Leaning back in my awesome, free first-class seat, I can’t help but smile. Anne seems to have gotten used to the seats as well, although she’s perched on the back of one like a hawk watching a meadow.

Turning to her, I decide on some small talk. I figure I might as well brush up on that, considering she’s in the running for my affections... we’ll have to talk sometime, right?

“So, Anne, uh... how have you been?” Man, I am rusty at small talk. Still, she turns, smiles and responds.

“Oh, things have been pretty fine lately. I think Fluttershy’s still hoping we get together. I’ve seen her working on some rather... large nests. Also, did you know she knits?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen her do it... once. And does she really expect us to have, like, a bird nest? You’re still pretty human, so why not just a house? I think she spends too much time with those animals.”

“I think it’s because I keep making ‘nests’ out of the blankets she gave me. They’re so comfy, and let me rest my, ah, chest problems. I think they’re hand-quilted by Fluttershy. Or, hoof-quilted, I suppose.” We both get a chuckle out of her verbal stumble.

“So you mentioned that you were uh... smaller back on Earth? What do you think caused your chest to, uh, explode?”

“Idunno. I woke up in that ‘Wonderland’ place, and I was like this. though, I think they were smaller then, and they may have grown during my time there. Which is a little weird, given that I wasn’t eating at all.”

Girls eating makes their breasts bigger? Well, I guess you learn something new every day. “So were you also taller or is you being short a normal thing?”

She blushes and gives me a somewhat harsh look, hiding behind her feathers as she yells at me. “I’m not short! Everyone else is just too tall!”

“Wow, we talk about your boobs suddenly turning into watermelons and you’re fine, but mention height and you explode... well, I’ve met weirder people. And as for the ‘short’ thing, I know it’s annoying, I dealt with it for quite a while.”

“... I actually got taller here.” Wait, taller? She’s, like, five-foot-two!

“So... genetics, bad luck, or were you cursed? Being short isn’t a problem but... damn woman!”

She sighs, and slumps slightly on her perch, her wings going back to her sides. “Both my parents are at least five-foot-six, and I had two older brothers, who were both at least six-foot-something. My parents teased me a bunch, like parents do, but I got made fun of in school for it. I actually used to be almost short enough to be medically a midget.” she looks downcast.

“Well, uh... you’re not anymore, right? Here in Equestria you’ll be considered fairly average height for a biped... I think.”

She sighs again, and shuffles down until she’s on the seat, hunkering down like a chicken. She leans over, and puts her head on my shoulder. “Yeah, I guess... you’re still taller than me, and Myrna is so huge... not in a fat way, though! I just mean... how big do you think she’d be if she still had legs?”

“Beats me, lots of things change when you get morphed with another animal. Especially non-mammals. Speaking of, this might be a bit far but... what kind of ‘equipment’ do you have? I know lots of birds have a cloaca and-”

Anne shuts me up with a ringing, stinging slap across the face, her own a solid blue-green. I reach up to touch my face as I feel something wet, and pull my hand back to find it’s covered in blood. Almost immediately, Anne’s demeanor shifts, and she starts apologizing profusely.

“I-m s-so sorry! I d-didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry!” She’s shrunk back in her seat, and she looks horrified. It’s just a few cuts in my face, which are beginning to sting, but I don’t feel hanging flaps of skin or anything, so they obviously aren’t that bad.

“If your wings are poisonous too, this is going to be one very unpleasant trip for you, fair warning.”

She squeaks and hides under her wings, looking like she wishes she could die. Judging by the noises she’s making, that might be an accurate assessment of her opinion of herself. I’ll admit, I may have possibly totally deserved that slap, but now she’s freaking out.

“My problem isn’t with what you did... okay it kinda is, but you could have just said ‘too far’ and I’d drop the subject. Not my fault for being curious what sort of anatomy changes are made when you become a hybrid!”

She meeps softly from under her wings, slowly spreading some feathers to peek out from behind. She looks like she’s crying... damnit.

“Although I can’t fault you for that reaction, it was a little uncalled for, especially when you are covered in metal blades. Next time you have a problem, we’ll just talk it out. If we can agree on that, I’ll forget this ever happened... once I stop bleeding.” She nods her head from inside her screen of bronze feathers.

After a quick look-around for a first-aid kit, we get my face bandaged up, Anne’s feathers working excellently as a mirror. No more than an hour later, we’re arriving at our stop, and we grab our stuff and step off the train. I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting the sight that greeted me.

A series of tall, tree-like spires rise like skyscrapers, a tangled mass of wood, stone, and steel. A wall appears to surround the town, easily more than eighty feet thick, though I realize that can’t be what it is when I see griffons and pegasi flying into and out of holes in the sides of the ‘wall’. The midst of the city is split by a river, emptying into the sea, and boat ply across it. The ground is choked with species going about their day, the traffic so incredibly dense that there’s aerial lanes that have developed traffic. Above the spire-like buildings is a thick layer of cloud cover, and from here I can spot architectural designs, the clouds themselves another layer well above the city that continues to support more lives.

I hear Anne whistle beside me, appreciative of the odd level of normalcy the city exudes to us earthlings. I can’t help but echo the sentiment, though I’m not as adept at whistling as she is.

“So, this is where we’ll be staying for two months. I kinda expected it to be, Idunno... inside a mountain or something with a bunch of individual rooms carved into a sort of networking tunnel system with a whole bunch of outside access...”I turn to Anne. “What were you expecting?”

“Uhm, well... I’ve been to Chicago. And this... this looks rather like it. Other than the wall, that is.” She looks around, her feathers fluffing up somewhat.

That gets me thinking. “So if Manehattan looks like Manhattan and Chickago looks like Chicago... a lot of these places are based on Earth places. What’s Ponyville supposed to be?”

“Uhm... Nowhere, Illinois? It’s a real place...”

“Yeah, but isn’t Illinois like, really hot? Oh these ponies and their weather control is just confusing. Anyway, let’s figure out where we’ll be staying. I don’t think sleeping outside will be as comfortable as back home. Er, I mean in Ponyville.”

Anen nods in agreement, and we start off towards the city at large, trying to find somewhere to rest our heads for the night. Almost instantly, we’re surrounded by a bubble of open space, and we catch more stares than I’ve received literally anywhere. Worse, Anne seems to have disappeared, so I appear to be alone. The general hubbub of the city is overridden nearby me, a susurrus of quiet murmurs slides through the air, and I can see ponies and some ground-bound griffons looking over the crowd to get a glimpse of me.

The problem is, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why I’m getting all this attention. Is it because I’m famous but never actually been here so I look weird... or am I just weird in general? I just give a short wave. “Uh, hi.”

The whispers continue, until one of the members of the crowds asks a tentative question. “D- did something happen you need to take care of?”

“Uh, no. I’m just looking for a place me and my uh, friend can stay for a few months...”

“Friend?”

“Few months?”

“Will you have my foals?!” I nearly jump out my skin as the mare shouting this latches onto my side, having sprung out of the crowd with no warning.

“Jeez lady are you high!?” I yell trying to yank her off of me. Ponies are strangely adept at staying attached to things, unfortunately.

Almost immediately, she gets hauled off of me by a glow of orange-red magic, and I breath a relieved sigh. Then, the unicorn who saved me latches onto my hip in the other’s place, shoving her muzzle into my stomach. “He’s mine, nags!” she shouts into my belly, tickling a little as I try removing her instead.

“What is with all you damn xenophiles!?” I Spark Up and turn intangible and rush through of the crowd trying to get away from all the crazy mares.

Magical lassos and nets form all around me, forcing me to phase through them and all the ponies and griffons in my way, most of who squawk in indignation. I reach an alley, and phase back into tangibility, if only to catch my breath. All those magical fields actually did slow me, and I could feel myself tire with each one. Maybe they had some kind of draining effect on them, or something. I shudder, and turn around to try sneaking out. In the front of the alley is two earth ponies and a unicorn, all mares, and all grinning nastily.

Before I can do anything, I’m suddenly lifted into the air, and I have to blink several times to realize there’s a set of metallic talons gripping my shoulders as I ascend. The ponies below, however, apparently still can’t see who’s raising me into the air, and must think I’m just flying away under my own power. Smirking, I strike a pose, as if standing in mid-air. Idunno how effective it is, but at least we’re not at ground level anymore.

Eventually, we arrive at a chunk of cloud about two stories up, and Anne sets down, putting me down on her lap to make sure I don’t fall through. It’s a bit weird, because her lower legs are really solid, while her thighs are actually rather cushiony... I hope that’s not a weird thought to have.

“And that is why I’m not a fan of hanging around random ponies.”

Anne nods, holding me with her wings. “I can understand, that was awful.”

After some time spent just hanging out on the cloud, a griffon flaps up and sets down on the cloud. “Hey, watcha doin’ here? This ain’t your cloud! Buzz off!”

I quickly apologize. Fighting hawks or lions are not high on my list of things to try and this thing is both. “Sorry, I just... I was trying to get away from those insane ponies. You know where I could go to keep them away from me?”

“Don’t care, wing offa my cloud!” The griffon puffs up, a bit of feathery mane floofing into view, a bit like a peacock’s feathers.

“Uh yeah, no problem. Come on Anne, let’s find a rooftop or something.”

Anne carefully lifts me off, the griffon still glaring at me like I’d kicked his mother. We finally find what looks like a fourth-story entrance hall on one of the wood-stone-steel towers, and land. The pegasus bellhop looks at me, and looks a bit stunned, but doesn’t miss a beat.

“Greetings, sir, and welcome to the Drake Hotel! How may I help you, Mr. Anthony sir?” The stallion sounds a little reedy and a bit young, not to mention enthusiastic.

“I was just looking for a place to stay for a month or two. Just a place to sleep for two, is all we need.”

The bellhop beams at me, and sticks his chest out a little. “Well, you’ve come to the right place! This is one of the finest hotels in Chickago, and the rooms are as little as two-hundred bits a night. I’m sure you can manage that as a hero and all.”

I almost face-palm as I realize the one thing I forgot to pack. Money. Which I don’t have... ‘cuz I haven’t needed it. Crap.

“Uh well, I’m not that rich, I’m looking for someplace with just a place to sleep. No offense but this place is a bit above what I’m looking for. Do you know of anywhere more... minimalist?”

The look of crushing disappointment on the colt’s face is heart rending, but he shifts a little and soldiers on nonetheless. That’s a hell of a lot of discipline, I’ll admit. “Uhm... there’s the Inn at Lincolt Park downtown. Uhm, lemme see if we have a map in here...” He rifles through a small stand, finally coming back with a small, folded pamphlet under his wing, before extending it to me with a flick of the feathers I can’t quite see in full. Either way, I take the folded map, and look it over. The colt points to a spot on it. “Right there, and it’s at least alright. Just, uhm, get your food from somewhere else.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on spending much on food. I can make do without it, but thanks for the tip.”

The bellhop smiles and nods. “I’m glad to be of assistance, sir! I wish you well on your travels.”

As Anne and I try our best to reach our destination while avoiding large open areas and just flying if we can’t, I make a pact. “Next time I go on a trip, I’m bringing Twilight so she can turn me into a pony. This is fucking ridiculous.” It doesn’t help that I keep losing track of Anne whenever something actually happens.

When we finally reach the hotel, we’re able to get in and get to the main desk before I’m spotted and bring about another stampede for my manly bits.

“Didn’t even think living in a place with open sexual acceptance of someone despite background or race would be so annoying!”

The receptionist looks blandly up at me, a griffon female in a cheap-looking suit. “You here for a room?”

