All Roads Lead Home

Chapter Seven:
Into The Ring

“Passion is the friction between one's soul and the outside world.”

To be honest, I shouldn’t have slept using the journal like a comfort toy. My chest was sore, my neck stiff from the hard edges of the binding. Even the corners of my eyes were stained with jabs of pain. I stopped myself from groaning so I wouldn’t wake up Sea Mist, who was peacefully curled up and snoring away in the sheets.

I checked the timepiece in my bracer… then I checked it again.

I overslept.

That felt strange to think about. When I do sleep, it’s never more than a few hours at a time. Yet it happened. Yesterday really broke me. But what amazed me more was that I dreamed. Not a nightmare or a quick black void, but a real dream. I couldn’t remember most of it, but it was about somepony of light. A hero living to be loved. To be idealized and copied by those long past their trials and tribulations. To celebrate their improved world and be celebrated for it. To awaken each morning without guilt…

To know their work is done.

Another cryptic message from the Infinite I would have to ask my nana about. I would have to get used to that whole dreaming thing again. Actually, there were a lot of things to get used to now. It kind of felt like I was forgetting how to remember, before I met Misty. Not like, actually forgetting memories, of course, but I think being alone with me for a while has affected… Well, me.

I had a lot of time while writing to think about each friend here and how shitty I’ve treated them. What is wrong with me? Could I fix that? Do I still deserve it?

I got up and placed the journal in the same pouch as my PDA, exiting the guest room. If I wanted to start being better, then Silver is whose peace I wanted most.

Only Hoarfrost was in the dining room, coffee in his telekinetic grip. “Morn’n!”

A groan was the only response I could give, my vocal chords were a desert. He frowned a little and poured me a mug while grabbing a nearby box. “Sugar?”

I shook my head.

“Suit yourself.” Hoarfrost slid over the mug into my hooves. I quenched my mouth’s dry spell in three seconds without a care towards the burning on my tongue. Not like I could taste much of anything, anyways…

“Fifteen cartridges per cube… I’m not one for sweets and my bullets can’t deal with that sort of hobby.” I glanced around. “Okay, where’s everyone, and don’t you have another baby to kiss or something?”

“Fight nights, I get off to focus. You’d probably call it a ritual.”

“Okay, and…?”

“The others,” He finished off his drink and poured himself another cup. “Are exploring the station. I believe the couple went to the gunsmith to see what we use here. That cute pegasus said something about the… magic reactors, I think? He was bouncing around and speaking way too fast, but I'm pretty sure it was something mechanical.”

“Huh.”

“Since your chaperone is busy radioing the Order base, why don’t you explore around?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh wow… Does that adventuring come with assault? Sounds fun.”

“You know what I meant.” Hoarfrost lightly sang. “You know… I heard a little smoked fish restaurant opened near the hospital.”

My ears sprung up on their own. Forget the coffee, I was awake now. Fish first, then Silver Tongue. I knew he wasn’t expecting me, but I hoped he wouldn’t mind waiting a meal… or ten.

Hoarfrost slid a small pouch over, it stopped as it clanked against my drink. “Tell Spicy Broth I say hi.”

“I don’t really like how you did that.”

His head recoiled back a little. “What?”

“The action with what you said makes it seem like I’m either going into an ambush or sex dungeon.”

Hoarfrost spat out the drink he took onto the counter when I finished. The unicorn barely caught himself from falling as he half-laughed, half-choked. I’m surprised he didn’t notice it first, but I didn’t think it was that funny.

“Whelp, try not to die.” I grabbed the pouch of bullets and threw them in my vest, leaving him to slam the table like a drunk uncle at a party.

Back to the grimness of the streets below. It wasn’t all bad; I could get used to ponies not bothering me and just going about their day. Their presence alone as I squeezed my way past was enough social interaction for me.

My stomach rumbled, shaking my body. “Hehe…” I got the message and began trotting faster.

