Humans are slaves to them. Nothing but toys that are thrown away when the owner doesn’t want them anymore. But the worst is the underground fighting ring that some of the ponies have set up, pitting one man against another until the other can’t stand, or can’t breathe.

“Get a move on boy!” a large stallion with a black coat said, prodding me with a cattle iron to ensure I don’t fall behind. I walk the best I can with the strain of the heavy chains that bind my hands, feet and neck. Fresh bloods as we called them were new Humans that have been sold to be slaughtered for the pony’s entertainment. The one In front of me only looked to be about sixteen and he was clearly terrified, he was probably a house servant to the rich in Canterlot or Manehattan before ending up here.

“A better life then this.” I thought to myself sadly, as we stopped at our dugouts to wait for our bloody battle. Feeling the chains come undone and taking my seat next to the scared boy, I look towards him as he mumbles and cries into his hands.

“What’s your name mate.” I ask extending my hand out to him.

“Umm…um K…Kyle sir.” He says taking my hand and shaking it with a trembling grip.

“Well Kyle, you ever been in a fight before?” I ask him. He shakes his head and sniffles.

“Why, why did I have to be taken from my home, from my family, from my friends?” he mumbles in-between sniffles. I put an arm around him feeling his hurt all too well.

“I can’t tell ya mate, but what I can tell you is keep your distance, fresh bloods love to rush in and try to finish it quick, but most don’t have any experience or aren’t that fit. So, wait till he is exhausted, then swing as hard as you want.”

“Your up pipsqueak” the black coated stallion said pointing at the young Kyle. Kyle, trembling follows him up the stairs and into the light.

“Good luck Mate, you’re going to need It.” I think to myself as I look down at the cloth wrapped around my hands. I don’t need to wrap them, but I do it out of tradition and to give my hands more of a chance of surviving any punches thrown. I feel my shins, hard and bruised from continuously kicking the wooden beam that I tape my pillows to. I think about my past life, about my family, my wife and my unborn child. I hear the crowd cheer and the sound of clapping, I snap out of my daydream as I look up, Kyle gets pushed back down the steps and gets placed next to me.

“Keep that up and I’ll skin you alive, got it!” the stallion growled. “I Expect to see a fight, not you run around for 3 minutes like a headless chicken!”

Kyle nodded his head. “Yes sir.”

The stallion looked at me and nodded towards the stairs.

“Come on champ, its show time!” he says with a massive smile on his face. I nod and stand up walking to the steps and climbing them.

“Thank you mister, and good luck to you!” Kyle shouted. I stop, give him a thumbs up and continue my climb. I walk out onto the dirt and get greeted by a cheer and a loud voice booming over.

“Fillies and gentlecolts it is time for the event you have all been waiting for! I’m your host Mustang Shine and these are your fighters!” The stallion called Mustang shouted, drawing every word just a touch.

“In the blue section! Weighing sixty-nine kilograms from the eastern human tribes! Give it up for Marcus!” As he said that, a man looking to be in his early twenty’s walked forward and was then slapped with a blue x on his back. He walked forward nervously and looked around, the crowd booing him.

“And in the red section! From the frozen north tribes! Weighing a hefty eighty-three kilograms! You know him as the reaper of souls! It is Björn Frozenheart!” He yells drawing out my name even more. The crowd rises in thunderous applaud as I have a red x slapped onto my back. We walk towards the center of the dirt ring and stare at each other, I look slightly down at him, me being taller than him and put my hand out to shake his, he accepts it and I see the fear and fire in his eyes.

“I remember when I had them eyes” I think to myself as we turn to Mustang.

“Alrighty now! You know the rules, there are none! First to fall unconscious or die will lose! Lose two fights in a row and well, it’s off to the labor house for some fun, hard work for the rest of your life! Is that clear?” Me and Marcus nod and look to each other once more, I bow with my hands in a prayer then walk towards the little starting square marked out for me.