“Yeah, two months in a room for two if you can do that.”

The griffoness raises an eyebrow, and regards me with vague disinterest, like a ca- right, half lion. “Two months? Fifty bits a night, half paid in advance.” Owch... and this is a cheap hotel? Oh, wait, it’s a hotel. Hotels always charge a bunch per night.

“So...” I do the math in my head. A month is about thirty days, so that’s sixty days times fifty... “three hundr- no, three thousand bits? Half up front?” I sigh heavily. “I can’t do that I’m afraid. Ah screw it, I’m making this trip two weeks.”

The griffon shrugs. “Whatever you like. Three-fifty up front, three-fifty when you check out. If you check out after noon on the last day, an additional day will be added to your charge.” She slides over a ledger, and Anne sighs, pulling out a large purse from her luggage. I hadn’t even realized she’d strapped it to her back.

From the bag comes several large, silvery-looking metal coins, and the griffon picks one up at random. A quick claw-scratch later, and the griffoness is tucking the proffered coinage into a drawer. I sign my name and Anne’s, and the receptionist offers me a key with ‘Rm. 507’ on it. I’m informed by the building map next to the stairs that each floor is another hundred, with the first floor being... the top? The building’s only fourteen stories tall, so that’s pretty high up... and it’s stairs all the way. Damnit...

After getting the workout of my life, I decide that after this trip, I’m swearing off stairs. I’m gonna teach these idiots how to build a flippin’ elevator!

We get to the room, and I go to collapse onto the bed, when I realize... it’s the bed. Singular. I thought I asked for a room for two-

Oh. Probably should’ve clarified ‘two separate people’.

Still, at least this bed’s large enough for me to actually lay down on, without anything dangling off. I’ve seen the beds being sold at Matresses and Lumber Nails and those things are tiny.

“So... do we sleep in shifts, or do we find some way to decide who gets the bed each night?” I pause. “Or we could try and share it. Fair warning though, I move around in my sleep.”

Anne blushes and looks away. “Uhm, I’ll be fine, there’s a balcony, and I can just sleep on the railing.”

“Alright, I guess that works. So now that we have a place to stay, what are we gonna do for two weeks? I know I should, y’know, mingle with the griffons but I don’t want to spend any more money, so gatherings that need payment are out...”

“Well, I’ve noticed that most of the griffons I’ve seen so far are all on the upper stories and such. I think... I think we need to get your shoes enchanted so you can walk on clouds, and then we can go cloudwalking.”

I’m not a fan of the mental image I have drawn for myself. I imagine myself falling over and staring down at the ground miles below, dangling from my shoes still on top of the cloud. I shrug and give fate the finger. “What’s the worst that could happen? Aside from accidental pancaking.”

“I’d never let you fall.” Anne says, suddenly hugging me.

“Sure, and you’d never slap me with an arm covered in bladed feathers...” She meeps, and starts to draw away.

“I’m just saying accidents happen, so don’t be surprised if this ends up with you having to peel me off the ground with a squeegee.” Anne looks up at me, an utterly unamused look on her face. Eesh, tough crowd... “So where would we go to get my shoes enchanted? Hopefully it’s cheap.”

“I... don’t actually know. But I’m sure we can ask around! And until then, we can go see places that are simply elevated, not on clouds.”

“Yep, then once I can walk on clouds I only have to avoid pegasi. Seriously, the whole deal with being like a huge sex magnet is... a lot more disturbing than you’d think. That and these ponies have no shame at all.”

Anne nods. “Uhm, I’m rather tired from flying around so much. And it’s looking like it’s getting dark outside, though the clouds everywhere make it hard to tell... anyways, would it be alright if we went to sleep? Or, at least, I can?” As she finishes her statement, a gentle rain begins outside, the droplets rapidly increasing in size and ferocity over a rather short period of time.

“Sure. Meeting some griffons can wait for tomorrow. Are you sure you’ll be fine on that railing?”

She looks unsurely at the beginning downpour, the vertical flood obscuring the world outside within the minute. “Not as sure as I was when I suggested it.”

“Well, as long as you try not to get all stiff and metal-y in your sleep, you can sleep with me. There might be enough room here if you, Idunno, lay on top of me or something.” Anne blushes vividly at the suggestion, and sort of picks her way over to the bed. It’s probably wide enough for us both, really, but she’s just so cute when she’s flustered. And that blue blush she gets is pretty. And cool.

The bronze harpy slowly works to tuck the main blanket around herself, forming a large, nest-like formation on roughly half the bed, tucking herself in without anything on top. Still, she looks comfy, even if the nest is a little big for her. There’s room enough for me to lay on the bed, too, so that’s a plus.

One strange thing about the bed, I notice, is that it’s definitely made for someone bigger than I am. Maybe griffons are bigger than they look...

I wonder what gaining trust from the griffons will take? Fluke said a lot has to be beaten into them, so maybe I just have to prove myself capable in a fight with one. Or I have to be nice even when they’re pissy and they’ll accept that... Probably should have read up on griffon culture before coming here. Oh well, I’ll find out I guess.

Deciding to lounge about, I work on resting my legs. Almost immediately, I’m falling asleep on the bed, too tired to do anything but sleep.

I wake slowly, curled up a bit. The bed is warm, and it takes me a bit of time to realize that’s because I’ve curled up under Anne’s nest of blanket. Anne herself is also curled up, though inside her nest, and still asleep. Outside, it’s still dark from the downpour that’s still going on. Jeez... I wonder if there’s just no regulation on the weather here, or something. Why is normalcy so annoying?

A brief crack of thunder accompanies a lightning flash. I sigh, because it’s comfy where I am, but I need to get up and move. Also, I probably shouldn’t go anywhere without Anne with me. The place is really new and big so getting lost is a big problem. Speaking of Anne, I don’t get the whole ‘nest’ thing. I mean sure she’s kind of a bird now but that just doesn’t look comfortable. She’s basically flopped over the side of it, but her body from the waist down is off to the side. She’s basically got a ninety-degree bend and a ninety-degree twist in her, and she’s sleeping like it’s the only natural position.. And people say normal girls are a mystery...

Still, thinking back on yesterday, I have to admit that she was pretty impressive. She was hauling me around for most of the afternoon and evening, and she wasn’t even particularly winded until we had to go up the stairs.

Oh well, I guess when it comes to women, I’m a weirdness magnet. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with her or Myrna, but... I guess once I started being able to light on fire and become taller than most buildings, ‘normal’ is pretty relative. I give Anne a light shake, hoping that’s all I need to wake her.

She snorts a little, and shifts so I’m getting a picture-perfect cleavage shot, but doesn’t wake up. Her chin is actually resting in her cleavage in place of a pillow. Another brief flash of lightning paints her in stark relief for an instant, the thunderclap close on the lightning’s heels.

I’d leave a note or something, but I don’t have anything to write with or on... though I doubt finding me would be that difficult. Besides, we kinda have to come back here every night anyway so we do have a meeting place. Although my purpose of being here is to see what griffons are like, and given the current weather, everyone’s probably inside. So what can I do until the rain stops?

I ponder the possibilities, but don’t come up with anything that would last more than a minute or two. I miss video games... I wonder how long they’ve had arcade cabinets, hopefully they wise up and invent the Game & Watch or something.

Slowly sliding out of bed, I sit up. Stretching and pacing gets me about two hours of boredom, and counting the number of knots in the wood panels buys me another two minutes of preoccupation. Finally, though, I’m starting to boil over. I need to do something. So, I go and look out one of the windows and ‘people’ watch. Looking down, I can see that the streets are still packed, but there’s now a plethora of umbrellas and long coats, along with a few winged types sheltering others.

Looking up, there’s still the ever-present griffon population, but they’re completely shrugging off the rain. From the balcony next to mine, I can see a rain-shrouded shape take off, leaping into the air and flapping away in the torrential downpour.

I suppose I could be outside and stay dry. I can just evaporate the rain away from me, so I’d only be slightly damp... but probably super cold unless I keep the heat up. Why did it have to start raining on the first day, anyways?

I’m broken from my reverie by a yawn behind me. I turn to see Anne stretching as well, and absently rubbing her breasts. They probably hurt from being stretched out into pillows all night long.

“So I’m planning on saying ‘screw it’ and going outside despite the downpouring. Wanna come with?” I ask, returning my attention to the streets below.

“Idunno, it’s really coming down out there. I didn’t pack an umbrella, and I think getting dragged down in this would be worse than when it’s dry.”

“So we stick to the ground. I have a way of repelling any insane mares if they get grabby, and I don’t want to spend the rest of today in this room.”

“Well, if you’re sure...”

“You don’t have to come, I’m just saying I’ve already done everything I can do in this room.”

“No, I’ll come along. Uhm, where should we go?”

“Beats me.” I shrug. “Not here sounds good enough for now.”

Anne shrugs and pulls on a heavier coat, and begins struggling to get on a longer set of shorts. After much hopping around, she has to ask me if I’d help her get her pants on.

“I’m not gonna be your nurse if we end up together. If you have to just deal with skirts and things, then that’s what it’s gonna be.” I say as I help her, having to kneel down a bit, given her relative height.

“Well, I brought skirts, but they’re not that practical in the rain.”

“Fine, fine. Just don’t expect this all the time. People are creative, maybe they have a way for you to put on clothes despite having swords for arms.” Anne looks a little put-out.

Once we’ve gotten clothes on, we head out. Nine grueling flights of stairs later, we’re at the ground floor and we head off. The crowd doesn’t pay us much attention this time, probably because only a few of them have their heads up, instead keeping their gazes downcast under a cavalcade of hats, umbrellas, and newspapers.

The few that notice us are a few griffons that are notably striped. Of them, males and females alike seem maneless, and not a single one of them seems to mind the rain. They’re all bigger than the lion-griffons I’ve seen, though.

I am having less success with my ‘evaporation’ trick than I thought, but it works good enough so I’m not soaked. I think on what I could do in the rain, but none come to mind, so I look for a place where one could just sit down and chat with a random stranger, like a pub or a diner or something.

However, most of the places that the crowd head towards in its surges and flows are usually full businesses. It takes Anne and I at least an hour to wander far enough across the town to run into a less well-kept neighborhood, with several greasy spoons and nearly a dozen bars, and I’m left wondering why there aren’t any nice establishments. I toss the thought aside for the time being and just head for a random diner-like place.

As we step in off the street after one of the tiger-griffons, we see that it’s an ‘airlock’ style setup, with a door, a small room, and another door. The griffon takes the time to shake off in the small room, then opens the next door and heads in. Well, when in Rome...

Don’t be a sucker for local customs and act like yourself. I heat up and roast the water droplets off of me. Anne, who came in with me, simply basks in the radiant heat, drying off by extension.

We step inside, and the diner seems fine.  It’s not quite like I’d expect from Earth, though it’s mostly the same, and the layout is definitely intended for large winged quadrupeds. There’s a thin fog at the top of the one-room sitting/serving area, and the whole place smells of tobacco and something else, but it’s not too strong to override the smell of meat... my mouth waters just from the scent.

After a few seconds, we see that there’s no maitre’d, and sit ourselves down. A waiter, an earth pony mare with giant bags under her eyes and a slightly messy bun of hair, shows up moments later. “Howdy, I’m Short Order. Watcha want?”

I shrug. “I’m not feeling that hungry. Anne?”

“Ah, you have fish, right?”

“We are in Chickago, yes.” The waitress replies.

“Sorry. Uhm, how much can I get for ten bits?”

