Pairing

by Camolot the Creator

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Dark, Comedy
Length: 3669

Wild Ace and a certain someone have goals in mind, and each is capable of giving the other the victory they desire.

Wild Ace made a promise, a promise that he cannot keep no matter how hard he struggles or how many times he tries. He is on his last legs, and on the verge of giving up hope, when he visits his sister's gravestone, another failure weighing heavy on his mind.

Someone is watching him, someone who has a very specific vacancy that he needs filled. Wild Ace is perfect for the role, provided he can be manipulated into accepting…

A part of Strings, a collaborative project between myself and a number of other authors. Partially, this is also a test of whether or not I can smoothly bounce back and forth between comedy and dark.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2017-04-06 07:09:25 UTC

The Deal

The sadness permeated the air, an almost physical thing that sapped the warmth of the noon sun as it beat down on the patch of land. Like fog, it wrapped its way around the trees and solemn grave markers, driving away any sign of warmth or happiness that could have made its way between the gray stone spires. It drove away the birds and the animals, large and small, making the place the truest representation of the phrase "silent as a grave".

Wild Ace made his way along a cobblestone path, weaving his way between potholes and cracks without paying any attention to where his hooves were going: he knew the path well. The uneven stone held no surprises, not for him. He had trod it so many times, the same path every time, that he was certain that the slightly worn trail that wove its way along the stones that formed the little road had been made by his hooves. After all, few others came to this solemn place: ponies did not dwell on the deaths of their fellows, but honored them by living their lives: he was something of an oddity, in this way.

Through the haze of thoughts, he recognized a stone spire- Here Lies Charity Bell, read the inscription: the marker itself was recognizable thanks to a picture of several ponies implanted into the stone- and turned off the main path, moving from stone path and into the well-kept grass that surrounded it. The noise of his hooffalls was deadened by the healthy greenery, and he padded out between the markers: such quiet sounds were better for a place such as this, in any case.

Before long- too short a time, always too short a time- the gravestone that he had come to find came into view. He did not read the inscription, did not need to, for he had long memorized what it said. He had selected it, after all: there had been no-one else to do so. Here Lies Blue Skies, beloved sister, taken too soon- the typical things one would put on such a stone, something nopony besides those who knew who lay there personally would ever read. What actually meant something was all that had not been engraved.

Ace tried to put on a smile. He made an incredible effort, as he did every year, to pull even the slightest of happy expressions, but he suspected that anypony who came along would ask him what he was grimacing about. Like every year, he gave up, and approached the stone with an expression as blank as it was, plopping himself down before it and placing one hoof on the cold surface.

"Hey, sis," he tried the smile again. Nothing doing. "I... I tried out again this year. Got... got really close, this time." A lie. "I think all the judges know me, now: maybe that'll help getting in, and then-"

"And then what?"

Ace jerked at the voice, unexpected and unsolicited, his mind racing. Had he seen any other ponies in the graveyard? No, not even the caretakers: he always chose days that they were gone. Had somepony followed him? If that was the case, then why? He was nothing, not even a blip on anypony's radar, and nopony had any sort of reason to follow him. He spun in place, questions on his lips, then froze, the queries dying where they lay.

The creature standing before him was not a pony, that much was apparent. Two legs, one crossed over the other, covered partially by what appeared to be a cape, or a long coat. Another two legs, folded over its chest, and affixed to the chest in such a way and with such proportions that he was sure that any attempt to use them for walking would be incredibly awkward. A memory half-surfaced, from his biology classes: Diamond Dogs had similar structures, which were referred to as "arms", but this creature was not a Diamond Dog. Its face was flat, devoid of fur, though half of it was all but concealed through a combination of square-rimmed glasses and a grey hat that bore a looping whorl of an insignia that he did not recognize. The construction of the hat reminded him of hats that he had seen in Canterlot, though such things were rare. Pegasi saw no point to such things, and unicorns had... difficulty... wearing such hats.

It- whatever it might be- was leaning against one of the taller markers, regarding him cooly: its face neutral, but its eyes seemed to be surveying Ace, for whatever reason. Sizing him up. The very idea made him... uncomfortable. Then, it spoke again.

"I said: and then what?"

The question made its way across the frozen Pegasus' brain, until it sparked a series of neurons and Ace finally comprehended what it- no, he, the voice was distinctly male- was asking.

