nova-class dirigible. She needed to end this thing and end it fast.

She shot up from the airship and back toward Midnight. In response, Midnight hastily flew away. Being aggressive was fine and all, but you had to pick the right moments. She made a wide turn around the Dreamscape, which was now both twisting itself back upright and moving forward at a good speed. She couldn't help but notice both the pony-sized holes looked like they were getting bigger as more and more helium made its way out.

“Get back here!” Shadow grabbed a hold of Midnight's tail and smirked.

Midnight looked back, “Uh-oh,” Why did she get the feeling she was about to go on a little trip?

Sure enough, Shadow mirrored Midnight's earlier move and spun her around before throwing her in the direction of the airship. Midnight tried to flap her wings and stabilize herself, but just like before, the Dreamscape had another hole in its envelope, this time only a few dozen yards away from the first hole. Midnight popped out and looked over at the first hole. It was now about five times its original size and still sounded like a blustery day.

She flew back toward Shadow before hesitating. She needed to end this fight, and aerial combat was doing nothing except turn a dirigible into Swiss cheese. She needed a new tactic. Glancing around, she smiled. That could work. It would certainly be different. She rushed toward the ground.

Shadow glared at the retreating pony, “What's the matter, Midnight?” she flew after her, “Can't take the heat?” Neither pony saw the Dreamscape, now fully upright, start to falter in the air and sag toward the ground as the metal skin between two of the holes started to tear away.

Midnight hugged the concrete taxiway as she sped along just above it. One of the mooring masts loomed in front of her. It's metal skeleton would make Shadow's ramming attempts impossible and force the mare into some ground combat for once. She still needed to figure out a way around her armor, but let's take it one problem at a time.

Shadow made one last push to catch up to the cowardly mare, but Midnight slipped into safety between the iron framework of the tower. Shadow scowled as she flew around the tower several times like a hound dog that had trapped its prey up a tree. She stopped and landed, glaring at the pony between the iron bars. The glare broke as she let out a lengthy chuckle.

Midnight looked on in concern at the laughter. She hadn't broken the mare into some kind of psychosis, had she? The last thing she wanted was a literally insane pony trying to attack her, “A-Are you okay?”

Shadow wiped a tear from her eye, “Oh, I'm fine. I just find it ironic. You, a fugitive, trying to find safety behind metal bars. It's just one of those moments.”

Midnight looked around her makeshift metal cage, “Heh, heh, I guess it is a little funny.”

“And the best part is, I don't even have to do anything,” Shadow grinned victoriously, “You've caught yourself. I just have to make sure you stay in there until reinforcements arrive and we can properly detain you.”

“...Oh,” Midnight bit her lip. She hadn't really thought this one through. She was still in fighting league mode, okay? Her opponent was always supposed to try and attack her, not sit around and guard her. That's not how any of the fights had gone. She could still fix her screw up. She slowly backpedaled toward on of the openings in the metal framework.

Shadow leapt up and quickly flew around to the opening, “Now, Midnight. What did I tell you? You're not escaping. Just sit down and relax. You'll be shackled on on your way to Princess Twilight in no time.”

Alright, new plan. Midnight flapped her wings and took off. Maybe she could fly her way ou—ouch! She slammed her head against one of the iron cross beams and crumpled to the ground hissing. She furiously rubbed the top of her head and the lump that was no doubt already forming.

Shadow chuckled, “Tsk, tsk. You'll never escape like that,” she let out a relaxed sigh and rested her forehooves against the metal bars, “You know, I hope more fugitives act like you. It would make my job a Tartarus of a lot ea—what are you doing?”

Midnight had her rump firmly planted on the ground, her eyes wide and pupils narrowed to pinpricks in terror. Her wings twitched in anticipation of their imminent use. She stumbled backward before desperately climbing her way out of the mooring mast, “R-Run!” she squealed before tripping her way out of the tower and taking flight.

Shadow was too dumbstruck to stop Midnight. She looked like Nightmare Moon herself had just returned and severed Celestia's head right before her eyes. A loud roar caused her tufted ears to perk. She looked behind herself and her eyes quickly mirrored Midnight's.

The Dreamscape, now with a massive tear in its envelope where the holes had once been, was careening uncontrollably straight at her. Ponies bailed out of the passenger compartment while the propellers desperately whined in protest, trying futilely to spin in reverse and slow the airship's speed and rapid descent.

Shadow remained firmly in place, unable to move. It was like her hooves had been glued to the ground. She only looked on as the shadow of the dirigible loomed over her, followed quickly by its crumpling metal form as it impacted the ground and quickly slide toward her. She flinched and whimpered, “Oh horseapples.”

Midnight panted. Her heart felt like it might explode. She needed to move and she needed to move fast. This damned mooring tower was going to be her undoing. She pulled a hoof free and fumbled away from the metal deathtrap before she flexed her wings and leapt into the air. A noise resounded from behind her.