“A lot. Y’want tuna, salmon, or the day’s whatever?” The waitress doesn’t appear to be fully awake, and isn’t really looking at either of us. She’s more or less staring over my shoulder and operating off pure rote.

“I, uh... Salmon?”

“Sure thing. It’ll be out as fillets in a bit. Just holler if y’need anything.” The mare wanders off again, this time vaguely in the direction of the kitchen.

I look around the place, searching for a griffon that looks bored and in need of a time killer. Trying to chat with someone busy probably wouldn’t go very far.

The tiger-griffon we followed in is already chatting with a pony, and there’s a black-feathered griffon that’s smaller than the others mercilessly attacking what looks like a hamburger. There’s a pony couple nuzzling each other, another of the eagle-griffons, and a bored looking griffon poking at the remains of what was probably a steak. It’s another of the black-colored griffons.

Well, I guess my options are the bored black griffon or the eagle griffon. They’re both close, and don’t appear occupied at this point.

I head over to the eagle guy. “Hey there. You don’t look like you’ve got a lot going on. Wanna chat for a bit?”

The griffon’s attention shifts to me for only a moment before dismissing me. He picks up a newspaper that’s somewhat dry, and flips it open. The headline is something about ‘Subline Closures’ and a worker’s strike.

“Hey buddy, I’m just trying to be friendly here. I’ve gotten tired of hanging around ponies all the time and I wanna know what another species is like.”

The eagle-griffon continues to ignore me, but the black griffon appears to have taken interest, a single thin black ear rising to face me as he pokes at his plate some more.

I decide to leave the ignorant guy and sit down near the black one. “I say something interesting?”

The griffon shrugs. The ear’s still up, though, so I’ve apparently got his attention. He doesn’t push me away, though, so that’s a good sign, I think. I look over and see that Anne looks a little left out, but she’ll be fine.

“Anyway, I seem to have your attention, at least partially, and I was wondering if you’d oblige me.”

The poking at the plate stops, and the griffon slowly, daintily picks up the bone in one claw. The bone is brought to beak, and... I gulp slightly as the griffon crunches down on the bone like it’s a cheeto.

“You uh, lacking a bit of calcium in your diet there, buddy?”

The griffon finishes chewing, and swallow. Then, in a distinctly feminine voice, speaks. “No. It is good for keeping my beak sharp. What are you?”

“Heh, someone who hasn’t heard of me. I like you already, miss...?” The look of utter disinterest from her makes my attempt at friendly wilt a bit. She looks like she’s waiting... or, right, I didn’t actually answer her.

“Well, you could say I’m pretty different. I’m a human. Name’s Anthony. Never actually seen a griffon city until yesterday.”

“Huh.” is all I get. It’s weird, because her tone is one of ‘no fucks to give’, but her ears are definitely pointed at me.

“Am I boring you? I can fix that rather quickly if I am.” I get what I think is either a quirked eyebrow or a trick of the light in response.

“You seem to have wandered from your flockmate, human.”

“If that means ‘girlfriend’ then no, she’s not really. But she’s working towards it. Besides, She can handle herself fine. How do you think I got these?” I say, gesturing towards the bandage from yesterday’s ‘slap’

“Flock is family.” Is the only reply. It’s a bit like speaking to a brick wall, except she’s slowly moving to face me better. If I wasn’t paying close attention, I’d almost definitely miss it, but she’s slowly turning.

“Well then I guess she would count. Though I still think she’ll be fine. Hard to bite through metal. More difficult than bones at least.” the griffon cocks her entire head at this, though only a little.

“She’s human too, for the most part. You’ll find us rather... different. And I’ve spent the last two or so years living with ponies and it’s getting boring. Apparently griffons are much more... what’s the word I’m looking for?” I give the black griffon a chance to offer her own adjective. I make generic hand motions for several seconds, but she just stares at me, her amber-yellow eyes boring into me. She’s virtually motionless while she stares, too.

“Well, the word that ponies use often is ‘violent’ and that’s been used to describe me quite a few times as well. I was told I might fit in here a bit better. So I’m trying to get myself acquainted.”

“Explains much.”

“Not much of a talker, are you? So what’s your deal? The strong and silent type, afraid you’ll say something stupid, or just don’t have anything worthwhile to say?”

“Why waste words, when actions speak clearer?” she says, her expression perfectly steady.

“That excuse would work better if you actually acted. You’re barely moving. Perhaps I’m reading your body language wrong, but from what I can tell, you are interested in me... so what do I have to do to get that beak flapping?”

The griffon barely moves. But a faint shrug is visible. “A lack of action is an action itself.”

“It just happens to be a very uninformative one, which is the opposite goal of what your previous statement implies should be happening. Are we just gonna keep going in circles like a bunch of indecisive seagulls, or actually get somewhere? I want to know more about this place and griffons in general. That’s all.”

“Ah.” she halts again, and I’m about to speak or get up and leave when she speaks again. “The first thing you should know,” she gestures towards the eagle-griffon I was trying to talk to previously, “is that those are all snobs and bullies.”

This brings an almost immediate response from the two eagle-griffons, who both shout back that the one I’m sitting with is a ‘field rat’ and a ‘vulture in black’. The responses sound worn-in, though, and there’s no anger in any of it.

I roll my eyes and reply to these actions sarcastically. “Geez guys, don’t turn this place into a dump with your vicious fighting I always hear about.”

A bunch of the griffons snort and roll their eyes, and the pony couple blushes. Tiger-griffon turns to me for a moment. In a thick accent that I kind of want to place as russian, he speaks up, “Pfeh, they never fight here. Is boring.” This gets a chuckle out of a few of the others, along with a ‘bloody warmonger’ shouted from the pony he was talking to. The griffon doesn’t seem to mind.

“So you guys will have to clarify a few things for me.” I say, as I readjust my sitting position. “I’ve heard that griffons are not very intelligent and must have all their lessons beaten into their heads and that they are all total assholes who do whatever the fuck they want because they want to. I’m not sure how much of that is true, but that’s what I hear, so I came here for clarification.”

The tiger-griffon cocks a jet-black eyebrow. “What, you wipe face in Canterlot shit and come here?”

“Manehattan actually.” This gets a chorus of understanding noises and nods. Seems Manehattan has done that sort of rumormongering before. “Canterlot sucks. All they do is shop and act like stuck-up pricks who need a prick stuck up their... nevermind.”

The pony couple starts moving towards the exit, but the one chatting with the tiger busts out laughing. The other diners also get a chuckle.

“One person enjoying my antics and another group acting offended and leaving. Glad that hasn’t changed.” this gets another round of laughter. “Guess there is a bit of normalcy for the hero of Equestria after all.”

“Heh, you? Sorry t’ burst yer bubble, mate, but you ent a pony.” The guy chatting with the tiger says.

“Nope, they couldn’t get a pony with the balls and skill to face off a rampaging hellbeast. So they have me.”

“Eeyup, the next best thing.” Anne chirps up, happily. The waitress is just putting down her feast of a salmon meal. There’s at least six fillets drenched in seasonings and batter and deliciousness over there.

“Next best? I’m sorry, should I have waited until a pony stood up to play hero and not expect it to get trampled or bitten in half like the rest?”

The tiger-griffon speaks up. “No, should have called in griffons. Would have pecked hellspawn head clean off.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be as fancy as, say, literally blowing his head off with one punch, now would it?” I say, grinning and holding up a fist sparking with electricity.

The female griffon next to me chuckles. “You preen as much as an owlgryff at an athletics meet.”

I shrug. “I just know I’m better in a fight than most people I meet. I haven’t been proved wrong so far.”

The other diner folks chuckle. The griffoness at my side looks over to me. “When your flockmate is finished eating, would you accompany me to a bar? My night is ending.”

“Don’t tell me you’re hitting on me now? I already have to beat the mares off with a stick, I don’t want to start with griffons too.”

“I merely offer it as a sign of friendship.” she says placidly.

“Now that’s more like it. I’ve already got enough suitors if you ask me. A new friend is a lot better in my opinion.”

And sure enough, about forty minutes later, after some more enjoyable conversation, Anne finishes eating. The griffoness, who still hasn’t given me her name, leads the way to a bar, and offers us both drinks, on her. It’s not even noon yet, but...

Free drinks. Can’t complain.

I think... I think I remember karaoke. I think. Either way, I’m waking up with my shirt around my head, a throbbing headache, Anne is completely bare, and the griffoness is asleep on my feet. Also, Anne seems to have substituted her boobs for my chest as her pillow of choice. Her breath reeks of alcohol, fruit, and chocolate.

Well, at least it’s better than waking up next to a ‘wet’ Gladius, so there’s one plus. I prepare for some loud noise to make my throbbing head feel like someone jammed a spear through my brain and wait, bracing for the pain... after a minute of silence, I relax and slowly see about untangling myself from the girls.

Then, another thunderclap echoes through the hotel, waking up the two girls and blowing my head in half. Or, rather, I wish it simply split my head open. Then I’d be dead, and dead can’t feel half this bad. Oh, I have such a cottonmouth...

As the three of us groggily make for the bathroom, I get a glass of water and pass it to Anne. The griffoness makes sounds like a cat spewing a hairball, then retches up a brightly-colored mess into the toilet. After several miserable-sounding minutes, she surfaces again, and quaffs the water I proffer her.

“That didn’t sound pleasant... you gonna be okay?”

“Bluh.” she reaches for the tap, and gets more water.

I can’t really think of anything to say, but one thing seems to slip through the mental fog. “I have conclusive evidence that a second hangover is no easier than your first...”

The pair of grunts I get in response seem to agree with me and we just spend a bit of time trying to just... recover. “Does anyone remember what happened las’ night? I’m... still kin’a foggy.”

Anne shakes her head, then flops backwards onto the bed when she gets dizzy from doing so. “ooog...” is all she can say.

The griffoness rubs her head with a pained expression. “I think... I remember... karaoke.”

“Me too. God, I hope we didn’t suck...Do you know what they do to people who fail at karaoke?”

“Heckle them?” Is Anne’s hopeful reply.

“I have no idea.” I admit. “But it can’t be good, right?”

The griffoness shrugs. “I do not know... I’ve never done karaoke before. It’s something the qilin do. Never saw much point in it.”

“I’m... too faded to ask right now. I’m just gonna assume that the killin are a kind of anteater and roll with that...” I flop back onto the bed next to Anne, realizing she is still naked, just as when I first woke up. “I really hope I didn’t do something I’m going to regret.”

Anne mumbles something. It sounds like, “I hope I didn’t do anything you’d regret.”

“Can it, birdgirl...” I grumble in response.

“You both are too loud. Shut up and get back on the bed, I’m napping.” The griffoness replies, climbing up and laying across my legs. I don’t have the energy to naysay her.

I figure it’d just be best to sleep this off. Man, Anne’s chest really is cushiony... I wonder why whatever changed her decided to give her such huge flipping melons anyway.

A few days later, we’re just hanging out. The rain stopped a day ago, after the griffoness showed us a few card games to while away the hours. Now that it’s not raining, Chickago is full of life. The simple solidarity of having a griffon walking with me means I’m not hassled as often on the street, and the ponies keep a bit of a distance now. Either way, though, I’ve made a new friend, though she still hasn’t told me her name. She’s started crashing at the hotel a bunch, though she’s mentioned she has a place to live. She just likes sleeping on my feet, I’m betting. I don’t mind though; she’s warm and fuzzy. Maybe it’s a cat thing... no, it’s dogs who sleep on your feet... maybe it’s just her.

“So where to? I wanna see some more of this place... Didn’t I need to get my shoes enchanted so I can walk on clouds?”