The restaurant was a cube of random materials at the end of the street corner with two open walls, discolored tarps hung from the roof hiding the patrons on the stools inside. A few of the tables outside were filled as well with ponies munching down on ukha, sinigang, lohikeitto, and many others. Fish was always one of the few dishes, with real variety, that dwellers could enjoy. For a higher cost of course, but it was worth every single bullet.

I stepped inside to an open kitchen with two cooks in long aprons: a young mare with her hair worn up and a towering blue stallion with scars running all over, accenting his muscular frame. Snapping fish heads off with just his hooves. He must be Spicy Broth.

“Cider. Cider,” The stallion whistled and the second chief rushed over. Cider took over fishes. Spicy Broth smeared the blood into his apron. “How can I— oh, a stalker? Well I’ll be damned. What can I do for you?”

“Sinigang, please.”

“Da, so you’re not from around here. That’s great! I usually have to get a bit forceful to sell the dish,” Broth filled a bowl from a simmering pot on the stove. “So what got you into zebra cuisine?”

“I’m from Friendship. Just grew up on the stuff.” My mouth started to water from just the smell! It may not be home cooked but hopefully it’s still good. Not even a millisecond after he placed the bowl in front me, I was tearing into the fish bits. The oil helped melt the meat away on my tongue with the hint of salt and pepper just piled onto it. Sour heaven is the only way to describe it.

“North… interesting. You know, the zebra mares from there have some nice asses.”

I stopped chewing to stare at him. It didn’t seem to faze him.

“I mean perfect. Hell, they’re basically begging ponies to fuck that—“

“Dad! Fucking disgusting!” Cider hollered at him.

“Come on, honey. You really think those weak, feminine stallions are what they want? Oh yeah stalker, that’s three cartridges.”

What the fuck was wrong with this guy?

“Cider, I buy you books, send you to school, and for what? They don’t even teach you the real history— that fuck Hoarfrost is only trying to make everything striped just like the school system,” Spicy Broth shook his head. “Celestia! Think of the children. You know what I was taught? They took the surface from us. Anypony that tries to spin the truth needs to beat up like the traitors they are.”

Wait…

My heart began to beat so hard that I could taste the blood in the back of my throat.

“They’re fine to assimilate but if they believe that can destroy our culture, those zigg—“

I cracked the bowl over Broth’s head and hopped over the counter. His daughter screamed while the rest of patrons were frozen in horror. I kicked him in the head as he tried to get back up.

“What’s your problem?” Broth growled through bloody teeth.

“My brother didn’t die so fucks like you could insult him.”

“Fuck are you on… oh! You’re that little traitor. Nice to know that—“ I began to slam my hoof against his skull…

…And I kept stomping. Long after they stopped trying to resist and began to sob. Their face looked something closer to a disfigured, wheezing pulp than a pony. Not even exhaustion could stop me.

But why wasn’t anypony? Cider didn’t know what to do. She just cried, pressing against the counter. Gradually, I stopped.

Did Hoarfrost… know?

Through the spaces between the privacy tarps, I watched guards patrol right past. Wolf watched from one of the tables outside. When we locked eyes, he simply got up and left.

Hoarfrost knew.

I tossed the pouch of bullets my “friend” gave me to Cider.

I needed to relax. Quick breaths, in and out. But my breathing still staggered. I just needed to leave. Just go. J-just… yeah.

No more detours. I went directly to the hospital and approached the secretary pony at the front desk. They already knew who I was here to see; nicely pointing to a room in the back. I nodded and moved, not planning on letting what I did sink in. Hoarfrost could have it later.

A well dressed mare stepped out from Silver Tongue’s room, three colorful balloons pinned to her collar. She softly smiled and waved as she walked past, “Hello.”

I nodded to the mare and entered Silver’s room. To an untrained eye, it looked like the doctors just put him in a bed, only removing the rod from his forearm, not bothering to even clean his blood off his coat, but it was quite the opposite. A rock glowed from inside the bandages that wrapped around his hoof like a cast. The artifact was slowly pulling the dried blood back into his body.

Silver Tongue was completely enthralled by it. Repeatedly, wetting his hoof with his own blood to only watch it fly through the air to his wound. He chuckled, “Wow.”

