Scuff

by a kobold

Rating: teen
Tags: Thriller, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Profanity, Violence, Dark
Length: 1897

A scuffle on the street. Unicorns learn to fight smart, not hard.

Fleecing ponies for all they're worth is a dangerous occupation, so Easy Mark has learned a few more skills than his talent might suggest. When certain unsavory sorts come to collect, he shows them that it's not the power you're packing in your horn, but how you use it.

After writing a fight scene for another fic I realized I could use some more practice with it. The idea note for this one was just "unicorn street fight."

Published 2025-01-21 16:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2025-01-21 16:20:01 UTC

Scuff

Easy Mark wasn’t expecting the thugs.

Well, of course he had been expecting thugs, with crimson snake eyes on his flank, his luck always ran out eventually. But he hadn’t been expecting them there, stepping out of the alley behind the convenience store. He hadn’t expected them then, just when his horn flashed bright red, changing his coat and mane colors back to their typical white and black. He hadn’t expected them because it had only been a couple hours since he had robbed the mobster blind.

Tony the Pony was holding a grudge.

Luck was a fickle thing though, that was something Easy Mark knew better than the three goons arrayed before him, menacing with thick metal horseshoes and heavily scarred muzzles. When your luck runs out, you learn to make your own. He’d lived his whole life by that law, and so there was another thing that he knew for sure.

They weren’t ready for him.

The earth pony stepped up first, of course. Boring brown and beige and barely blinking with brainpower, Mark knew the sort. Their chips went down easy but the rest of ‘em went pretty hard. The pair, predictably a pegasus and unfortunately unicorn, held back. He never quite understood that, maybe it was a pride thing, or the brown bumpkin was just that boneheaded, and he caught the twitch in the stallion’s eye in the glaring white exterior lights when he chuckled at his own alliterations.

Pride, then.

Magical reserves were a precious thing in a fight, not every unicorn could be gifted with magic, most just had enough to get by. This was another area where fortune had stacked the deck for him, however, he had more talent than most of the talentless, and he was smarter to boot. You didn’t need flashy displays when it was simple enough to give a charging pony a little nudge, stumbling them on their own hooves and giving them a polite buck to the flank, plastering them against the cold metal of the nearest dumpster.

The earth pony down for a moment, not out, the pegasus swooped, wrapped in a shimmering purple haze.

Their unicorn was competent enough, even worse news, and the same trick wouldn’t work quite so well twice. Easy Mark held tricks in spades. The pegasi and the earth ponies were always so complacent about unicorn horns, they saw them as tools for tricks, always neglecting the real purpose of a horn. There wasn’t any magic needed when the midnight blue pegasus bolted down from the air. A simple step to the side and a lance with his horn gouged a strip of bright shiny red through dark fur. It glittered, beading blood in the garish light.

The pegasus screamed and flopped to the cold asphalt, quickly dragging himself out of harm’s way.

His eyes flicked cooly around for his last opponent. The unicorn was gone from the mouth of the alley. He had just enough time to reflect that that was a terrible sign before his mouth opened in a reflexive cry, pain lancing up his side. His eyes snapped over and his leg kicked and the unicorn disappeared in a shimmering flash of purple. Whoever they were, they had copied his trick and then some, showing off. He tracked the unicorn back to center, a few yards away, eyeing him and strutting. A mare, he realized, breathtaking black coat, piercing purple eyes, and a senseless and esoteric purple swirl studding her flank.

Not just a competent unicorn, a talented unicorn.

“You make yourself tough to find, Easy.”

“I prefer Mark. There’s nothin’ easy about me.”

Bluster wouldn’t save him, tough as it was. Snake eyes struck again, stumbling on a mare like this and not the dregs of whatever magic school the gangsters could peddle powders at. She was keeping away, her stab had been showboating, but she clearly knew where her strengths lay. The blockhead was recovering, pulling away from the metal dumpster with freshly found balance. It could always be worse though, the pegasus had left a skid of red and was now curled up in a tight ball behind some trash bags.

Still, the mare alone would have been a struggle, two on one was still slim odds.

The earth pony was more cautious now, conservative with the pride beaten out. Mark was almost impressed to see one learn a lesson so quickly. Almost, because it made his crummy odds worse.

“You know my name, might I inquire about the fine mare to whom I owe the pleasure?”

She was too smart for him to stall, but he really needed the time to think of something. She wouldn’t give it to him, not easily. Rather than an answer, he felt a warp of purple magic around him, entirely surrounding him, but a sharp burst of energy poked a hole in the envelope and collapsed her hold. It was just a test, something to keep him on the hooves while the blockhead closed the space.

So he had an idea, and it was a really stupid one, but hey, he might get lucky.

