The scent of blood, sweat, and the aftermath of ponies having a few too many drinks hits my nostrils as the grinding of the elevator fills my ears. My snout wrinkles uncontrollably in disgust. I smell this at least once a week, three times if it's a good week, and yet I never get used to it, knowing I never will. There is a sudden loud clang as the elevator shudders to a stop. The cheering and screaming is no longer a slight hum nearly drowned out by the elevator, but a constant undulating sound that always gets my nerves up and my adrenaline rushing. As the doors of the elevator open, I trot out and adjust my dented and dull armor. It’s a muted gunmetal blue, marred with dents and scratches. It wraps around my chest, covering my entire ribcage and sides with jointed plates that join together seamlessly, but allow me to move without restriction. On the back and front, more jointed plates extend to cover my flanks and upper forelegs in the front and to the sides, and even more plates travel down my back to protect my spine. Nothing adorns my head other than my horn, for there are no helmets allowed.

The bright light of the arena blinds me momentarily as I step out onto the blood-stained sands, taking a moment to sweep my mane out of my eyes. I survey the circular arena, taking great care to avoid eye contact with the spectators as much as possible, so as not to give them a reason to follow me and beat me on the street. We’re underground, yet artificial lighting floods the stands and the sand my lavender hooves rest on.

The place isn’t super large--only about 100 meters across, with around 10 rows of stands that are packed full. All those ponies watching me, cheering me on to kill somepony makes me feel small, but I push through it knowing it's not as bad as it seems.

The door on the opposite side of the arena grinds opens and my opponent staggers out. He is a pegasus with a light green coat and a messy dark gray mane. His coat and mane are covered in stains from blood, vomit, and sweat. The stallion’s wings are scarred and grimy, feathers falling out as he simply extends them to keep balance. It doesn't work though and he stumbles when his hooves hit the uneven sand, tumbling down ungracefully and eliciting a roar of laughter from the crowd. I easily see he is one of the unfortunate souls they found on the streets and ponynapped, kept in a tiny cage barely larger than himself with no food and only the smallest amount of water, until it's time for him to fight. He is weak, dehydrated, and starving, and I’m going to have to kill him.

There’s nothing I can do; if I don’t kill him, or if I show mercy in any way, I will, at best, be stalked on my way home and beaten savagely for showing weakness, and at worst, be killed before I can escape this place. I just hope I can make it quick and painless for him. But I've been doing this for almost two years now and I know that they always fight back, because if they win they get released, as well as a large sum of bits.

I don’t want to kill him, but I don’t have much of a choice. I come here to keep my family from toppling into poverty. For each fight I get 250 bits; for a really good fight I can get up to 500. I’m not just in this for the money, though.

My parents are too old to have any sort of job, and when my brother was taken to guard Equestria’s ruler, nopony was left to support my parents and I. It is common knowledge that whoever falls deep into poverty and doesn’t end up starving on the streets, get nabbed by Gladmane, either to be an expendable cog in the factories or as a test subject in one of his many ‘helpful’ projects. So I took it upon myself to keep either of those scenarios from happening to those that I love.

The screaming from the crowd snaps me out of my reverie and draws my attention back to the fight I’ve been gearing up for all night. The announcement system crackles on, and a voice blasts through the underground stadium, making my ears ring.

“Mares and gentlecolts, I am pleased to welcome you to our nightly Underground Illegal!” The name had come from back when Equestria was in order, the Princesses of the Sun and Moon still ruled, and Princess Celestia still had her horn and wings: back then, fighting rings were illegal and often located underground to avoid being discovered. The voice continued, “Tonight I would like you all to welcome our two fighters. On the left we have Whirlwind! He’s a pegasus from… well who knows, and frankly, who cares!” The crowd roars in laughter at that, some even falling over in their drunk state. The voice keeps talking, not bothering to stop for the crowd. “And in the right corner, we have our well-known long-running champion, our unicorn of immense power and might, The Mighty, The Merciless, The Magical--” I prepare for the roar that always comes after my name in the Underground Illegal “--Twilight Sparkle!”

Author's Note

Enjoy!
[Updated] Edited now.