“I do that too.” My smile made Silver pause for a moment before returning his own.

“Wildcard, all this is just… wow. I’d like to think I get it now, but how could anypony abandon society like this? Actual doctors, medical— I saw those… shit, what do you call the buildings with… you know.”

“You mean restaurants?”

He nodded. “Yeah that. Sorry, my everything feels tired.”

I pulled over the doctor's stool from the corner and sat next to the bed. Silver frowned as I smeared blood over the cushion.

“Another fight?”

“Wouldn’t have called it that,” I turned away from his scowl.

“Have you tried talking to Blitz about the anger? I’m sure he can help.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. What if one day you can’t win a fight you start, huh? I don’t want to—“

I cut him off with a snarl, “To what? Stop me? Save me?”

“I don’t want to bury you.” Silver sighed.

Of course, he’d say that. How does anyone even respond to that? It’s a beautiful trap in language. A little white lie we say to try and convince ourselves that we’ll… I said the same thing to Amani, but I guess I lucked out…

…I had to say something though, push the lump out of the back of my throat.

I sighed, “You’ll never have to.”

He sighed before shaking his head.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

I simply raised a brow.

“Fine,” Silver chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting a one liner. Kind of cute.”

“Shut up.”

He winced in the middle of laughter, tenderly grabbing his wrapped hoof.

“You know, I never wanted to leave,” I shifted the stool cushion. “I love my home, but–”

I groaned and scratched the back of my mane. “Love burns us. But whatever, that’s the past. I’m interested in what that mare was doing in this room. Don’t tell me ponies are falling for the hurt puppy again.”

“Well,” It looked like Silver wanted to continue the last topic, but instead he shook his head. “No. She was asking about me… Wait shit, I mean my body? Said my blood was different from others and that ‘the Party’ would be interested in working with me. I’m going to be honest, I have no idea what the pretty mare was talking about. I just nodded along like I did.”

“Oh fuck. It’s been a while since I had to think about that… How long did the doctor say you had to stay?”

“A couple of days till all the blood was back and a few more till my bone was repaired? At least that's what they said.” He raised an eyebrow.

“So artifacts do work slower on you. Tha-that’s really cool actually.”

“I’m only going to ask: why?”

“Well, those here are born different. Genetically, we’ve been altered by all the magic bathing this city. It’s not bad… Well most of it isn’t, but some folks lose the draw, being born physically with something… strange: dragon scales across their back, an opposable tail, claws. Stuff like that and worse,” I sighed. “They call us the Children of the Zone.”

“Zone?”

“Just the name we use for the surface: the Zone of Alienation, or Zone if you like it short. I have no idea why it’s called that. Please don’t ask ‘why’ again.”

“Huh,” Silver leaned closer to me and smirked, “So, what’s your ‘superpower’?”

I sighed. “Oh, I actually don’t know. That’s gonna be a pretty common answer if you ask others, so don’t take it too personally. Not a lot of folks want to risk their life to find out they can eat wood or something.”

“That’s not a thing.” Silver smirked.

I paused and facehoofed. “You’ve seen a tree made out of pure light, but you draw the line at eating bark?!”

“I have to draw a line somewhere.”

That was fair to be honest. I guess personally, my line was misplaced a long time ago.

“So did Red Eye…”

“Uhh… sorry, did I miss something?”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?” He leaned back into the bed.

I shook my head.

“Did you know I heard all those grand speeches with a bruised face through a single ear? I don’t get why ponies even hate zebras anymore, but that wasn't the question rattling in my head while they beat me for looking like one. Honestly, I’m still trying to… understand why Red Eye personally stopped it. J-just why?”

I shifted my voice down. “Silver, I didn’t know…”

“I didn’t really want to tell anyone, but that’s not a choice anymore.” He shook his head. “Did he care? I mean… Did I do something t-that made me special?”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to answer.”

“Of course. I’m just being… poetic’s the word, right?”

I shrugged. “Dreamer, huh? Careful, you might turn into one of those wasteland heroes.”