“I know a place where that can be done.” the griffoness says, and beings to lead the way. Within minutes, we’re in front of a pretty dingy, beat-up shop labeled as a farrier’s place. There’s a large forge with a tiger-griffon out front of it, hammering steadily away to make a series of horseshoes. though, I suppose they’re pony-shoes here.

“So uh... what did they call aluminum? Air metal or something?” I turn to Anne to see if she knew.

“Skymetal. It’s usually used for non-pegasus children of pegasi.” Anne recites, without hesitation. I suppose it must’ve come up while talking with Fluttershy.

“So I just, what? Cover my shoes in tinfoil and I can walk on clouds?”

“Uh, ponies don’t have aluminum foil. It’s too hard for them to get ahold of, normally. Fluttershy mentioned that she once saw an aluminum bit, and that it could buy Ponyville.”

During our conversation, the griffoness continues to the farrier’s, and talks momentarily with the griffon there. He gestures towards the shop, and our griffon friend heads in.

“Shame, foil is useful.”

“I guess... Still, they don’t have much of it.”

We follow our new friend closer to the store and I wonder how a non-unicorn could apply an enchantment. Maybe he’s got an assistant. I walk up to the tiger-guy running the store and mention my need for a cloudwalking enchantment.

“She already went in to speak with my master about getting some sky steel for you.” The griffon looks me up and down, then pads closer. A deep whiff later, and the griffon’s back to working the forge. It’s odd, but there’s no accent in his voice.

Oh well, not my place to pry I suppose, so now I play the waiting game again...

A minute or so later, a rather shorter-than-average earth pony colt steps out of the shop, followed by the griffoness.

“This is what you want me to make shoes for? No, won’t work.” The pony says shaking his head.

“Why not? Can’t you just, like, make a pad of metal and attach it to the soles of my shoes?”

“No. What if you fall forward? No, is bad idea. Now, a set of shoe-plates with a set of gauntlets to go with it, some knee plates for standing back up, a few back plates in case you fall backwards, a helmet to make sure you can’t be simply dropped head first and have your arms torn off...” The pony continues to mutter and mumble as he slowly stalks around me.

“And how much is that going to cost? I’m not rich you know.”

“Hmm... well, if you’re willing to advertise for me, I’ll slash the prices. Since it’s basically going to be armor anyways, I may as well just cover your vitals. You do have vitals in normal places, right, or do you just have a mass of goo inside? I don’t pay much attention to that science fiction crap.”

I point out the general location of my heart and intestines, mentioning them as the parts that need the most protection. “And obviously my brain is in my head. So, yeah, just a typical... er, human-shaped set of armor would be the right way to go. Just make it possible to take off without sounding like I’m bowling in a china shop.”

“I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Geez, yer so shrimpy. I’m going to have to fix up the schematics for some minotaur armor. Come back tomorrow, I’ll have it done after lunch!”

I leave with the cost unanswered, figuring it’d be astronomical... I hope I can still afford it and the hotel room. Well, I hope Anne can afford it and the hotel room.

The rest of the day is spent goofing around with Anne and the griffoness. We even spend some time near the river, and the griffoness dives down to catch something. I’m a little surprised when she triumphantly holds up... a fully-grown octopus. The ensuing brawl is more hilarious than I can describe.

All I can say is: It didn’t go over the way most hentai portray octopi, and nobody was expecting it to arm itself with a cobble and leap off the edge back into the river. Nobody.

The next day, we come back to the farrier’s shop after a short meal, and the pony... has already assembled something like partial platemail for me. It’s all gleaming aluminum... except for the parts with the farrier’s logo splashed all over the chest, the back, both shoulders and hips, and the backs of the hands. There’s even a logo on each of the shoes! And they’re all in awful, garish colors. Oh my poor, screaming retinas...

“Nice design but uh... you wouldn’t happen to be colorblind, are you? Just asking.” I figure there’s a way to remove it, which I will do once I get back to Ponyville.

“What? Tartarus no. I just want ponies to notice my dang-nabbed logo! It’s a branding thing, you wouldn’t understand.” Whoo boy, one of those. “You keep those tags on fer me, and you can have it fer... five-hunnerd. You can strip ‘em off when you’re not in town anymore, I don’t care what the numb-horns in Canterlot think about my business.”

“Uh-huh... and I’m just going to assume this isn’t, like, combat armor, just covering, right?”

“What are you smokin’, and why ain’tcha sharin’? That’s skysteel. It’ll block a lightning bolt, which is basically all wingbrains and most of them hornheads fight with. Least griffons’ll actually fight’cha with somethin’ that always works.”

I snort. “You haven’t seen my lightning, have you?”

“It don’t matter, lightning’s lightning, and skysteel’ll grab it. You get a big enough charge on them, and you’ll fry whatever you touch for days. So be careful ‘bout flyin’ in storms and grabbin’ yer birdie over there.” He gestures off-handedly at both Anne and the griffoness, who are off to the side, bonding.

“Oh I don’t fly... that’s kinda the reason for this. Thanks anyway. So... five hundred?” I look over at Anne. “Think it’s worth it?”

She looks the armor over. “With some paint thinner, yeah.”

The next day, we’ve figured out what we’re going to do. Today, we’re going up to the top of the city layer, and go to the Chickago Clouddome. Apparently, since we’re actually in griffon-controlled lands, they still have gladiatorial arenas. Supposedly they aren’t to the death anymore, but they still get bloody. And there’s some scheduled for today, and they’re open to the public... free seating’s pretty far from the action, but it’s free.

I wonder if sign-ups are public too. I put on the armor and I felt awesome! Sure I look like a huge dork, but I feel like a champion and I have the urge to punch something...

Urges aside, the girls get me settled into one of the public seats, which are four-person benches, each one part of a ten-bench row. There’s something like four hundred free area rows around the Clouddome, with paid seating taking up something like a quarter of the seating.

The crowd is talking amongst itself, leaving the three of us to settle in. The benches are clearly for quadrupeds, being only kinda cramped for Anne, myself, and our griffon friend, who ends up just laying across our laps anyways.

As the colosseum-like cloud building fills up, I find myself glad they have normal, wooden benches, because having only the seat of my pants to hold me up would be seriously uncomfortable after a minute or two. Still, Anne’s at my side, and the griffoness is soft and fuzzy and warm, the last part of which is important because we’re almost half a mile up. It is cold up here, I never realized how warm it is down there. I’m so glad I’m basically immune to the cold.

I decide to just watch the combat that is going to start any minute now... It’s been a while since I saw anything like this, and that was just a movie. This ought to be good.

The first participant enters the arena, the wide, circular cloud floor supporting the pegasus as he or she waves a wing to the crowd.

“Or first combatant, Bombshell!” The crowd goes wild as the voice booms across the Clouddome. There must be some kind of speaker system. The pegasus takes the wing they’d been using to wave with, and swipes it sharply, sending a crackling boom across the field. A large portion of the cloud floor peels away, before slowly shifting back into place.

So this is like one of those sci-fi arena matches done in the style of a more medieval setting, just substituting magic for technology... or is it substituting technology for magic? I can never remember how that’s supposed to go. Either way, this will be fun. I still want to join, but I figure I’ll just be a spectator for now.

“And her challenger today, Gleamwing Griffon, of the Southstreet Gladiator’s Academy!” The crowd isn’t as enthusiastic for the shorter griffon, but there’s still plenty of cheering. I see a few unicorns put together some sort of spell across the arena from me, the glowing lines mixing into a credible replacement for a plasma-screen TV. The display crackles, then shows a pair of ‘health bars’ with a 10/10 below each one. Must be the scoring system.

“And remember, no maiming, no breaking wings, and no disenchanting! Three... Two... One... Fight!” The announcer shouts the last word, and the two gladiators charge each other. Immediately, the pony leaps and swipes a wing, a muffled shunf-boom tearing a chunk of the floor out and revealing the city below. Interestingly, it appears we’re over a gap between buildings... which is probably intentional, now that I think of it.

The griffon draws some sort of staff or spear, and closes in on the pony, who rips out another chunk of floor with the sonic booms. All the while, the announcer is calling out signature moves of Bombshell and talking about the newcomer. I’m a little interested in the ‘Galloping Grenadier’ thing, which looks awesome as a series of holes get blown out of the cloud floor by a rapid-fire series of wing-flips.

I’m interested in how the pegasi do that whole cloud manipulation thing anyway, I mean, I get that they’re tied to the weather, but it’s kinda weird. Can they just decide whether a cloud is solid to them or not?

My answer arrives in the form of the griffon ripping up the floor with a claw and using the cloud to smack Bombshell in the face, stopping the pony’s momentum entirely. The whole crowd gives a sympathetic groan of pain, and I’ll admit that necks probably aren’t meant to bend like that at high speed. Still, Bombshell shakes it off, and I see a point tick off her ‘health bar’ on the display.

So is it based on ‘per hit’ or does it take more points for more damage? Bombshell doesn’t seem that hurt... and how do they determine how much damage someone would take? It’s not like a video game where it’s programmed to just know and display the information, someone has to hit a button or something to change the numbers... Magic is weird.

The griffon gets a sonic boom to the face after that, and is thrown across the arena. The display ticks down one for her too. After that, a blur of action strips away more points, every hit only taking away one, and apparently only if it’s a solid hit. The griffon has two points left, and Bombshell has three when things really heat up, though.

The griffon on the field leaps towards Bomb, and looks to be getting ready to knock the pony on the head with that staff, but it turns out to be a feint right as Bombshell knocks the staff from the griffon’s claws, which immediately seizes the pony by the wings. There’s shouts of ‘dirty play!’ and ‘foul! Utter foul!’ all across the stadium, but the fans who cheered Gleamwing before cheer loudly, drowning out the angry shouts.

The griffon doesn’t do anything major to the wings, though, simply grabbing Bomb in what looks like a tight hug... Then, the griffon falls straight at the ground from somewhere in the range of forty feet straight up. A hush comes over the crowd... could this be a knock-out?

The distance drops off, and I find myself leaning forward in anticipation as well. At the last possible moment, the pony slips free, and a pair of wings opens wide, braking against the air and sending a cataclysmic, ear-rending CRACKA-BOOOM out to shred the floor into floating chunks, the sonic boom splashing across a suddenly-visible net of some kind.

Gleamwing, utterly unprepared for the sudden extra momentum from the boom, slams into a largish chunk of cloud, dissipating it and losing a point, then slamming into the next below it and losing another point. The griffon barely moves, and the announcer yells that it’s another win for Bombshell. The pony blows kisses at the crowd, most of whom are yelling and stamping with approval.

My griffoness friend tells Anne and I that there’s a half-hour break between fights, to let the fighters rest up and get a check-up with the medics. Sounds like a good time to get up and stretch.

I doubt spectators are allowed to go down and see the combatants, but I’m pretty interested in this... maybe I will participate. Joining in is always more exciting than just watching after all... Perhaps after the next one. I get a few odd looks from the griffons and a few ponies. I really am outside of the place with all the hero worship... it could also be the fact that my armor looks awful with the logos all over it. I am so removing them later.

I must have been lost in thought for some time, because a loudspeaker announces that the next fight is about to start. Guess I spaced out for a while there. Oh well, time to see how this one will go. I make my way back to my seat and, with Anne and the griffoness in our previous position, we sit down to watch the next battle unfold.

Once more, the pony from the previous bout, Bombshell, is announced, and the crowd cheers. Then, the next contestant is announced, and it’s another griffon, this one without anything beyond the name. Guess the last one was sponsored.