“Are you ready!” Mustang yells making the crowd cheer in anticipation. “Well then FIGHT!”

The massive gong rings and I step into my square stance and slowly shuffle forward. Marcus on the other hand throws his hands in a boxing stance and rushes forward. He brings his right arm back and as he steps onto his lead leg with a wild swing, I duck to my left and plant a left hook into his side. As he grunts, I swiftly skip behind him and teep him away, he stumbles and regains but with anger fueling him now he roars and charges at me. I stand my ground and start to block and weave as much as I can, he throws wild punch after wild punch. I see my opening as he throws a big wild right again and I rush forward catching him off guard and wrapping him into the clinch. I place my grip firmly on the bridge of his neck and head with my elbows tucked and hips trust forward. Marcus having no control tried desperately to get away, he threw wild punches at my head and body with no effect. Marcus started to tire and as his arms dropped, I stepped back and threw a clean elbow that hit flush with his eyebrow. Blood was flowing freely down the open gash made from the clean hit and Marcus reeled back in pain at the sudden attack. I step forward with a left jab which he blocks desperately covering his face, a rookie mistake as I then throw a clean right knee that smashed into his ribs. He gasped for air and as his hands lowered to cover his rips, I place a clean right hook onto his jaw dropping him to the ground. He looks up with a wide blank stare and tries to stand. As he does, I place the flat of my foot right across his face causing him to crash face first into the dirt, blood dribbling from his mouth.

The crowd roared in a thunderous chant of Reaper repeatedly. I look up at Mustang who gives me a thumbs up and a wicked smile, I nod and turn to the still asleep Marcus, the blood starting to pool around his face from the cut on his brow and mouth. I bow like last time and walk back to the dugout; Kyle looks up as I walk down and jumps up to greet me extending his hand.

“Hey um, I just wanted to say thank you again mister Björn was it? He paused waiting for my response.

“Yeah kid, Björn’s my name.” as I go to shake his hand again, I hear the black stallion behind me yelling.

“Come on you no furs back to the petting zoo.” the stallion takes the chains that were used to bring us here and clips them back onto me and Kyle.

We walk back in silence to the sleeping and training cells, or as the slavers like to call it, the petting zoo. I notice the slaves that had lost were being dragged to the whipping post, it’s a horrible fate for those unlucky enough to be beaten in this death game. Two in a row and its more than just a whipping, that’s when heads start rolling or you are sent away for hard labor. I still remember the first time I lost a match; it was my third fight and I was too cocky. I rushed in ignoring all signs and got blinded by a haymaker to the temple. It was a harsh whipping, the pain all too memorable in my mind. I vowed to never lose again.

We arrived at the five by five-meter cell and the stallion removed the chains and poked us in.

“You will be sharing a cell since your last cell mate just couldn’t handle the heat anymore.” He laughed at the thought of the old human that had been my cell mate. He was forty-six and couldn’t keep up with the amount of punishment anymore.

Kyle looked around the cell and sat on the empty bed roll. He felt like such an idiot for trusting that little filly when she said that she wanted to be his friend. She led them to the village, he knew that deep down it was his fault.

“I know what you’re thinking mate.”

Kyle looks up at me in surprise.

“What do you mean Björn sir?”

“You think it’s your fault for being here but get that notion out of your head. You can’t survive in this place thinking everything is your fault clear your head and just focus on getting stronger.” I say to him as I lay down on my bed roll, my tattered blood-stained shirt placed beside me.

“Björn sir?” Kyle asked quietly.

“Yeah mate.” I respond turning my head to look at him.

“How long have you been here for?”

“Three years.”

Kyle looked up in shock at what I just said.

“How old were you.” Kyle asked.

“Seventeen.” I say scratching an itch on my stomach

“Does it get any easier.” Kyle asked, with a hopeful look on his face

“In my experience kid.” I say as I look him directly in the eye. “It never does.”

Author's Note

Here we go with a brand new story i have a good feeling about this one