“Only in a dream. Plus, heroes are perfect, not deaf in one ear.” Silver giggled and played with his right ear.

“You don’t need to be a hero to make a difference.”

“What?” He gave me a blank stare.

“Oh sorr–”

“I’m just messing with you, it’s the other one,” Silver composed himself. “I still can’t understand why he… I hate him for it. He marked me different than everyone else.”

I bit my tongue. He was more than the pony I met back in Manehatten. Even more than my blood brother. He’s a mirror pool.

I must have been unknowingly scowling, because Silver Tongue’s expression instinctively changed, like that of a brother.

“Sooo…” He rolled the syllable with tongue. “When do you leave?”

“Oh… umm… a few hours, give or take.”

“Where? It’s not too much to ask, right?” He asked softly.

“Home. I’m headed back to Friendship Station… shit!”

He jumped a little. “What?!”

“I don’t have a passport anymore. Fuck’n shit, shit! What about Blue? I don't think we could even get into the Ring stations without them…”

Silver’ eyes were wide and static, he was completely confused at my quiet rage. “A… a what?”

“Travel documents in a small stapled book about you: station of birth, religion, etc. You need one to enter most stations.”

“So me, Blitz, and the couple are going to need our own.”

I shrugged. “If you wanna travel, basically.”

“Wait… why didn’t we—?”

“The Old Guard is lenient towards ponies versus other species.” I interjected.

Silver pressed his lips into a thin line trying to process the information. I could guess that behind his eyes he was deciding on how he felt about this. It left him visibly distraught, every extra second he thought about it. So, he wanted more time to think and he moved on. “Huh… I guess it’ll be a while till I see you again.”

I shook my head. “I doubt that.”

“Why?”

“If I were smarter, I’d give you a really damn good reason why, “ I hopped off the stool. “But instead, it’s just a feeling.”

I could feel the trembles in the bandage hoof he grabbed me with. “Don’t say that. You know we will meet again.”

“Unlikely.” The lie even hurt me.

Silver Tongue pulled me in for an embrace that I accepted. He was trying to break me, I swear. Locking his hooves together like a colt behind my back. I don’t know why the warmth felt so fleeting.

“We’re still friends, right?” He whimpered.

I guess that’s why.

“Yeah… ” I pulled away and stopped when I got in the door frame. “It was nice knowing you.”

“You too.”

I wished someone else would just stab me, but no. I didn’t deserve that. Silver certainly didn’t. I could only hope that he would understand why I’m gonna do what I’m gonna do.

Hopefully.

======= ☢ =======

A few hours of wandering in the slums of large, tainted military tents led me to a curious sight. Blitz was just ahead helping a mare, her aged face blackened with grime in the trenches of their… scales. She greedily sucked from the canteen. The water rushed down the sides of her mouth and her webbed claws. Other ponies trotted by without care nor a look.

“Slow down, Foxglove! You don’t wanna choke.” Blitz tilted the canteen back a bit.

Foxglove let out a series of coughs after pulling her lips away to breathe. “Sorry!”

Blitz shook his head, noticing me standing there as he snickered. The mare stared up at me, pushing her limbs closer to her chest. My dark armor rig with bullet dents and marks clearly didn’t put her at ease. I kneeled and tapped my shoulder. The pony’s face softened after seeing the fading lunar eclipse.

Blitz cocked his head. “What’s the symbol?”

“Understanding.” Foxglove put it better in one word than I could do in a hundred.

“Under… standing? Hmm…” He rubbed his scruff of chin hair. “A little optimistic for a symbol, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but not for us,” She gestured to her face scales. “To be honest, I thought Rangers were a myth.”

“Most are, but I’m not.”

The lamps glimmered in her eyes as she smiled, a flickering light that didn’t even dare to touch the frightening and bewitching span of infinity above. I wondered if her dreams could even reach that high?

“Mind dealing me in?” Blitz pointed at me with a wing.

“It’s just a group of stalkers who don’t care about the gifts you were born with. Unlike some folks…”

He huffed. “I guess you can’t escape the past, can you?”