Unicorn magic for the untalented masses is a fickle thing, most advanced magical arts are simply out of reach. The trick is in your cutie mark. The magic flows easier where your talents are relevant, even unicorns lacking in raw power can pull off talented feats along the lines of their specialty. Easy Mark’s talent, snake-eyes, well he always thought he had a knack for gambling, for chance, for fleecing ponies who didn't know better, but there's one more important thing about dice, a subtle little secret that gave his magic that unexpected edge.

They come in pairs.

To the left, Easy Mark stepped out of himself, a perfect mirrored reflection remaining behind. To the right of that reflection, another clone of himself. Two clones– a pair, imperfect illusions but perfect enough to trick the earth pony that was charging headlong for the center clone. The blockhead overcommitted, leapt in for a tackle, and smashed into asphalt when he passed clean through the flickering reflection.

Mark followed up with a stab of his horn.

It was hurried and off-target, only managing to cut a clean red slash through the pony's cutie mark– a brass horseshoe, really?– before he was wrapped in magic and casually tossed away. He came down hard, rolled, stumbled back to his hooves, his back leg almost giving away in a flash of hurt.

His eyes narrowed, surveying the scene.

The earth pony was limping, and the unicorn’s eyes kept darting back and forth between him and Mark. He couldn't help but notice the way she didn't extend that courtesy to the pegasus huddled in a groaning heap a short distance away. A personal relationship with the blockhead? He could use that.

Of course, there was only enough juice in the tank for one last gambit.

Greedily, he pulled all the magic he could find into his horn. It lit a red beacon, bloody and dripping past his muzzle. Of the magical arts that separated the talented from the talentless, the foremost among them was teleportation. Only the most talented had the reserves to use it spontaneously, the way the mare had, but Mark had learned the technique. It made for an unexpected ace in the hole, especially given his unique predilection.

His horn flashed, the world spun, he teleported.

The earth pony’s other flank was suddenly right in front of him, Mark’s horn still glowing fierce red as he made good on his earlier attempt, sinking the horn deep into the other, unblemished flank. And then, pairs again, his horn withdrew and flashed before the unicorn could get a fix on him.

He teleported not behind or beside her, but above.

His weight dropped onto her, his foreleg finding her horn and forcing it to the ground, forcing it at an angle that he could easily snap the hardy ivory. It was a simple thing, even completely exhausted from forcing two teleports in a row, he weighed more, had more muscle, more experience in a hoof-to-horn scuff. Her horn sizzled and sparked and winked out when she tried to counter him.

Victory was his.

Now he just had to figure out how to get out of here. He was in a dominant position, but any getaway would cede his position in an instant. Every limb felt heavy, his magical reserves zeroed, and releasing the unicorn's horn to escape would end with her using magic that he couldn't counter. The simple solution, the unfathomable solution, was to simply break her horn and trot away.

However, there were some things you simply didn't do, some threats you don't ever want to make good on.

“What do you say you admit you've lost and let me walk?”

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

“You might’ve noticed the position you're in…” He pressed firmer on her horn.

“You won't do it. Not if you want to keep calling yourself a stallion with ‘standards.’”

Damn. For once he wished his reputation hadn't preceded him.

“Besides, we both know I win the long game. I can hear you panting in my ear. Poor talentless unicorn spent everything he had on just two teleports!”

He grit his teeth rather than rise to the bait. The earth pony was eyeing them both, wary, apparently still concerned about the threat that Mark was showboating. Clearly, he wasn't aware of the unspoken rules and taboos that held their bout in limbo.

Luckily, always luckily, there were other sorts of damage you could do.

It was tricky to maneuver, keeping her horn pinned, keeping the rest of her body pinned, angling his head just so to press his horn to the flesh behind her shoulder blade. He shoved it in. She gasped and flinched and tried to wrestle him free and that only dug the horn in deeper, the pain eventually forcing her to settle down.

Now he just had to solve her horn.

His own ivory withdrew, red and bloody and dripping, staining his perfect white muzzle. One hoof patted along the mare’s side, finding her saddlebags. One by one, he withdrew the contents, a clear goal in mind. It was hard to take a unicorn as prisoner, even with a superior one as backup, and he knew they wouldn't come without some countermeasure for his horn.

His attention was briefly stolen by a missive addressed to one “LADY LUCK.”

His jaw dropped, and a sudden jerk beneath him almost cost his balance. He dropped the missive and jabbed the hoof into the bleeding wound he'd given her, then set back to digging through the bag. Eventually, he found it. A solid metal ring adorned with a small gem. Just holding it sent pins and needles through his body, a creation of magic that was somehow antithetical to magic itself.

He slipped the ring over the mare’s horn and sighed in relief.

With his victory as secure as he could hope, there was only one thing left to do. He summoned the dregs of his magic into a blinding flash, and then he galloped away, as hard as he could. In the back of his mind, he couldn't stop thinking. Lady Luck. What a coincidence, what a twist of fate.

What luck indeed.