"... What do you mean, what?" Not the most brilliant of responses, but Ace was under stress.

The creature's eyes narrowed slightly, in what might be annoyance or calculation, Ace was unsure.

"Say that you do it. Say that you actually go to the tryouts one year, wow the judges, place close enough to first to qualify- what then?"

Ace's mouth hinged open, then shut, then open again... he had no plan. He'd never...

The figure pushed itself off the marker, shifting into a standing position, then stepped out of the shadow. Ace noted that his eyes were still shaded, this time by a shadow cast from his hat: Ace had the distinct impression that this was an intended effect.

"You have no plan. Would you like me to tell you why?" Ace tried to respond, but the creature spoke over him. "You have no plan for a success or win scenario. You've never even thought of it as a possibility, simply consigned yourself to repeated attempts and repeated failures. You have set yourself to lose, over and over again, for the rest of your life."

Anger stirred in Ace. This creature had no right to sit there and criticize him, criticize his life- the figure, however, simply noted his anger, and pointedly ignored it. Unseen by Ace, a flicker of a smile hovered about his lips for the briefest of moments, before he continued onward.

"This is because you have accepted, consciously or unconsciously, that there is no win state. No success. You have purposefully sentenced yourself to a lifetime of repeated failures, one after the other, and are quite willing to just sit down and take it. And sentenced is quite the appropriate word for it, when taking into account the fact that you consider it your punishment."

Ace went rigid, his mouth half open. The ghost of a smile once again danced around the creature's expression: just a little bit farther...

"You are punishing yourself for being inadequate, for being a failure, for not being good enough. Well, I can solve that dilemma for you, at least: you are not good enough. You never will be. It's not a question of mind, or willpower, or determination- you've been bashing your head against this wall for years now, and even through the hopelessness you refuse to give up. No, it is a question of body: you are simply not strong enough, not fast enough, not talented enough to accomplish your goals."

Ace's back legs crumpled, and his mind folded under the assault. He didn't question, because the strikes had been carefully aimed, had hit every point of failure that he had possessed, drawn every fear and anxiety to the surface with the fluid ease of long practice. The walls around his mind shattered, turned to dust, his anger following swiftly behind: in its absence, Ace felt... empty. The figure noted this, nodding once in satisfaction. Step two, then.

"However..." Ace looked up: the measuring gaze was back. "You can be. The potential is there, it must simply be unlocked. You can be everything you want to be- everything you need to be. I can do this for you. And, in return..." a hand darted into one of the coat's pockets, drawing a sheet of parchment forth. Normal eight-and-a-half by eleven printer standard would have sufficed, but a professional uses nothing short of high-quality parchment for their deal contracts. Every god and demon knew this. "In return, all you have to do is do me a little... favor."

He didn't know how to feel. The verbal assault, the diving, the battering, and now he had offered Ace a solution? The creature, for his part, noted the confusion in Ace's face with the slightest twinge of a scowl: too hard, too fast. Not enough time for the information to sink in without causing some serious lag and, potentially, blue-screening the poor stallion. Obviously, he would need to back off and give the poor pony a little time to think about the offer, come to terms with the avalanche of information. Of course, without the emotionally compromised state, Ace was more likely to actually read the contract and figure out exactly what was required of him, but the figure did  not exactly have a choice in the matter. Thus, he turned to leave, making to gently place the contract back from whence it had came.

"I see that you are in no state to make a decision at this time. I will approach later, when you-"

"Wait."

He froze, a small grin making its way across his face. Well, well, welly well well: seems like somepony does possess a spine. He'd had his doubts, but here was the evidence that he, despite everything else, had chosen well. He spun in place, slowly and assuredly: it would not do to make rapid movements, to seem unprofessional or excited. Don't let them know how much of a stake you have on something before they agree to it, because that gives them room to bargain: he had learned that.

"Oh? Wait for...?" The question remained unspoken, but there was no need to speak it.

"Do you-" Halted, began again. "Is that-" Halted again, thought for a moment, restarted. "Can you do that? Give me what I... lack?"

He nodded, spread his arms: desperation made such an easy inroad.

"Of course. You desire strength of body, speed, ability: I can give you those, provided with proper training and certain... exchanges." He produced the contract once again with a flourish, the material crinkling slightly in the wind generated by the motion. Not too fast, not too slow, simply perfect. "Sign this." A ballpoint pen, floating, joined the contract.