Both Foxglove and I nodded our heads. Even if he was probably referring to the Enclave for the thousandth time, he was right, but it was a little different in these tunnels. People only cared about bullets. A simple scale of showable power with each one planned to be used. It was a little morbid, but you could replace cartridges with corpses. Tea? Only a single soul. An artifact? Foal’s play. Eighty dead stalkers, on sale, too. Anyone who tried to introduce a new currency like caps, would be laughed at. How was a piece of tiny circle metal gonna save your life?

“Could you imagine what a society like this could do for the wasteland, Wildcard? Medical advances like out of a comic book. You guys literally have mundane looking magic items that tell the law of reality to fuck off. Don’t even get started on the magic reactors!”

“Wasteland? Like the surface? I think the early dwellers tried once…” She scratched her head.

“Sorry Foxglove, but this is gonna be confusing to you,” She mouthed ‘okay’ just before I continued. “Look Blitz, culture is different down here. The wasteland might be wild and dangerous, but everyone here didn’t forget the war. Hell, some think they’re still fighting it. Not even the end of the world could kill our bad habits…”

Blitz looked down at his hooves. “Hate. I got it.”

“No. Fear,” I shook my head, pointing to the murals, posters and guards littering every available space. “The Old Guard… this station runs on that. Almost everyone has a recorded history, except for the Old Guard societies. They ebb and flow to focus on what keeps them in power. The only history that’s known for sure, is that this faction was built under the shadow of the Equestrian ministries. I can’t tell which ones— I never focused on that shit in school— but it’s clear that it doesn’t matter now.”

“B-but the En—“

“Stop, just stop,” I cut off Blitz. “The Enclave lied to you. History is classist. You think pure pony or zebra history is gonna claim they did anything even remotely wrong? N—“

“You don’t think I know that?!” He snapped back, causing Foxglove to shrink into the floor. “That I’m some… umm… fuck’n stupid, complacent hoof soldier? What I was going to say was— don’t interrupt me!”

I lowered my objecting hoof.

Blitz exhaled hard. “The world messed up. I get that, but don’t you think submitting to nihilism is just wrong?”

“Yeah, I—“

“Exactly. So, what’s the point?” He interjected.

I tried my best to eliminate the deep twisting growl in my voice. “As much as you want to be blind to the decay of the past around you and move on, that is not how the world works. Even folks like you and me are affected by the past. That’s why the Old Guard still fight Stripes. In their eyes, room in heaven is limited, but hell is open free of charge to all.”

Blitz’s brow tightened, raised, then relaxed unsure of how to express his feelings. I simply sighed and put a hoof on his shoulder.

“It’s right to be kind and care for others, especially when we’re lost. I’ve been having problems with that lately…” I let my voice drone off on the last word.

Blitz sniffled and longingly looked at Foxglove, not in romantic drive but from a place of deeper love. Something more ingrained in our souls.

I gave him space. “Blitz, I… ahh fuck… Everyone trapped in these tunnels are different. My father said it best, but sadly I’m gonna butcher his poetry. ‘Everyone is born with gifts, regardless if it’s visible or hidden. It’s who we are.’”

Foxglove nodded at words.

“But,” I shifted into a darker tone. “The Old Guard doesn’t believe—“

“You. Get up.” I turned to see a pair of heavily armored officers staring down at the mare in the gutter. She uncontrollably shivered at the shadows entrapping her. One of the pair flicked off a switch on their pistol and Foxglove jumped to hooves.

I grabbed Blitz’s hoof as soon as he thought to step in. His face was twisted in disgust at my action against him, but I didn’t care. It felt like an anomaly, slowly and purposely trying to unravel my heart into strings of flesh. But couldn’t let him make a scene that Hoarfrost couldn’t control.

“Smart friend.” One of the officers scoffed before turning back to the mare to snarl, “On the power of the Sun and the behalf of Pinkie’s Party, you need to leave this station now, mutie.”

I let them walk her away, tears trailing her exit. Blitz ripped his hoof free away from my hold.

“What the fuck!”