This griffon is visibly covered in armor, and has a set of wickedly sharp-looking claw covers. The griffoness on my lap gives a hiss, muttering “Those will leave marks for sure.” under her breath.

Sure enough, this battle goes faster than the last, Bombshell’s score dropping to around half before the pony connects with an attack. There’s nearly two dozen thin stripes covering the pony’s body, and then a cra-boom hits the griffon.

 That’s when I see that the griffon was hoping to make it through without being struck; the armor’s reverberations are audible from where I’m sitting, near the top, and the griffon’s stumbling. As Bombshell raises a wing for another strike, the griffon puts its head down and both claws up. The crowd roars, and the word ‘Forfeit’ blazes across the griffon’s portrait on the display. Medics rush to the field, and as the helmet is taken off the griffon’s head, it’s revealed there’s twin streams of blood from the sides of the griffon’s head, and his or her eyes are bloodshot.

Jeez, did Bomb do that? I couldn’t really see what happened, and it gets me psyched up. That’s it. Next round, I’m going in!

The next half hour is unbearable to wait through, but after what feels like a millennia, the loudspeaker calls out again. I don’t hear the word ‘final’ or ‘semifinal’ so I might get more than one fight from this.

I head back to my seat, but when Bombshell is announced once more, I use my speed to rush from the back row to the front using the little stairway. I think I knocked over a few people straggling to their seats, but that doesn’t stop me from shouting my name before the announcer says the next challengers’. I hop down from the stands and into the arena, stumbling a bit. It’s farther down than I thought. No matter, I didn’t fall.

My interruption got everyone’s attention. Guess this doesn’t happen often. The crowd goes silent for several seconds before someone boos. A chorus of boos and angry shouts starts up, drowning out my happiness momentarily.

Eh, they don’t know what they’re gonna see. I respond by calling into the stands around me. “You got a problem? You could try filling in for Bombshell!”

The announcer’s voice suddenly rumbles across the arena, and I realize it’s way louder down here next to the pit than farther up in the stands. “Well, Gryffs and gentlecolts, it seems we have a surprise challenger today. Say hello to the two-time hero of Equestria, Anthony!”

It seems the introduction gives me legitimacy, as around half the crowd stops shouting for the security to haul me away and instead gives me some polite applause. From behind me, I hear a sound like boots crunching snow, and I turn. Bombshell is coming over and looking me up and down. I hadn’t been able to tell from afar what gender the pony was, but it looks like an athletic ‘her’. Not that it makes a difference, really. I can, however, see that her cutie-mark is a cloud being blown to smithereens, which really only makes sense.

I prepare for the first part of any competition. Pre-battle smack-talk. “So, how well do you think you’ll fare against someone who knows they’re better than you?” I ask, standing tall. My armor is a bit clunky, and I’m not used to it, but I still feel confident.

“Y’ really shouldn’t talk t’yerself before a match. Might pysch yerself out. Big Talk gave you an announcement, so yer in, but ya better bet I can toss y’ around.” She jabs me in the chest with a hoof to punctuate her statement, and I see she’s got a gnarled, twisted scar across one eyebrow ridge and below the eye, but it doesn’t look like that eye was damaged. The stripes from the griffon’s claws in the last match are already healed up, so I doubt that’s a weak point, either.

I grin. “You have no idea what you’re up against. Just say when you’re ready to call it quits.”

The pegasus gives me a hard look, then trots back to her starting place. I can vaguely hear the announcer prepare the start of the fight, but I’m getting a bit of an adrenaline rush right now. I’m prepared to spark up the moment the match starts, and do so the moment I hear the word ‘Fight!’ ring across the arena.

I grin and have my first move planned already. I probably shouldn’t grow or go intangible. They might not agree with my armor, but I have plenty more tricks. Also, I’m merely a cloudwalker, not a flier, so I figure it’s against the rules for Bombshell to open a pit under me since it could be lethal. I switch to my Dynamo form and see how conductive this armor really is. I can’t tell until I touch something though, so I use my speed to rush right for Bomb and go for a super-speed punch.

Bombshell grins at me and swipes her wings in an X, the slashing motion making an ear-splitting screech that opens a V-shaped pit in front of her. I stop myself before I fall in, but she definitely feels she has an advantage, and she's already on the move. A swift flick of her wing and another long gash opens up. I could probably leap the pits, but I’d hate to miss. My fingers don’t have the armor on them, so I can’t grab clouds that way.

I figure that I’m not allowed to kill here means the Sword is out, but I have other ways to fight. I circle around the current champ and hit her in the back as hard as I can. However, she just rolls with the hit, even though I can hear the electricity crackle when I hit her. I take the briefest moment to check the display, and see that she did lose a point there. And she lost the first point! Ha!

My adulation is cut short as I’m swept off my feet by a wave of sound hard enough that I feel like I cracked a bone, though there’s not enough accompanying pain to mean I actually did. However, I’m nearly thrown into a pit, and Bombshell takes to the air to negate my contact advantage. Damnit!

“Flying away means you forfeit. If you can’t handle the heat, just admit it!”

“Check the rules, ‘hero’, flying is perfectly legal. Perhaps you should’ve taken some time to prepare? Or maybe you only won by luck, or cheating.” Bombshell calmly taunts back.

“Maybe I did, then you’d be losing to some punk who just got lucky, how’s that gonna look? Come down and fight like a man- er- pony!”

“I am, you dense moron!” she yells back, doing a spin in midair that sends visible air-blades at me. The flurry is easy to dodge, but the blades chop up the clouds nearby me, and I’m forced to leap to the undamaged section of the arena to avoid falling. I’m starting to hate pegasi...

“Earth ponies bring whips or bows, griffons bring bows or spears, and unicorns have magic. And yet, instead of fighting for real, you decided to jump in in the middle of my bouts to show off.” The pegasus gladiator begins the start of the move she did earlier, the ‘Galloping Grenadier’, which can only mean she’s going to be firing off a barrage of sonic booms. She’s basically split the entire arena in half, and the clouds haven’t had the time to fix themselves yet, so I’ve got less than twenty feet of room to dodge in.

Luckily, I’m faster than the speed of sound. I make my running leap for a safe spot and begin my next plan. “You may be a champ, but you’re still a pegasus. You know what that means?”

The series of booms peter out before they reach my new position, and Bombshell’s about to take off again when I grapple her around the middle. “You guys have shit weight to toss around.”

From my belt, I pull the half-pound of coal, and create thin bands to bind her wings. With nowhere to go, and no way to get out, I can have time to simply knock her around and take her points down. ‘No cheating’ doesn’t mean ‘play fair’, right?

I finish by picking her up by the scruff of her neck and just toss her onto her back. “What’s the matter? Didn’t you bring toys too, or are you only good at one trick?”

She kicks my knees out from under me, sending me to the fluffy cloud. I roll over, and use some of the coal to bind her back and front legs together. Not the normal front-front and back-back, no, I bind them side and side. She can’t even figure out how to roll over, and finally gives a huff. She’s got two points left now, and I’ve still got three.

“I was gonna let you have the snot beaten out of you, but for that little trick, I think the champ should forfeit. For the record, I can keep those bindings on all day long.”

The pegasus struggles at her bindings, and growls at me. Seriously, growls. When she starts wriggling at me on her side, I get an uncannily ‘Black Knight of Monty Python’ vibe from her. Still, she’s only got two points left, so I go up behind her and literally kick her in the rear. One point left, and I end the champion’s reign with another swift boot to the butt.

The buzzer rings and I hear many cheers and a few ‘boos’, but overall, I had a good time. Can’t wait for the next fight.

The announcer’s voice booms out. “Alright, everyone, give Anthony the applause for a truly spectacular one-and-only bout! Congratulations on defeating the champion!”

Wait, one-and-only? The fuck? Upon leaving the arena, I’m immediately accosted by several griffon and pony security guards, who politely ask me to leave the premises.

“Well fine! If you guys don’t like to see a real champ fight, then just gimme my prize for beating the champ. What do I get, a belt? Shield? Money? ...Candy?”

“Not getting arrested for creating a public disturbance.” the security guard answers, looking sternly at me. Given that said guard is a tiger-griffon that’s looking me in the eye, I feel less like snarking back. Only a little less, mind you. “You trespassed, you stopped the proceedings, and humiliated ms. Shell. Please leave the premises, now.” The guards actually sound somewhere between annoyed and bored, likely because they’re used to getting to nap right about now, rather than have to deal with people.

“For the record, I think I just proved I could take any one of you... or all of you... but whatever.” I figure my next stop would be the lobby and wait for the girls. Obviously they saw the best part of the show, no need to stay and watch the rest.

About four hours later, they finally come out, having watched the rest of the fights. The part that stings, though, is when Anne pointedly ignores me the entire way back to the hotel.

Once we get to our room I decide to ask. “So, what’s got you mad? It’s not like this affects you or anything.”

“Well, I’m thinking about dropping out of competing with Myrna.” Anne snaps. “That was just so childish. What was the point?!” she rears up in front of me. With a single flap of her wings, she’s eye level with me, and the susurrus of metal-on-metal isn’t so comforting now.

“Having fun? Trying out the local sport?”

“Ruining everyone else’s time! They’re professionals, Anthony! Just like with professional football players, or basketball players, or whatever. You just ran out and beat someone up! for no reason! If you were bored, you could’ve just left, rather fucking things up!” Anne says the last part while jabbing me with a claw knuckle. Then, she slams the door shut, and I realize she just locked me out of my room.

I phase my head through the door. “For the record, I wasn’t bored, I was having a blast, so I decided to get involved.” With that I pull my head back out and leave. I wanna go see that guy who gave me this armor.

When I approach the same little shop, I ask the same tiger-griffon as before about his ‘master’ and I wait for the colt to come out. “So, I just beat the champion gladiator, in front of at least half the city or something, and everyone got to see your armor. How’s that for marketing?”

“Jeez. How long’ve you been signed up for? Y’ only got the armor yesterday.”

“I’m not signed up. But I still won and-”

“Wait, you didn’t sign up, so how’d you get in?” The colt looks at me like I’m stupid.

“By jumping in from out of the stands and getting my name announced.”

“So... you made an utter fool of yourself, beat the crap out of someone who donates all her winnings to charity, and then left, all while wearing my logo? Did you get dropped on yer head as a baby?”

“Dunno, I don’t remember being a baby. And I don’t get the whole ‘beating her up’ thing. Yeah I kinda just rushed in there, but I was announced and she seemed to treat it like any other fight in the stadium. She lost fair and square.”

“She smile at’cha?”

“You’re fighting. Who smiles?”

“Kid, maybe you’re dense, maybe you’re just stupid. It’s a sport. Everybody knows everybody in the gladiators. I hear there’s even a new academy or some shit down on southstreet. That’ll be the fourth academy to have a gladiator team in the city. This is big. Prizes are hundreds of thousands, and you went and spoiled the season. You probably only got announced because you got some hot shit lookin’ out fer you.”

“Didn’t plan it, happened anyway. That’s how things go for me. And for the record, your logo is awful. Try more subtle colors that don’t cause corneal burning.”

“And why dontcha you go fuck yer cousin? I don’t want some buffon shitting up my business’ rep, so strip off the logos. Y’ don’t and I’ll tell the cops y’ stole the suit.”

“So remove the logos.” I take off the armor, and pass the pile of plates to him. “Not my fault you chose the wrong guy to advertise for you. I could have worn them without your brand all over me. Unless you got some fancy enchantment on them that helped me win.”

“Here I thought you said you was a hero. Guess yer just a liar. Go on, fuck off.” The colt grabs the plates and heads back in towards the shop.