Ace reached for the pen with his mouth, then hesitated. The figure swept around the winged pony, the contract now floating next to the pen.

"Come on. Everything you want, everything you need, all just a signature away..." he hunched over slightly, moving his mouth closer to Ace's ear, lowering his voice. "Wealth, fame, fortune, aaaaaand..." he moved slightly closer, his eyes glittering: put out the bait that would catch the fish you want, and your hook won't come back empty. "Why, perhaps you'll even have the chance to fulfill your promise."

Ace jolted at this, and the wicked grin that swept across the biped's face went unnoticed. The pony hesitated for a moment longer, then reached out and grasped the pen firmly in his jaws, only to recoil.

"Ah!"

The pen had, somehow, cut his lip. Before he could raise a hoof to feel the small gash, a single drop of blood fell from it, landing precisely above the signature line and making a tiny splash against the slightly wrinkled parchment.

"And that will do perfectly!" The figure swept around Ace, wrapping up the parchment into a scroll, snatching the pen out of the air and placing both objects back into the pockets that they had come from with an ease born of practice. "I think that I will enjoy working together with you, Wild Ace."

Ace, for his part, was busy being slightly confused, and not for the first time in this exchange. The cut, which he was sure had been there but a moment before, was now gone, the flesh of his lip sealed perfectly and lacking even a puckered scar. He glanced up, only to notice that the figure was already making its way back towards the path.

"Wait!"

The biped halted, and half-turned.

"I don't even know your name..."

He grinned. "Well, you may refer to me as Master, or Sensei, whichever you prefer- and that's a binding portion of the contract, by the by. You may refer to me only as I wished to be referred to. As for my actual name..." his grin widened. "My name is Camolot. Camolot the Creator." Camolot turned back towards the path: so much to do, so much to teach the little pony, and only three weeks to do it in. They could not afford to be wasting time. "Come now, Ace: much to do."

Ace spared a glance back at the grave of his sister, placed a single hoof on it in a gesture of parting, then followed Camolot.

Day I

"Stand there."

Wild Ace moved to the indicated spot.

It had been a day since he had taken the... deal, he supposed. Camolot had led him home, as if he had known every step of the way where he was going, had not even hesitated once. Ace's house, a small cottage on the edge of a small forest and quite far from any civilization, was relatively well-hidden. Thus, Camolot had known exactly where it was beforehand, which had made Ace a little paranoid at least. He had tentatively offered Camolot the guest bed, but he had gently refused, saying just one thing.

"I don't sleep."

Ace had simply shaken his head, had dinner, gone to bed. The next morning he had hoped that it was a dream, but those hopes had been dashed when he had walked into the dining room and found the strange biped checking reference documents and making notes at the table. Almost as soon as Ace had finished his breakfast, Camolot had dragged him out of the house, and had now indicated that he stand on a relatively nondescript pile of dirt. Camolot made eye contact, his gaze flickering out from beneath the brim of his ever-present hat before being concealed again.

"Yesterday, when I made that offer of power, of speed and ability, I was telling the truth. I can give you what you desire, fill in what you lack. However, it will be a long process, and it will cost you." Camolot stretched, joints cracking as they loosened. He didn't really need to, but he had spent the night on the roof of the pony's house observing the stars and was at least a little sore from it: the small bursts of pleasure were well worth it. "Starting today, I have thirty days to bring you up to speed, to train you in the abilities that you now have access to. Fortunately, there is a jumping-off point, as it were: the ability is known as quickstep, the most basic version of a something known as 'flash step', a quick movement technique that allows the user to close distances, dodge strikes, confuse enemies, and many more things besides." He adjusted his hat slightly lower, hiding his eyes, and moved around to Ace's side. While the pony's head followed the movement, his body did not. Perfect. "While flash step is longer ranged and faster, quickstep is useful for dodging strikes in close-quarters while staying near the target, as it only takes one several feet in any direction."

Ace blinked, a single eyebrow raised. He, frankly, had no idea what was being taught to him: really, it sounded like something out of those weird magazines from Japony that had creatures of the various sentient species of Equus wielding strange powers and abilities, as well as announcing their attacks in loud voices and generally being ridiculous. He had never really been interested in such things, but his sister-

He shunted the memory aside. Now was not the time to think about such things: besides, Camolot was speaking again.