“Blitz.” I tried to gesture from him to settle down but he wasn’t having any of it.

He grinded his teeth. “Her family lived here their whole lives... Explain. Now.”

“They don’t like those who don’t look like ponies.”

“But what about other species, like griffons?”

“They tolerate them until they need a new enemy to fear.” He turned to me horrified, maybe hoping I was joking. I could only bow my head. The old world was dying and the new one was struggling to be born.

“Attention one and all!” A voice echoed through the alley. “The fight of a lifetime at Apple Arena! The Community’s very own golden bird: Shrike Tyson! Versus our reigning heavyweight champion!”

“The Devil, Hoarfrost.” The announcer’s tone sharply deepened.

The Devil? Damn, that one is just bad.

“Sorry to cut this short but,” I sighed. “I need to go talk to him before the fight.”

“Yea—“

I pulled Blitz in for a quick hug trying my hardest to squeeze every last drop of warmth from his body. He was speechless.

“It was nice knowing you.” I whispered.

======= ☢ =======

Artifact power spotlights danced around the entrance of the concrete open dome. Ponies, griffons, yaks, and deer of all ages and economic backgrounds huddled through the gate where a ring of worn orange and white stood. The disembodied voice from earlier was passively observing the crowd from within the ropes with a smile. Then she removed a piece of glowing gum-like substance from her pocket and popped it into her mouth, chewing away vigorously.

“Attention. Attention!” She sounded off after a few coughs to overpower the noise. “Please take your seats! Our main event starts in five minutes!”

Everyone returned to their hushed wave of excitement.

“Sir,” I glared at the hoof blocking me. He shook his head. “No weapons in the arena.”

Begrudgingly, I rocked the magazine free from my rifle and top it off with the bullet from the chamber before handing over the gun. The guard slung it onto her back before pointing to a door off to the left. “The Chairpone is in the locker room. He wanted to talk with you.”

I nodded after looking her up and down. At least I didn’t need to wait till after the fight to ‘talk’ with him.

Hoarfrost tightened the straps on his gloves with his teeth, unaware the door had opened. There was sweat both on his brow and the punching bag next to his bench. I smelled vomit but couldn’t see any in the half gym, half locker room until walking past the open shower.

“I can smell the fish on your breath.” Hoarfrost chuckled.

“You knew?”

“I told you,” He sighed. “We had heroes.”

“Ponish, fuck’n speak it. Save the pretty words for somepony else.”

“Okay, how do you think I stopped the war? That I prayed? Begged?” He punched his gloved hooves together. “I hurt ponies. Destroy their belief in power. Ponies exactly like Spicy Broth, whose power comes from the perception of it. Just like the Party. And someone has to remind them they’re not the king.”

“Maybe I spent too much time on the surface,” I tightened my brow. “But is this really how the world works?”

Hoarfrost turned to look me in the eye and nodded. I shook my head. “So this is a game to you?”

“Don’t be facetious. I am not using pawns, they are. Hell, I’ll punch the world back into shape, alone, if I have to.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“It has so far.” He scoffed. “Also fuck off, you know that deep down you wanted to hurt that bully.”

Hoarfrost covered my muzzle before I could even respond. “Put a fish in it. What? You want me to ask you how it made you feel? Fine. How did it make you ‘feel’?”

“Sour…” I grimaced.

“Seriously, a one liner? What are you gonna break out the shades next?”

I scowled. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh? What’s wrong with me? Serenity, you can’t even let yourself seem happy! You know you’re allowed to be, right?”

“Not like that.”

“Like what then, huh?” He groaned.

“I don’t know.”

“Find out. Ask your little stable friend.” Hoarfrost pressed his lips into a thin line and got off the bench, shaking his head. “She’s stumbled into hell but she still smiles. Even the devil needs to grin a little sometimes.”

“So you get to give one li–”

A scrawny pony in headset popped his head in from the door. “Chairpone Hoarfrost, you're on in thirty.”

The motherfucker smirked at me gleefully before spinning around towards the pony. A little filly squeezed into the door and charged towards Hoarfrost, skidding into a spin as she got close. She was given a head rub. “Hiya! So you won the talent show? Wow!”