I just decide to walk around the city and check out more of the place. I mean, I know what I did was wrong, but people came to see a fight, who cares who was doing the actual fighting?

I entertain and then get spat on. Pricks.

It’s been five days since the whole gladiator thing, and Anne hasn’t talked to me. Also, I keep getting dirty looks in the crowds, and more than a few of the various ponies and griffons have ‘accidentally’ bumped into me, a couple times hard enough to knock me down. I’ve started just staying intangible all the time.

I wonder if they even have a rule that states ‘no spectator can join in’ or something. If the passerby start getting vicious then I’ll just deal with them. I mean really, is it such a big deal that I beat their star player one-on-one perfectly fair? These jerks are all a bunch of sore losers.

However, I’m running out of things to do. The griffoness isn’t talking to me either, and I’ve been locked out several times. Wouldn’t stop me from coming in, but I’m not a jerk. I’m not just going to walk in on some girls asking to have some alone time. I suppose it helps I don’t have to sleep as much as others.

One particularly brave griffon actually calls me... something. I don’t really hear it, but I suppose it’s big around here as it gets quite a few looks. I just give him the finger and carry on. Seriously, these sports fanatics are worse than those stupid jocks who go nuts over football. One game goes bad and they all want to riot.

Then something is thrown at me, hitting the back of my neck with a splop. Not sure what, but it’s spongy and wet. I turn around and see a pony across the way holding what looks like a small, sopping wet cloud. He tosses it but I incinerate it before it gets close enough to touch me and I walk over to the pony, standing much taller than him. “Don’t do that.”

The colt’s knees waver, but his resolve doesn’t. “Then don’t be a bully!” He scowls at me, though I can see the fear in his eyes.

“Big talk, little man. Just because you don’t like a surprise appearance here and there you call me a bully? I think you’re just spoiled ‘cause you expect everything to go the way you plan it.”

“No, you broke the rules! Then, you beat up miss Shell!” the colt actually looks like he’s getting more confidence. when I hear the mutters of agreement from behind me, I realize it’s because there’s a crowd that’s on his side now.

“So I beat up someone who was there to beat up others and get beaten up herself? For your amusement? What’s the difference that I did exactly the same thing you all came to see in the first place?”

“We didn’t come to see her get hurt like that!” one person from the crowd shouts. Hurt? What the heck is he smoking? I tied her up and kicked her twice! She got worse from the fight before me!

“We came to see her fight for us!” another yells.

The colt in front of me stands a little taller. “She sends all her money to folks like me, so I can eat!”

“After a defeat like that, she won’t be allowed to play for the rest of the season! Her career is over!” a griffon to my right yells.

I get tired and yell back. “She lost to someone who broke the rules, according to you. Wouldn’t that mean that she can still play because it doesn’t count as an official loss? As far as I know, she’s still the champ, I just whooped her butt, so shut your beak.”

“You don’t know a damned thing, you stupid tourist!” one of the crowd shouts at me, which is met with rousing agreement. I can feel my temper rise.

“Oh, okay, so what of it? What are you going to do? Why can’t I just say she’s still the champ, huh? Why can’t you just ignore it ever happened? You all act like-”

“She lost! It doesn’t matter who to, even unsanctioned matches count! Did you even read any of the rules?”

“No, because most fights only have the rules of no groin shots and no breaking bones. Those are rules here too, right?”

“Only ‘not breaking bones’, dumbfuck! It’s not a fight, it’s a gladiatorial duel. Learn something!”

“Get outta our town!” another pony yells, getting several shouts of agreement. I take an actual look back and see there’s literally no space to leave through, the streets are packed for several blocks. The ones in the back are probably just trying to figure out what’s going on, though.

I shake my head. “I only committed one crime, and it has been pardoned. I have done nothing illegal since and therefore you have no way of getting me to leave.” I light my fists on fire. “Unless someone makes me.”

That’s about the point the brick hits me, right in the stomach. I don’t know who threw it, but it’s not the last. In fact, if I hadn’t doubled over from the first one, the second probably would’ve concussed me. I go intangible immediately. These people are fucking insane!

“You think you’re in Equestria still? This isn’t sunshine land anymore!” one member of the crowd yells, and I feel a strange sensation as a beam of ice and cold passes through me. In spite of my intangibility, I can definitely feel the cold, and it actually hurts. I need to get out of here, there’s no telling what kind of idiots there are in the crowd who might get lucky.

“For the record, I’m shocked at the amount of shit I do get away with in Equestria. But just so you know, if you keep pursuing me with those rocks and stupid spells, you will be the offenders, not me.”

With that I mix a little electricity into my flaming fists and let off a flare of light. The crowd distracted, I phase through them all and get away from the mass of rioters. I take stock of my previous statement as I pass several officers, in uniform who are actively part of the riot. Nevermind on them getting in trouble, the cops are crooked too, shit...

“So what stupid blabbiddy blah moral did you learn on your trip Anthony?” I mimic Twilight’s stupid voice and respond normally. “Oh just that trying to have fun results in shit getting thrown at you!”

God these people are all jerks. I thought I found a place where I can be, you know, human and that gets me a riot. Who cares that their champion lost? I didn’t declare myself the new one and I didn’t take her title! By all accounts, that loss has no weight whatsoever! I just wanted to have a bit of fun and they act like I shot her in the leg!

Besides, I know I heard cheers in the crowd so I know I was entertaining at least, which is the goal, right? Apparently the goal of this game is ‘let the champ win’ which means all the games are planned in advanced and fixed. That’s not a fight, that’s not even gladiatorial combat! It’s a fucking stage show with really impressive props and acting!

Heck, even under that case, I didn’t do anything that bad. I didn’t even scratch her! All I did was barely hit her twice, and tie her up! A griffon brought macerating weaponry and he’s applauded? Hypocrites...

With little else to do, I decide to go find Bombshell. Maybe the reason everyone’s so worked up about this is because she’s spreading nasty rumors or got hurt later and they’re blaming it on me. Or something. Either way, I’ve been locked out again, so I might as well find something to do.

Maybe I should go see Bombshell. Everyone is pissed for her, but how mad is she? I mean, come on, yeah I beat her, but I’ve lost plenty of times and it hasn’t stopped me. Losing is only a setback unless you die or are fatally wounded, as a fighter, she should understand that, right?

I finally track down where she should be by, in an odd turn of events I’d rather not describe the genesis of, hiding in dark alleys and whispering at people. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and it worked. So it’s perfectly fine.

Anyways, I learn that she’s going to be hanging out around her apartment, in the uptown area. There’s virtually nobody, pony or griffon, that seems to recognize me as I walk along. I get to the apartment just in time to beat another downpour, and ask at the lobby about seeing her. I’m almost laughed out right away, but I manage to convince the unicorn in the lobby office with a fireball in my hand.

Over an intercom made out of a chunk of crystal in a holder on the wall, with what looks like a normal piece of string tied to it, I hear Bombshell talk to the lobby person, and she finally says I can come up. I smile, extinguish the fireball, and start towards her room. It’s only on the second floor, so it should be right above me.

Around the sixth flight of stairs, I remember the whole ‘griffons label their floor numbers upside-down’ thing.

By the time I reach the ‘second’ floor of a twenty-story building, I’m swearing to any deity that might be listening that I’ll build the first dozen elevators myself if I can just get free rides up and down the stairs from here out.

I get to the right door and knock. Sure enough, the same mare from the arena answers, sighing heavily. “So what do y’ want? To brag some more? Kick me in the plot again?” she says, more sad-sounding than angry.

I fold my arms across my chest. “I came to apologize and maybe fix this problem, but if you really like the way things are right now, I’ll just leave...”

“Fix it? Fix it how? I’m dead now, and I don’t get to play until next season! I don’t know what I did to screw you over, but sure got me back for that!”

“To use a human phrase, ‘there’s more than one way to skin a cat’. We just need a plan that involves you coming out on top. But it has to be secret to us, because if anyone knows then this whole thing will be a waste of time and you’ll still be on the bottom. Besides, what do you have to lose? Your reputation?”

Throughout all of this she looks at me like she can’t understand what I’m saying.

“Are y’ stupid? I’m not ‘on the bottom’, I’m dead. As in, not allowed to enter any matches until the next season? Do yah know a single fuckin’ thing about the gladiators or the Clouddome matches?”

“No, but the plan doesn’t involve it. It involves revealing that I beat you by cheating, you and I have an unofficial fight, I take a dive without making it look fake, and you prove that had it been a fair fight, you could have beaten me hands down.”

“I don’t think you heard me, even once. It doesn’t matter whether you cheated or not. I lost, at any point after entering the Trial of the Champion. I could’ve lost a game of poker and I’d be out. You seriously just fucked me over without knowing a single damned thing about what you were messing up, didn’t you?”

“New lesson learned. Try to help fix a problem you made, get a door slammed in your face. You don’t even want to try a solution, then that’s your problem. I fucked up and now I want to make it better, but you’re just shitting on me because you-”

I’m slammed into the solid marble behind me by a sonic boom. “You aren’t fucking listening! This is the national fuckin’ sport! If I get in an actual fight anywhere, I can get exiled right now!” I look up, my vision blurred from the sudden pressure change. There’s a strong ringing in my ears to accompany everything, and her voice sounds tinny.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t accepting help when it literally comes knocking on your door. If you-” I’m cut off by a stinging slap.

“How the fuck is trying to get me to commit a crime helping?! Do you not have the brains to understand what I’m saying? Are you really so stupid you think this was just a ‘fight’? It’s a fucking artform, and you got me thrown out after ten years of consecutive wins!” She’s panting and looks utterly pissed as she stands over me where I’ve slumped. The slap is actually starting to hurt a lot, and I realize she’s re-opened the cuts Anne gave me.

“Everyone... everyone bitches constantly about the rules, but nobody ever told me what the rules are.” I slump a little more, and Bombshell pulls her hoof back a little. My vision slowly clears. “That doesn’t excuse what I’ve done, but how does it help the problem from happening again? You’re right, I don’t know shit. I’m a dumbfuck. And nobody wants to fix that so I can make things better.”

“Dude, the rules are on display practically everywhere. Didja ever go t’ the library? It’s a big fucken’ library, hard to miss. Seriously, if you were there the entire time, you probably passed the rules book in the main lobby at the Clouddome at least three times, assuming you didn’t sit in your seat the whole time.” She shakes her head, and my vision clears enough to see that she’s got tears in her eyes. “Seriously, it’s a big thing here. All my winnings go to charities to help out the poor side of town, and now one of those prize-chasers from the west bank is probably going to take the prize instead. And a few hundred folks are going to go without dinners for a whole season.” Bombshell slides slowly to the floor herself, and I hear her sniffle.

“I didn’t really think all that was riding on this. I just wanted to have some fun. I didn’t mean for all of this. Maybe we can fix this? Where I come from, when it’s revealed that a team lost because someone on the other side cheated, the ‘losing’ team’s reputation is restored. I know I didn’t really cheat, but what if you tell everyone that I did? Wouldn’t that change anything? Prove that you can beat me? That you’re still the champ?”

“Pfah, I wish. But some griffon nobles a couple centuries back tried throwing around press weight to fake just that. Now, the rules say that cheating just makes the cheater get banned for life. A loser is still a loser, ‘cuz it used to be the death was actual death, not just getting barred for a season.” Bombshell lays on her belly, on the cold marble. One of her wings twitches a little as she stretches, and I get a better look at them. Over half the feathers on each wing is tattered and heavily damaged, and it looks like some have been shredded or torn out entirely. There’s also a thin band of black marking where my coal bands had been; it looks like it’s stuck in some ways though.