"Unfortunately, one can only learn quickstep after they first use it accidentally, and using it accidentally requires me to go-" and then he was gone, disappearing so quickly that a slight afterimage was left behind, accompanied by a sound that was somewhere inbetween a crack and somepony sucking in a breath through their teeth. The same sound rang out from Ace's left side, and, in surprise, he jerked his head over and managed to look- "SURPRISE, BITCH!"

The next thing Ace knew, he was crumpled at the base of a tree, with both him and the unfortunate plant the worse for wear. Nothing had broken- he had no idea how he had been that fortunate- but now he was covered in small nicks and scratches. He got to his hooves, wondering what the hell Camolot was thinking- and then he stared incredulously as the scratches stopped bleeding, sealing themselves over.

"Ah, your cellular regeneration has kicked in.." Ace jerked in surprise: the biped was standing right next to him, and hadn't even made a sound. "This will make it easier for the both of us." And then the asshole had kicked Ace right in the barrel.

Then came hours of what, had Ace had the processing power to spare, he would have called hell. He tried desperately to gain some distance, to react or block or retaliate, but Camolot had been right on top of him the entire time, letting loose hammering blows. Ace suspected that the only reasons he hadn't died from the physical abuse were that Cam seemed to be pulling his punches, for the most part, and his newfound regenerative abilities were keeping him in one piece.

It had happened about three hours in. Cam had come straight at him, fist swinging in an arc, and Ace had been tired of being hit so he had stepped, then there was this twisting, pulling sensation. Next he knew, he had been several feet to the left, easily dodging the blow. Camolot had come to a complete halt, beaming like a madpony. It hadn't helped at all that he was clapping like an over-excited colt, either.

"Fantastic!" He stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat, his expression still ecstatic. "Now, do you remember exactly what that felt like?"

Ace poked his memory, and was surprised to find that he remembered exactly what he had felt. In fact, looking at the memories, he was beginning to discern a sort of pattern to what he had done: he had concentrated something- it hadn't been magic, that was for sure- around his hooves and wings, and then there had been a moment where everything had blended together when he had expressed his wish to not be where he had been at that moment. He had, in essence, told reality what he had wanted, and reality had obliged.

"It felt like..." Ace frowned. "It felt like I... bent the air?"

Cam nodded. "Accurate enough, I suppose: more of..." he paused, licking his lips as he tried to marshal the words. He had never really expressed how his abilities worked to others. "Your abilities- for reasons that we won't get into, not now- are based around mine. When I do something-" here, he disappeared, appearing several feet to one side. "I am telling the universe what I want, then bending space to make it happen. While I do pass through the intervening space, I do so in such a way that, from both your perspective and mine, I am simply moving extremely quickly between two points. While I can do that without bending space in that way, it is less tiring than doing it normally, especially if I must repeat the same motion several times in quick succession." Here, he removed his hands from his pockets once again, shifting into a fighting stance. "Now that you have access to the ability, the best way to improve it is experience. Namely-" Ace saw him do it this time, saw him blaze through the air, appearing right in front of the Pegasus. "DODGE!"

Some good thing about Ace's new healing factor: he didn't bruise, didn't tire as quickly, his minor wounds never stuck around for long and he kept going long after the point where he should have collapsed. The downside was that Cam was pushing him harder than he'd ever been pushed.

"No breaks, and no brakes!"

Of course, eventually, Camolot had relented and allowed him to quit for a little while and retreat to his cottage for lunch, though he had expressed exactly why something like this was important.

"The ability of your cells to regenerate is based on the chemical reserves your body has stored. Your metabolism is such that, within a few seconds, fat is consumed and turned into the proper building blocks for cells as well as the energy to power the regeneration, and then new cells fill in your wounds." Cam took a bite out of a brick of brown material coated with red sauce, savoring the taste a moment before swallowing. "Of course, this is eating through your body's reserves like crazy, because you haven't had time or material to develop the hyperdense energy reserves that I have, which take quite a bit of fuel to make. Thus, over the next few days, you'll feel incredibly hungry almost constantly as your body fills in the blanks and builds up the fat, as well as increasing your over-all cellular density. You'll get progressively stronger, faster, as your body slowly becomes more and more dense, and eventually you'll be able to punch through brick walls and shrug off bullets." Cam grinned at Ace like this was the best thing that had ever happened to anypony.

Ace nearly responded with an aneurysm.