The filly giggled as he helped her onto his back and exited the locker room.

That two faced son of a bitch…

“Sir, the chairpone has a reserved seat for you ringside.” I almost forgot the skinny pony was still there. Rolling my eyes, I left the way I came from through the crowd towards the ring. The mixture of pony, griffon, yak, and deer chants melted into one singular drone of indiscernible noise. Signs, hooves, and claws punching the air. A few ponies were walking between the aisles selling refreshments. The ring side seats were filled with party members dressed in their finest snake skin, even the mare from the hospital was there, and…

“Howdy!” Gage waved then winced as Honey Tea punched him in the arm. She whispered something in his ear, which I could only assume was scolding. What a silly pair. I plopped down next to Honey. I must have been given the best seat in the arena because I could see both locker room entrances, each bathed in their own colored light.

The announcer popped up onto the stage and extended her hooves out to the thrilled crowd that roared as the lights dimmed. “Ladies and gentlecolts! We welcome you to the Apple Arena in the beautiful Sunlight Station as the Underground Boxing Association presents the featured bout of the evening. Sponsored by Pinkie’s Party and the Community Commission, it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for! Two titan-size champions in twelve rounds of boxing for the undisputed UBA Heavyweight championship of the Zone. Now… It's showtime!”

The spotlights exploded, beautifully washing over the audience with practiced bravado. I could feel the air of anxiety from the fans fluttering out of their shakes and screams. When the announcer seemed pleased with the reaction, she proceeded, “Introducing first, on my left, fighting out of the blue corner!”

The darkened cerulean silhouette of a griffon with wings spread proudly hovered before flying towards the ring. With a thud, he landed to a mixture of boos and cheers.

“Wearing black mitts from Iron Station, Community! He has a professional record of 57 victories, including 34 K.O.s, and only 3 defeats. The challenger, Lightning Shrike Tyson!” She rolled every syllable out of the golden griffon’s name, milking the crowd for everything they had. I got why called him ‘lightning’ as he jabbed a flurry of blows onto an invisible opponent.

But the tone of the arena changed as soon as the blue light over the locker room entrance went out. The floor shook as ponies all around began stomping their hooves in rhythm. “And, on my right, fighting out of the red corner!”

Bathed in crimson, Hoarfrost’s shadow reached out all the way to the center of the arena. The stomping increased in speed as he sauntered over the ring.

“Wearing purple mitts, he has an undefeated professional record of 71 victories, all by knockout! Your reigning champion! The Devil of Sunlight Station: Hoarfrost!”

He ducked his head in and out of the ropes, which must have been another one of his rituals, before finally entering the ring. Hoarfrost didn’t puff out his chest like his opponent nor even shadow box. He stood looking down straight at me. I couldn’t tell if it was his mask or not. My brother told me a great stalker could see into someone’s soul. Doesn’t matter if they wear a mask, hat, some reflective shades, or a hoodie. You can’t hide, and I liked to believe that I could see Hoarfrost.

I thought the announcer was the referee too, as she brought the two to the center of the ring and spoke in hushed tones to both of them. After a few heartbeats, they retreated to opposite corners. I was sure she was the ref as she removed a matchstick and rusty bell to strike it across. The match disappeared as the bell burst into flames causing Gage and Honey to jump in their seats. The fire didn’t seem to hurt the mare as she pressed the artifact into the floor of the ring. A wave of flames pulsed from the arena. One of the food vendor’s magic vanished causing him to drop his tray of grilled mushrooms. He started crying as his boss came by to scold him.

The starting bell turned my attention back to the ring. Shrike and Hoarfrost approached each other. I could barely keep up with the rapid sucker punches from the griffon. Hoarfrost had no time to react, taking blow after blow until he spun and hit the mat. The audience hollered as the referee began counting him. Hoarfrost punched both gloved hooves down and picked himself up before three.