I use my power to remove the last bits of the marking, though a bruise ring is still evident on just about every part of her body, making it more purple than black. from this distance, I can also see the thin scars from the claws are still there. “Is there any way we can fix this? There has to be, there’s usually some sort of loophole or some sort of long-forgotten page in the rulebook... shit like that always happens.”

“Well, if you’re the Crown Prince, the Lost King Azazim, or have defeated either in battle in the last week for their position, you could just overturn it by royal decree. The rule’s still there, even if it isn’t used anymore. Or if I happen to become the Crown Prince’s wife or head concubine, I could get it overruled, but I also wouldn’t be allowed to compete anymore.” She gives me an even look. There’s a thick knot of old scar tissue along her neck that looks like she’d been nearly decapitated once.

I hang my head a bit. “I just want to find a way to solve the problem I caused. I was just out to enjoy myself. If I’d have known all this, I’d probably have thrown the fight at the last second once I’d had my fun, y’know? I don’t want to ruin your life.”

“Not every problem has a solution, kid.” Bombshell says, sighing and leaning over. She slowly rests her head on my shoulder, just as a group of security ponies and griffons reach the top of the stairs for this floor, huffing and panting.

“S- sta- stop... in the... in- the... glah...” The security pony who tried speaking tips over and collapses, and the others groan and lean against the walls as they see I’m not causing any trouble.

I quirk an eyebrow. “I don’t think their wings are broken. Couldn’t they just fly up? This place has roof access right? I mean, 90% of the population can fly after all.”

One of the griffons stares at me for several seconds, then groans again and facepalms. I trade a look with Bombshell, and we both start laughing.

“So stupid security aside, we still need to fix this little debacle of ours, or at least, y’know, try something. I can’t just let you lean over and take this in the face while I didn’t try...”

“Sorry, kid, but there’s really not anything we can do. Too many nobles trying to cut up the rules and sneak through on loopholes over the centuries ruined any chance of that. Oh, funny fact, the ‘can’t come back for a full season after dying in the arena’ thing was around before actually dying was taken out. Well before in fact.”

“So what? Zombie ponies are a thing? You can just have a pony pop out of their grave demanding a rematch and they have to just sit and wait for next season and hope they don’t decompose or something?”

“Nah, but a long while back a vampony entered. Died sixteen times in the same day, but won four matches. After the rules was passed, she left in a huff and the local count died of blood loss that night. Rule stuck, though.”

“Is there also a rule about the undead? ‘Cause a zombie could be dead and then just have to forfeit, or can they not join at all because they already died- This is horribly off-topic, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, that’s cool. There was actually a zombie problem a while back when a Pygmygryff went through a groundbound circuit about three... four hundred years ago, I think? Maybe five. Either way, the little fucker kept riding a giant fossilized sea scorpion into battle, and claimed it was equipment. Ever since, no equipment that’s fully animate on its own is allowed, nor is any equipment weighing more than two-hundred pounds.”

“But my sword would count... kinda. As far as I know all it can do is lethal strikes...” I stop for a moment. “And refuses to go away.”

“Most colts claim similar, but I can assure it’s not a permanent feature if you get some mare or griffoness angry enough.”

“...no, I mean my shortsword.”

“Whoo, never heard someone confident enough to make it sound smaller than average.”

“I’m not talking about my penis! I mean the sword attached to my belt!” I say, reaching to unsheath the blade, only to find it’s chosen now to leave. Fucking traitor... “I swear this has never happened before.”

Bombshell laughs. “Oh, I’ve never heard that before.” she says sarcastically.

“Haha, laugh all you want. I’m actually glad I don’t use it much. If I did, I’d end up with more mares than I can count and friction burns on my wiener.” I pause. “And yes, that’s a thing that can happen!”

“I doubt you’ll ever have to worry about it, mr I-have-a-short-sword.” Bombshell teases back, nudging me in the ribs with a wing joint.

I tap her shoulder with my fist. “Yeah, well fuck you.”

“Nah, I got a coltfriend.”

“Oh shut up, you know what I mean. I’m not getting with a pony anyway. I’m not too big on quadrupeds.”

“Psshh, racist.” She flops back down, laying her head on her hooves. She still looks sad, though.

“Anyway... I wanna try something, but I don’t know what. I mean, yeah this is a big deal... Why can’t I just apologize and have all this blow over? What idiot decided unofficial matches should be treated as official anyway?”

“Originally it was because the gladiators were slaves, and getting beaten outside of a match meant they escaped. So, they got put to the sword...”

“They died. Which means you still have to wait since I technically killed you... I know I mess things up, but usually they have some way of being fixed. Sure I break stuff, but it usually gets mended. Collateral damage is always temporary in my experience, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that. I once got into a fight, ‘bout six years ago, and blew a building wide open. Almost killed the family inside, an’ they were too poor to pay for the hospital bills if they got their son’s broken wing fixed. That’s when I started donatin’ my winnings to the poor an’ stuff.” She shakes her head. “Gave me something to fight for, rather than just fight over. Made me a big hit, too, so I get sponsors on sponsors on sponsors offering t’ eat me out for a little publicity bump.”

“And here I get the offers simply because they think I’d want to... problem is, you can’t hit the annoying horndogs or you get a bad rep.”

“Can’t throw ‘em off buildings...”

“Can’t light them on fire.”

“Can’t explode their eardrums.”

“Can’t kick ‘em in the rear.”

“Can’t get peace and quiet every night without threatening someone...”

“Can’t make the filthy fanmail stop...”

“Ooh, I got’cha there. Why d’they even think I wanna read about that? They can’t even write good smut.”

“I have a pegasus friend back home, wanted to help me with courting a chick. Said she read in some crappy story that the best way to get laid was to steal from the girl and accuse her of being a thief. I think she’s got a screw loose. Or maybe only one tightened.”

“Aww, jeez, she’s been readin’ that Yearling mare’s fan-crap, hasn’t she? That poor mare gets all sorta weird stuff written ‘bout her characters. Fucken’ weirdo fans.”

“Yeah, shameful what people will do to bastardize a friggin’ kids’ series...”

Bombshell shakes her head mournfully. “Yeah... still, y’ shouldn’t let that get to ya. It’s bad fer yer health.”

“Definitely!” Bombshell and I turn to see that the security guards are sitting at the top of the stairs and listening in. The guard who spoke covers her mouth with her hooves and looks embarrassed.

“Are you guys still here?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at them like before. “Don’t you have better things to do? Like, idunno, chase after a giant doughnut or something?”

The tiger griffon licks his beak. “I wish. We’re security guards, not cops. Hey, you wanna play a round of poker?  S’long as miss Shell here don’t mind you up here, you’re cool.”

“Yeah, whatever. So... the problem can’t be fixed. We have no idea what sort of crazy shit we’d have to pull to find a tiny loophole smaller than the eye of a needle... what now?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s rainin’ again, miss Shell, y’might wanna stay in tonight.” One of the guards says.

“What?” that statement has me confused. “Can’t pegasi, like, move clouds and stuff? Why not just punch a hole in the sky or something? I doubt the middle of the road needs a soaking.”

“Cause there’s people livin’ on the clouds ‘round here. You wouldn’t like it if someone came around and punched holes in your floor just ‘cuz it’s raining, would ya?” One of the security guards says, pulling out a deck of cards.

“Yeah, half the city’s on the clouds.” Another offers.

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know a dang thing about this place. Kinda what started all this bullshit. You know, I bet there’s some pony downstairs waiting for me to leave the building so he can throw another brick at me.”

Bombshell gives me a look. “And why are ponies throwin’ bricks at’cha?”

“‘Cuz I whooped you. That’s... pretty much what the whole thing is about with them. I’m walking down the street, I get called names, I ignore ‘em, and some joker throws a cloud at me. I tell him to leave me alone. Next thing I know, half a city block is surrounding me and throwing shit.”

“Wait, where were you?” Bombshell asks.

“Downtown. I needed a cheap hotel y’know. I mean, do I look like I’m rich?”

“So... you went downtown, where more than half the people living there are basically relying on the funds I send them to live, and you’re surprised things started flyin’? You obviously ain’t rich on brains, that’s for sure.”

“Hey, I’m plenty smart, just not educated in the social issues and such around here. Though aside from that, this place is certainly better than Equestria. All the constant happy smiling faces and bright sunny days can make you feel like the only sane guy who knows that the world’s a craphole with monsters and demons and just plain ol’ psychos walking among all the normals.”

Bombshell laughs, a hearty laugh full of diaphragm. “I don’t think you give them enough credit. Y’know why we ponies are so strong?”

“Because you need to be in order to survive all the shit in the world that’s after you, right?”

“Heh, only partly. Y’see, long time ago, bajillion years or sommat, ponies didn’t have much magic more’n anything else living around, but dragons and griffons already did. Or, at least, enough to fly an’ stuff. So we changed. Some grew wings to fly away, others got super-strong and healed too quickly to be worth fighting, and the stickheads found a way to kill stuff without headbutting it. Then there’s rumors of other ponies out there, far from Equestria, which is super nice to live in. Places like th’ southern jungle sprawl. Or the far eastern deserts. Or the frozen north. All sortsa shit places, and ponies got better and better at livin’ there, till we got better at livin’ there than the stuff that was there first.”

I ponder this for a moment. “That sounds exactly like humans... except we didn’t develop anything of ourselves. We invented tools. We created weapons of mass destruction to scare others away from attacking us, explosives that could level an entire city to the ground and make it impossible to reinhabit for decades. We didn’t evolve... we invented. That’s kinda the deal with magic and why we don’t really trust it. We can’t understand it because we can’t touch it or build it. We prefer having something that can give visible results like shooting an iron ball at someone with enough force to blow them to tiny meaty bits.”

“Huh. Sounds like a blunderbuss. Buncha griffon nobles got ‘em. Still, idunno why you’d go an’ make weapons t’ blow up cities. Can’t do much raidin’ on rubble.”

“We don’t raid... well, not anymore. Now it’s just about threatening others with bigger and more destructive forces to the point that nobody would dare fight us, at the risk of having themselves and everything they know completely destroyed. We’re warmongers... but not exactly noble ones.”

Bombshell shrugs. “Weird. How d’you pay yer troops then, if not in captured colts and loot?”

“With money, duh. Everything is about money. It’s what most of our wars are about. Money money money.”

“Pfft. Can’t eat money. Can’t grow food on it, neither.”

“No, but it buys those things, so what’s the difference? At least, that seems to be the philosophy. The rich get richer and the poor just... get poorer. Life’s a shithole where I come from... though by now it’s probably a hellhole.”

“Ouch. Someone use one a them weapons of math destruction?”

“Dunno, wasn’t there for it. Wound up here. The other two came later, the girls Myrna and Anne. Myrna said that demons, who were previously nothing more than fiction to us, started destroying the planet. Anne says that they’d already destroyed pretty much everything.” I pause. “I got no home to return to from what I can tell, and everyone I knew is dead. And here I am, fucking up some random person’s life because I was a stupid, ignorant hothead... The whole ‘hero’ thing wasn’t even my idea. The ponies just started calling me that and I guess I just went along with it.”

“Stupid thing to do. Can’t say much though, did the same thing to get into the gladiators. Everyone told me I was a fighter, so I signed up, beat the snot outta some other rookies. then, I bled and bludgeoned my way t’ the top. One wingbeat atta time.”

“Guess glory isn’t exactly something you earn, just something given to you... Ah moping all night about this isn’t gonna change anything... wait, I have another idea. Wanna hear it?”

