The Contract

“First on your target list is Royal Sentry. He is a pegasus from Equestria. He's thirty years old, and since he was unfortunately born in Equestria he had no idea how the outside world was before he was snatched by General Ilb.”

A twenty year old Royal Sentry has no idea how this happened. One moment he was talking to a gorgeous mare at a local bar who seemed to enjoy his amazing personality and good looks. The next he was face to face with a very ticked off stallion, nearly had his skeleton shattered by a barrage of hooves from said stallion’s gang and was dragged out the door by his tail. Now here he is, twirling in the air.

And landing in a conveniently placed mud puddle.

His sore face throbs and mud covers his battered blue and white spotted body with the surprisingly sticky and foul smelling junk. It brings him to question whether or not he actually landed in mud or something far more sinister. But mud or not, Royal Sentry still crawls out of the dirty puddle, coughing and sputtering and flapping his wings free of the mess.

He collapses to the ground a couple of paces later, holding his jaw and wincing while simultaneously bringing his tail close to him in the hopes of finding comfort. His whole body feels like it is populated with dozens of hearts beating at their own pace, and his bones all feel like they have been cracked to some extent, but his tail really feels loose. Just like his teeth.

“Oh man,” groans Royal Sentry. He looks at the door to the bar behind him, trying to hold back the tears of pain, shame and fear, and is really hoping the crazy stallion and his gang does not come charging out to stomp him to death.

“Do you need a hand?” says someone with a thick accent that Royal Sentry is unfamiliar with.

He turns his head to the source and sees talons extended towards him in a peaceful manner, and he looks to see standing in front of him a sturdy griffin with red fur and feathers, dark gray plumage and blue eyes wearing a nice jacket of silver and gold. Next to him is a slender, black furred canine with ever watchful gold eyes, large claws, and a necklace of a silver crescent moon. Flanking the two is a group of four ponies; two unicorns and two earth ponies, and the group has revolvers holstered on their hoofs.

Royal Sentry swallows blood and reluctantly extends his hoof, and his head feels like a loose ball when he is tugged up and he flashes an uneasy smile when the griffin holds his shoulders and inspects him at arms length.

“You're a foreigner, yes?” says the griffin.

“I'm just a tourist, man,” says Royal Sentry.

“A tourist?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Do you like Stallionopolis?”

“Not any more.”

“Yes, this country is the Wild West, but it is new, so it still has a toddler temper, if you know what I mean.”

The two exchange a chuckle and the griffin gives Royal Sentry a handkerchief, which he gladly presses against his bleeding lip. It stings a little, but the little piece of cloth brings a surprising comfort to him. What cancels it out are the guns strapped to the ponies, and the stern looks they are giving him.

“Relax, they are friendly. They would not hurt a fly. They just look mean because they are tired,” says the griffin. He points at the canine. “He is mean, though, but it is cultural for him to be mean.”

“I hate it here,” says the canine.

The griffin scoffs and waves him off, and then he turns to Royal Sentry and holds out his hand.

“I am Kajil Ilb. What is your name?” says the griffin.

“Royal Sentry,” replies the pegasus.

“Oh, that's a handsome name. Tell me, why come out here? This country is not nearly as developed as the more popular countries, and you look like you are more into Prench or Germane mares.”

“I just wanted to see all of the world before going to any of those academies. Be a kid just a little bit longer, you know?”

Kajil Ilb nods sympathetically and pats Royal Sentry's shoulder. “Oh, yes. I know. I know. Trust me.”

Royal Sentry sighs and looks away. “But I guess this was a sign for me to go back to Equestria, so it was nice meeting you and you're, um-” He looks at the armed ponies “-posse. But I'm going to go now.”

Royal Sentry tries to leave, but Kajil Ilb tightens his grip on his shoulder, bringing him to wince from the pain assaulting his sore bones and muscles.

“You are going to cut your vacation short because of some bully?” says Kajil Ilb.

“I almost died for flirting with a mare! I think that's good enough reason to run,” says Royal Sentry, his voice and legs quivering.