Again they met in the middle, same story. Lightning struck twice, and again he was on the ground. Hoarfrost got up this time before five. It was hard to watch his face become bruised again, but he was knocked down to the floor once more. Shrike breathed heavily, their gloves more red than black now.

What arose the third time… wasn’t him.

Hoarfrost’s pale green eyes went blank, like he was dead. He walked forward slowly–the knots of his mane drenched in blood and sweat– not putting up even a single hoof to block. My heart dropped as the griffon slammed a hook into his jaw causing his head to snap to the side. Hoarfrost looked straight at Shrike with a smirk. He said something to his opponent, a single word. I think it was ‘please’, but whatever it was scared the griffon. Shrike’s eyes went wide as he tried to get away from the pony, but it was in vain. Hoarfrost caught him, trapping him in the corner. He finally threw his first punch at the chest, then jabbed the face… followed by an uppercut to the chin… he didn’t pause even when the griffon began falling. Hoarfrost grabbed his falling body and put him back up to hit again. It was like the world vanished around him as he– I got it now, why they called him The Devil. He was letting it out.

I wish I didn’t know what he could be feeling deep inside, but lucky me. In the ring was me and Spicy Broth. A broken pulp of blood that apparently used to be face. Hoarfrost wouldn’t stop until his hooves broke, or Shrike did.

The referee got in between them and the bell rang. They called it a T.K.O., his 72nd one.

======= ☢ =======

“Hell of a fight, bud.” Gage patted Hoarfrost on the back as we traveled down the alley.

I smirked. “Yeah, way to block with your face.”

“Wildcard!” Honey Tea punched me in the shoulder.

“Relax. He’s not wrong.” Hoarfrost, his face battered and swollen, waved a hoof. Honey huffed, rolling her eyes in response.

“So, when are we leaving?” I felt like it was the perfect time to ask.

“Now.”

“Now?”

“Wait, leaving?” Gage and Honey said in unison during our conversation.

I nodded. “I’m heading back home and… well, Hoarfrost wanted to come. But Hoarfrost, what do you mean now? What about our stuff?”

“Dusk took care of it. She and Sea Mist should already be waiting for us at Lunar Square.”

“And what about passports?”

Hoarfrost blew a raspberry. “Passport? Come on. You’re with me. You don’t need one.”

He probably never even lost his passport before. Fuck me, this is gonna a rough trip.

“So, it was nice meeting you two. Real lovely couple–”

Hoarfrost stopped in his tracks followed by Gage and Honey then me. A young mare stood not a few steps in front of us. A revolver leveled at us with her magic, pupils the size of pinpricks. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, nervous, or on the verge of tears. I don’t think it mattered much to Cider what I thought… but I deserved this. If she shot me, I wouldn’t attack or try to help myself. Just accept my actions as solely my own.

Gage had a different idea. He tenderly approached Cider, making notes about how his body language made her react. He towered over the mare by at least two and half times her height. Gage kneeled down, the revolver now aligned with the center of his forehead. Cider flinched as he grabbed the gun with a claw and pressed into his head, not removing his stare from her. Loud silence followed by the revolver being crushed as Gage closed his fist, parts raining down to the station floor.

“Go home, kid.”

The words caused Cider to fall to the ground into a mess of tears. Ponies that passed by only glanced at her before going about their business. No one would care about another soul.

I know I was supposed to feel something like… sadness? Remorse? But I couldn’t explain why I didn’t feel anything. What was with me? Maybe Hoarfrost was right.

I think I’m broken.

Hoarfrost gave a light tug on my jacket. “Let's move on. We shouldn’t make your friends wait.”

We split off from Gage and Honey, traveling the same back alley that we did as foals. It was all the same. The same bodies in the gutter. The same eyes in the windows. The same oppressive shade from the taller buildings blocking out wall lights.

Was this all we are? Selflessly focusing on nothing but bullets and preparing to kill those who could be friends? What if I killed Spicy Broth? Would Cider have shot? Would Gage have crushed her skull in retaliation? What made me special enough to be given the right to kill someone else? …Was it just because I had a powerful friend?

I thought I was gonna vomit. I can’t take another life if I don’t have to.