It was a terrifying noise. She didn't think she'd ever forget what it sounded like. The sound of metal groaning from the extreme forces it was going through before finally buckling. The pops of rivets bursting from their holes as they shot out like bullets. The whistle of helium as it tore free from the envelope that contained it. The sputtering of engines that had failed to slow the metal hulk.

Don't look back. Looking back was about the worst thing she could ever do. She just needed to fly. Focus on flying and ignore the dark silhouette of an airship that was creeping up and the bits of dust and metal shavings that were lightly buffeting her purple tail. Just fly and don't look back.

She tilted her head over her shoulders. The Dreamscape was right on her tail. She could only see the metal skin of its envelope as it barreled toward her. Its rounded metallic form was rapidly crumpling down as the interior support structure groaned and collapsed from the stress, but it was still coming right at her. When was it going to slow down?! It had to slow down eventually, didn't it?

She looked forward once more just in time to see the frame of another mooring mast zipping straight toward her, “Yah!” she veered to her right to avoid it and spiraled out of control, desperation trying to use her tail like a rudder to right herself. She corkscrewed toward the ground as she heard the airship's twisted form crash into and bulldoze over the mooring mast like it was made of tissues. Yup. Looking back had been a mistake.

If there was one bit of good news, it was that the concrete taxiway had given way to soft grass. Soft relative to concrete, that is. It sure doesn't feel soft hitting it at thirty miles an hour. Just before impact, she tightly wrapped her wings against her lean body. It was something she'd learned during flyer's ed. An open wing is a broken wing.

The grass was as soft as she had expected. She hit it shoulder-first, before ragdolling and skipping across it several times. She finally came to a rest several dozen yards from her first impact. She groaned in pain. Something was surely broken. She sat up. Everything seemed to hurt, but nothing quite had that agony of a broken bone. Huh. Maybe she really was still a little lucky.

The horrible death groan of the Dreamscape caused her to gulp. Nope. She wasn't lucky. She looked behind her to see still sliding toward her, albeit much slower than it had been going only moments earlier. The grass and dirt had caused it to dig in and gouge out a deep skid mark in the ground.

She hobbled away, trying to outrun it before she looked to her side and groaned, “Oh, Midnight. You're an idiot.” Why? Why didn't she do this before? She started to limp perpendicular to the path of the Dreamscape. It had been a rough day, okay? First the Garbonza, then Bill, then the Night Guard. You can't blame her for not doing the obvious thing. Especially when there was a hundred ton dirigible inches from squashing her flatter than a pancake.

Sure enough, after only a short trek, she was clear of the twisted hulk of an airship and collapsed to the ground with a sigh of relief as its buckled metal scraped its way past her. Her shoulder hurt. Her jaw still hurt from Shadow punching her. Her wings hurt from all the flying. She chuckled as she panted. But she wasn't flat, or trapped in a cage, or currently in the brig of an airship on her way to face Princess Twilight.

After a few moments of relief in the cool grass, she stood up and looked over the wreckage. The Dreamscape had totally disintegrated. Not surprising given how easily she had been thrown into it. Her jaw slipped open when she looked down the taxiway she had flown in panic from. A three hoofball field long path of debris stretched from its initial impact at the mooring mast to where the remnants had come to a rest.

Smoke started to billow out from the hulk of metal. She walked around it, glancing every few seconds from it to the line of debris. The passenger compartment and a large portion of the lower part of the envelope made up the wreckage. Mangled i-beams and trusses poked up from inside the envelope's broken shell. In the distance, she could hear the wail of sirens.

She picked up a chunk of the metal skin. It was mind numbing how destructive this all was. No wonder some pegasi refused to fly inside the things. Why risk it when you can just fly on your own? She had new found sympathy for earth ponies and unicorns—well, maybe not unicorns. They still had all those fancy cloud walking and butterfly wing spells they flaunted.

A chuck of the envelope collapsed into the wreckage, causing her to jump. She looked over. Thank Luna the crew had bailed out. Hypnotizing the Element of Loyalty into cramming herself tightly into a bottle was one thing, but she couldn't bear the thought of seriously injuring or even killing somepony.

She walked over a heavy bulkhead. A muffled groan from underneath made her freeze mid-step. B-But, they had all gotten out! She'd seen them jump from the airship. Panic soon flooded in as she jumped off the bulkhead and danced in place. What should she do? She didn't have medical training—that rec center class cost fifty bits. Should she help the trapped pony? Wait for the rescue team and get them to help? Would they arrest her immediately afterward for causing the crash?

She slipped her forehooves under one end of the bulkhead and grunted as she lifted it up. It was an airship. Weight had to be a design consideration. So why were the bulkheads so damn heavy? With some effort, she was able to lift a side of it several feet off the ground, “Hello? Is anypony there?” Quite concerning, there wasn't anything under the bulkhead but compacted down grass. So where did that groan come from?

Maybe it had come from the wreckage itself and echoed over? She let the reinforced metal edge slip from her forehooves and slam back down onto the ground with a heavy thud, being mindful of where her rear hooves were at. The last thing she wanted was to flop her way out of here with ribbon hooves.