“Well, Royal Sentry, let me tell you a secret. You must not run, for you getting pummeled and us meeting here was destiny."

Royal Sentry blinks, his mind at a loss of function. "Destiny?"

Kajil Ilb nods. "Yes. Destiny. You and I are here for a purpose, and I think my purpose is here to help you. Come, let's see if I can take care of this misunderstanding for you. I have some business to take care of here, anyway.”

Royal Sentry tries to back up. “Oh, you don't have to. You can just do your business and I'll take the next boat back to Equestria.”

“No. No-no-no. I insist. I insist.” Kajil Ilb digs his talons into Royal Sentry's shoulder while offering an innocent smile. “Come. I'll make things right for you. You will see.”

“Eh...”

And that is as much as Royal Sentry says before Kajil Ilb halfway drags him back into the bar with the posse following him. The stench of sweat, alcohol and cheap cologne immediately punches his sinuses, and his pupils shrink to tiny dots when he sees the gang of stallions at the bar. The mare he had talked to earlier is also with them, but unlike the rest of the high energy stallions who are jovial with one another, she is sulking on her stool, nursing her drink. The bartender is sharing her gloom, but he is occupying himself with cleaning a cup. However, when he sees Kajil Ilb standing at the entrance with his gang and Royal Sentry, his body locks up as his wide eyes focus on the griffin.

“Did you see him, though?” says the leader of the group. “I mean, come on! He's a pegasus and he's all whimpy like a unicorn!”

“Those Equestrian pegasi are an embarrassment to our race,” says the pegasus of the group.

The group laughs and talks over each other in agreement, but they stop one by one when Kajil Ilb clears his throat. Then, like a perfectly rehearsed troupe they turn to look at the griffin and his group. The bartender, meanwhile, is inching towards the door, and the mare shrinks in her stool, ears drooping and a low, scared whine leaving her sealed lips.

“Excuse me,” says Kajil Ilb. “I believe you hurt my friend over a simple understanding.”

Kajil Ilb places his hand on Royal Sentry's shoulder and flashes a thin smile, and the pony sizes up the griffin, finishing with an unimpressed scoff.

“What do you want? An apology?” says the stallion. He turns back to his drink, shaking his head while his friends chuckle. “Give me a break.”

Kajil Ilb taps his shoulder again and the stallion turns around with a growl.

“What?” he says.

“I do want an apology,” says Kajil Ilb.

“Oh, you want an apology?”

“Yes, I want an apology. I want an apology. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Well, your scumbag friend tried to make off with my mare, so do me a favor and fuck off.”

In a flash of movement that Royal Sentry has never seen before, Kajil Ilb grabs the pony by his mane, pulls a revolver out from his jacket, shoves it in his mouth and pulls the trigger. Blood, bone and brain splatter on the bartender and the collection of bottles, and Royal Sentry shrieks and leaps back as the griffin's gang unloads on the group of patrons. The gang is ruthlessly gunned down in a barrage of flashes and explosive gunfire, including the mare, and when all calms down, seven bodies collapse to the floor, soaking in blood while bullet casings roll and gunpowder stinks the air. The bartender is nowhere to be seen.

Royal Sentry's ears are ringing at this point and he is too frozen to move, despite his wings at full length and muscles wound tight. When Kajil Ilb turns around he has speckles of blood all over his face. He leans towards the canine and speaks to him in a language Royal Sentry cannot understand. The canine nods, nudges a couple of others in the group, and the trio take off towards a stairwell near the back.

Kajil Ilb then approaches Royal Sentry, but despite how much the pegasus wants to move, he is still locked in place. Even his lungs become petrified when the griffin stands in front of him and uses his talon to wipe off a bubble of sweat crawling down his forehead. There are three more blasts from upstairs, screams of pain and another blast that silences it, bringing Kajil Ilb to smile and pat a corpse-stiff Royal Sentry on the shoulder like a comforting friend.

“You look a little sick," says Kajil Ilb. "Do you want some pizza? Kids love pizza.”

“Royal Sentry has been stuck with General Ilb ever since and became one of his best guys. Now, you get to kill him.”