“It’s probably stupid, isn’t it?” My face must’ve given some tell one way or another. “Alright, let’s hear it. What’cher idea?”

“Well, obviously I have enough popularity elsewhere to just jump into the arena and have my name announced. How about I see about getting myself signed up late, and win the rest of the fights? I win the prize money and give it to you and you do whatever needs to be done with it?”

“Nah, y’ cheated to get in, remember? That’s a life-ban, dude. Th’ whole nobles and cheating and stuff rant, like, two minutes ago? Or, ten? Twenty? Heck, how long have we been chatting?”

“Idunno, but it feels like this conversation’s taken two days. And it’s gotten nowhere. I don’t want to just come out of this with nothing changing, or I might as well have not even tried. I know that there’s a ton of these rules but come on... there’s gotta be some bullshit we can pull, right?”

“I don’t think so. Still, thanks fer the apology and all.” She bumps me on the shoulder. “hey, since I got nothin’ planned for tomorrow now, wanna go hang out? I don’t wanna just sit in my pad and work out for the next seven months.”

“I hear ya.” Another plan jumps into my mind but... it’s not being clear. “I... might have something else to try. I guess we can talk about it tomorrow. But uh... I kinda lost that aluminum armor so cloudwalking’s out for me. That okay?”

“Yeah sure. So, you got someplace to stay tonight, preferably nearby? I can hear it pourin’ buckets from here.”

“Hmmm... well as long as they aren’t coming down too fast, I can probably stay dry enough. Though I think Anne’s still pissed at me, doubt she’d let me in the hotel room.”

“You need t’ crash on the couch? Y’ don’t seem like th’ stealin’ type.”

“Nah, it’s kinda become more of a last resort now that I’ve come here. I’ve done a bit of shoplifting back on Earth but... I don’t really seem to need to in this world. Dunno why but the urge has just gone-” I clap my hands and make a fart noise with my mouth.

Bombshell laughs, then yawns. She looks back through the open door of her apartment, and I can see a window through the doorway. At first, I think the blinds are drawn, until I realize it’s just pitch-black and raining like there’s no tomorrow. I can barely make out the tiny pinpoints of light illuminating the windows across the street from here.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna have to stay the night. As long as it isn’t a problem. You’re like the only person in this town and a four-mile-radius around the outside that doesn’t want my head on a pike.”

“Yeah, sure. Just don’t mess things up too much. The maids come through every now and then, and I hate messin’ with ‘em. It’s like kickin’ puppies.”

“Alright, I’m probably just gonna sleep anyway. Not much else to do that won’t possibly end up with someone thinking I’m an assassin here to finish you off.”

Bombshell chuckles, and stands up. We go inside, and as I’m shutting the door, I hear one of the security guards. “I guess we’ll go back down and play cards down in the office...”

I get up and when I do, realize Bombshell is already awake. “Heh, finally awake are ya? Took y’ long enough.”

“Up, yes. Awake... give me a minute to work on that part.” I grumble in response.

“Heh, and you’re this great champion? If it takes this long for you to get moving, you got a long way to go.”

“Hey, if I’m woken up by an explosion, I’ll be on my feet and ready in seconds. Or if I smell bacon. Speaking of, when’s breakfast?”

Bombshell rolls her eyes. “You mean lunch. You really sleep y’ know. Eh, we planned on lunch anyway.”

We leave the building and as soon as I’m recognized, I get more hecklers. The insults and angry shouts continue. Bombshell facehoofs and walks in front of me, says a few choice words, and the crowd becomes less angry and more confused before dispersing, but still watches us as we look for a place to eat.

The further we go, the more the passerby stare at us and just seem bewildered that we are getting along, assuming that she should be throwing the biggest rocks or something. I guess they don’t understand that my actions weren’t meant to mess with her. We actually start forming a small crowd following behind us. They’re obviously speculating about these ‘strange’ events, though I only hear fuzzy snippets of their conversations from how much distance they are giving us.

When we find a place, we choose to eat inside as then it’d be impossible for everyone to follow us. But, inevitably, a bunch of them did get in and are still annoying us with their presence. Bombshell groans. “Can’t you all just leave!? You’ve been trailing us for the last five blocks!”

The mixture of ponies and griffons are surprised and once more start mumbling their various discussions. I stand up from my booth and walk up to the gathering. “You heard the champ. Move your rears or I’ll move ‘em for you!”

This scares the crowd enough that they dissipate, a few griffons still here. It takes me entering my heat form and melting a metal fork in my palm before they start to scootch out the door, leaving the place empty except for Bombshell and I. I sit back down. “Sometimes having a reputation of being a violent jerk is nice. My threats aren’t ignored because supposedly I’m more likely to follow through than most. Anyway, I  think my idea is a bit more fully formed. I’ll explain when we’re done eating.”

“Sounds good to me.” comes her reply, and a few moments later a waiter comes out asking for our orders.

“So, what’s this big idea of yours? We gonna sneak around town changing all the rulebooks and hope nobody notices?” Bombshell rolls her eyes.

I fold my arms. “Not at all. My idea comes from a suggestion from my guidance counselor as a solution to a different problem. Anyway, I’m banned right?” At Bombshell’s nod, I continue. “But a skinny minotaur in a costume that nobody’s heard of before would be allowed to sign up, right?”

Bombshell facehoofs. “You aren’t actually thinking of-”

“I put on a disguise, win the rest of the fights, and give the prize money to you. I mean, it shouldn’t be that hard, right?”

The mare across from me sighs. “You’d have to have some sort of reason for why you suddenly came out of nowhere, you’ll need a new name, and you need a good enough disguise. All that on top off having to win thirty more fights before the season is over, and you can’t get too banged up on any of them or the medics are gonna try and fix you up, which would require you taking off the costume. I have to say this is the dumbest plan you’ve had yet.”

“The alternative is me giving up, going home, and all these people going without food or medical supplies. I’d rather at least give it a shot.”

Bombshell sighs and holds her head with her hooves propped up on the table. “You are a complete idiot, have no idea what you’re getting into... but I guess it’s worth a try. But if something goes wrong and you’re found out... Well, plenty of folks will be pissed at you breaking the rules again and some may want you dead for breaking the rules twice in one season, especially this near the start of it.”

“Well then, let’s get working on a costume.”

“Did you hear a single word I said?” Bombshell groans, her head slumping to the tabletop.

“It’s only cheating if you get caught, right?”

“I swear, you are the stupidest person I’ve met, but I guess if someone had to win the rest of the season in my stead... you’d probably get the farthest... as long as you don’t fuck up again. If you ruin this, you are gonna wish you were never born.”

After a minute or two of us being silent, the waitress comes over with the bill. I casually push it across the table towards Bombshell. She gives me the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen. “Of course, you’re totally broke. Fine ... dumbass.”

Apparently my costume was good, as nobody’s suspected a thing so far. Granted I had to avoid making my use of powers look obvious, meaning fire and electricity were completely out. All of my features were covered, and a bit of padding was used to make me look a lot more muscular. It made moving slightly difficult, but I still won, and here it is... the last fight. As soon as I’m announced, I just have to win this final match and I come out on top. I give my winnings to Bombshell, and Anne and I get on a train and never come back... might have been a good idea to tell Anne about this plan...  oh well, no time to think about that. In thirty minutes, the showdown will begin and then this is all over and I finally make things right again.

I hear the match’s announcement and get ready for the last battle. This is where I fix my mistake and make things right. I can’t lose, because whether they know it or not, the poorer half of this city is counting on me. My challenger is announced and soon after, so am I. It’s a big griffon, of the tiger-variety, but this one seems even bigger and more muscular than the others. He looks like he could pick me up and tear me in half if he were so inclined, and he’s got these strange gauntlets that have the insides of the ‘talons’ covered in wickedly serrated edges. If those touch me, he might skin me alive!

I rush at him and we trade blows quickly. He’s not only strong, but fast too. After what feels like an eternity of combat, I end up on top of him. He grabs me with his bladed metal gloves and rakes his open ‘hand’ across me. The blades aren’t long enough to get through my costume, he only tears off a large swath of fabric. Time just seems to freeze and it takes me a moment to realize that he’s torn off most of my costume, revealing my arm and the padding underneath. Angrily the griffon grabs at me again and tears the rest of my outfit to shreds, and the crowd gasps as I feel all eyes on me. In the middle of the arena, unmasked, my identity finally known to every single pony and griffon in the stadium.

“Uh...” The announcer Big Talk seems to be at a loss for words. “Uh...”

Not that he needs to say anything. It’s clear that everyone in the stands recognizes me. All hundred thousand of them or however many this insanely huge stadium can hold. Then the booing and the yelling and the angry shouts. The crowd starts throwing things at me and the griffon starts pummeling me. A particularly heavy knock to my head leaves me feeling rather floaty and time seems to slow down, my vision kinda rippling between normalcy and darkness. I feel a sharp, grating pain in my side, a warm, wet feeling slowly growing from where I’d been cut. My brain seems to take over and I’m barely seeing events unfold through a thick mental fog. I feel a surge of energy, then wind. Like I’m moving really fast, but I can’t decipher the direction... and everything finally goes black.

I hear a loud, repetitive clacking noise and after a while my eyes let me open them. I look around weakly and as I do so, the dizzy feeling returns. I let out an involuntary groan of pain, though where I hurt I can’t seem to tell.

I reopen my eyes and I see Anne looking over me. “Where... where am I?”

“On the train...” came the rather angry reply. Train?

“That griffon cut you up badly. What were you even doing there? What was with the stupid minotaur thing? Did you really want another chance to be an asshole that badly!? I can’t believe-”

I sigh. “So I didn’t win the prize money, did I?”

Anne looks at me and I can feel her rage. “No you didn’t, you selfish, retarded asshole!!”

Damnit... I wanted to make it up to Bombshell...

“Huh?” Anne looks at me funny. Guess I said it out loud.

“I... talked with Bombshell... about her losing. Apparently since I beat her she couldn’t compete, and since I jumped in without being signed up, neither could I. I just... I wanted to win that money for her so I could fix everything I screwed up.”

Anne just gives me an even more confused look.

“Bombshell gives her prize money to charities to help the poor people get food and medicine. When I beat her, I took her out of the challenge. I wanted to win the cash so she could use it and Downtown Chickago wouldn’t risk starvation...”

Anne sighs. “Oh...” The harpy puts her face behind her wings. “Oh Anthony... You do know she gets most of her money from sponsors, right? It’s kinda like NASCAR, back on earth. Didn’t you read the booklets and stuff we showed you?”

I sigh, staring at the roof of the train car. “No, because I’m a stupid idiot who makes mistakes and tries to fix them afterwards. Come on, sure it wouldn’t have been the same, but some money would have been better than nothing. I at least wanted to try. The other option was just going home and giving the entire lower class the finger while I hop on a train and head back to Ponyville where they aren’t my problem anymore, even though I ruined their lives for the rest of the year.”

Anne sighs as well, turning glumly towards the window. “Anthony, no matter what, you need to start thinking and planning first. Okay? That’s just a suggestion from a friend.” she turns towards me again. “Let’s just get back to Ponyville, and have a quiet couple of weeks or so, alright?”

I shrug. “Given Ponyville’s tendency to be a weirdness magnet, I can’t really promise anything... but I’ll try. How’s that for a compromise?”

“Oh, alright. Just don’t stir up any trouble, or get into any arguments if you can help it.” She turns back towards the window. “Let’s just hope nothing comes up.” Next Chapter: Chapter 128 Estimated time remaining: 15 Hours, 19 Minutes