A soft whimper immediately followed the bulkhead's impact. She looked around in confusion. The now ever present sirens grew louder. She could swear it was coming from underneath the bulkhead. It had to be. She reached down again and hoisted it back up. Her forelegs started to shake under the strain. She could keep this up. The bulkhead was dropped once more.

She needed to find something to prop up against it to keep it upright. That shouldn't be too hard. She was in the middle of a massive pile of wreckage, after all. Another moan only served to strengthen her surety. The moans had to be coming from underneath it somehow. A quick search revealed a slightly twisted piece of metal frame.

Once more, the bulkhead lifted off the ground. This time, it was shakily laid onto the frame. Midnight paused and fliched back when the frame shifted position and sank into the grass a little. She tapped the bulkhead a couple times to make sure it was steady before she poked her head underneath it. The grass had been firmly compacted down by the heavy metal wall. There wasn't a hole or depression or anything.

She furrowed a brow and glanced at the bottom of the bulkhead before stumbling away in shock. Plastered firmly to its surface, was the flattened form of a mare. Her crumpled purple armor and tufted ears confirmed she was a Night Guard. Midnight looked back to the flat mare and her eyes widened. It was Major Shadow. She recognized that gray fur and dark blue tail anywhere.

Getting run over by a hundred ton airship had really done a number on the mare. She was definitely thinner than even Spitfire had been. Her armor had been tightly crushed against her lean underbelly. Her legs had been sprawled out flat, while her tongue poked out from her flattened out muzzle. Her tail and some frazzled strands of her dark blue mane weren't spared either.

There wouldn't be any reward for turning her in, but Midnight still tried to peel Shadow's flattened out head off the bulkhead. She wasn't cruel. She wouldn't leave the mare trapped under a heavy metal sheet for Luna knows how long. That is, if she could actually peel her off it. Shadow remained stubbornly stuck to the bulkhead like a sticker. Midnight knew it was a hundred ton airship that had flattened her out, but come on.

Midnight stuck her tongue out in concentration as she worked on scraping at Shadow's muzzle. If she could... just get... a little edge... of Shadow's snout off then she could get the grip she needed to peel the rest of the paper thin mare free. There! Midnight grabbed hold and pulled. Despite the considerable force and effort she was using, Shadow only very slowly peeled free of the bulkhead. She'd been pressed very firmly against it.

The tip of Shadow's tail finally came free and Midnight was thrown onto her back, letting go of the squashed major. Shadow wobbled and flapped in the air, thin as a sheet of paper. A light breeze caused her to gently flutter several yards away before she hit a piece of the Dreamscape's hull and crumpled softly to the grass.

Midnight walked over and flapped her several times like a bed sheet to straighten her out, before letting her fall back to the grass. She placed the bottom of what appeared to be a heavy chair on top of Shadow's tail to prevent her from blowing away. Shadow's red eyes were open and glazed over. Her wings were flattened awkwardly against her armor, as though she hadn't quite been able to fold them up in time.

The sirens had reached their ear splitting peak, “Quick, over here! You guys put out the boiler fire. We'll check for survivors,” Midnight snapped her eyes from the flattened guard and looked over her shoulders. The rescue teams had arrived. Time for her to get out of here. In all the chaos and panic, she'd forgotten just how good of an opportunity the Dreamscape crashing had been. It made for the perfect getaway.

While everypony was busy with the crash, she could avoid all the autogyros and anti aircraft cannons and slip away free as a bird. Then, after a good night's sleep, she'd get to Canterlot and collect those hundred thousand bits with her name on it—quite literally as a matter of fact. She just needed to do that before something else went wrong.

She quietly slipped into the air. The sun was slowly creeping its way over the horizon and dusk was settling in. What a day it had been. She glanced back at the destroyed airship and the flattened Night Guard that still gently fluttered off the ground, only being kept in place by the weight on her tail. Midnight looked in the direction of her house. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it wasn't just the Wonderbolts or Royal Guard that were incompetent. Maybe the whole military was.

End of Chapter Eight

Author's Note

Of all the fight scenes in this story, the Night Guard one was definitely the hardest to write. Planning out a one-one is hard enough, but five-on-one is a whole 'nother game entirely. It was totally worth it, though. That fight aroundthe Dreamscape was really fun to write.

Speaking of, rest assured no one died when it crashed. A couple more may have been squashed flat like Shadow was, though. Also, I was going to call it a “zeppelin” but I knew that would anger lighter-than-air enthusiasts as a “zeppelin” is a specific type of rigid dirigible that is manufactured by Luftschiffbau Zeppelin. Plus, I like the word “dirigible” more than “zeppelin.”

You'll probably also note the stallion flattenings are much less detailed and long than the mare ones and this was the first time stallions were actually flattened despite it being near the end of the story. As you might surmise from that, I am not a fan of stallion flattenings and don't clop to them. As a result, the mare ones get the focus while they're left as a small bonus for those who enjoy them.

Also, Nyx v Hayden has to be my personal favorite horse pun I've ever made.