For the record, she did yell at me when I was hung over. It was a longwinded speech about how dangerous it was to go drinking in random bars in the crappier side of town. About how I should learn to tolerate my alcohol better or learn to drink it in moderation. How to spot a whore who gets paid in drinks. And, most importantly it seems, that the next time I pull something like that I should at least have the courtesy to invite her so she can get plastered before the shit goes down.

I am, of course, paraphrasing a really impressive bout of shouting. I’d transcribe it all here, but it contained at least three swear words I didn’t know existed and several inappropriate remarks about my upbringing I’d rather not repeat.

Almost nothing happened the next five days. Mostly because I was too terrified of pissing them off any more to do anything. Yeah. Them. She told everyone everything. The results were not pretty.

The next day was complete and total hell. I was worked until I could barely move. Nothing was held back. I was beaten with sticks, exercised until I vomited, and got floored so many times I knew it like one knows a lover. And the scales. So many scales...

I have no idea how she was a music teacher. Reprise would scare the shit out of any sane child.

The second day was even worse. I don’t want to recount the specifics, and considering how many whacks to the head I took, I’m not sure I could, but it was bad. I went to bed feeling like someone had set my nerve endings on fire.

The third was…different. I didn’t have any training or anything, but Mal showed up after my shift. He looked me over, asked me how I was doing, and checked me for injuries, all the normal doctor stuff. He then gave me this bottle full of rank tasting goop that almost made me hack up a lung after I swallowed it. He then sent me to bed and went on his way. After the previous few days, I went along with it without question.

The fourth day...nothing. No work, no training, no one waking me up, nothing. I slept in late, had a nice meal, and laid around so my bruises would heal up. Whatever that crazy accented doctor gave me, it worked wonders. I didn’t even feel sore at the end of the day. I really should have questioned the random day off, but again, I was willing to just take it without complaint.

It wasn’t until the fifth day until I actually started to think about what was going on.

It was morning. I was eating breakfast across from Scruffy, the janitor who I had not seen do anything besides look at magazines and subtly remind me that I no longer had access to T.V. or the internet. It was oatmeal like usual. The spoon was halfway to my mouth when it hit me.

“The tournament is starting soon, isn’t it?”

The donkey, in all of his infinite, inexplicably stubbled wisdom turned to me and said…

“It’s tonight. You have eight hours.”

“...Fuck.”

“Well? Is he ready?”

Cedar looked nervous. I have no idea why she was. If anyone was going to be nervous, I had precedence considering it was my skull about to be put in front of who knows how many fists. Still, I suppose her reputation was a stake here and my understanding of Stalliongrad politics was that it could best be described as cutthroat. Sometimes literally.

So I sat there saying nothing and trying to keep myself from vomiting while pretty much everyone looked at me. I mean it, everyone. The ones who lived here anyway. Plus Stiff. She apparently loved this damn thing and never missed a brawl. Word from Fault was that she had no trouble ‘convincing’ some socialite or another into letting her in on their ticket. Though this year she was coming on the invitation of Cedar. As were Mica, Robin, Fault, and Ren. Reprise and Bright had no taste for it, Crisp was deemed too young for blood sports, Angus apparently fainted at the sight of violence, and Scruffy just didn’t give a fuck.

Strange people I’d fallen in with.

“No,” Ren said, rather bluntly. As if I wasn’t already feeling unsure of myself. “But at the very least he has a chance now. Before I was expecting him to be used as a mop to clean the floor.”

“To be fair, he wouldn’t get it very clean.” To be fair, Robin wasn’t much help either.

“He’d mostly just cover it in blood.” Mica was just condemning me into a metaphorical coffin.

“Wouldn’t it be more likely that they’d be cleaning him off the floor?” Fault added a few nails…

“If there’s anything left to clean.” Crisp buried it…

“There won’t be.” And Scruffy placed the headstone.

“Can we please talk about something else?” I asked in an incredibly small voice. I may or may not have been a loner throughout…well, most of my life before Equestria, but weren’t friends supposed to help RAISE your confidence before something like this?

“Come on now, you’re scaring him.” Stiff walked up to me with a smile. Somehow her teeth were even whiter and more brilliant than…literally everyone else’s. Seriously, I hadn’t seen a tube of toothpaste since I got here and every random person on the street had perfect teeth. “Don’t worry love, you’ll do fine.”

“Besides, it’s not like you’ll actually die,” Bright called out. “Killing is against the rules. Most you’ll get is a few broken bones, some bruising, maybe a scar or two.”

“Thanks, that really helps.” I was so going to die. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind.

“Yes, that’s all well and good, but we need to move.” Cedar still sounded about twice as nervous as I felt. Not the calmest individual that one. “We should have arrived early and as it stands we’ll be late.” She took a card out of her pack and gave it to Swift. “This will get you into the viewing area. I’ll most likely have a table somewhere. Don’t quite have the clout for a booth.”

“The drinks are free either way so I have no complaints.” Stiff slipped the card into her mane. “Off you go then. We’ll be along shortly.”

“So…wish me luck?” The sheepish grin on my face displayed exactly as much confidence as I had. Which, if going by a percentage value, was about eighteen percent in me not turning into a red smear across the floor.

“Luck is a fickle bitch who has already proven that she hates you.” Ren had decided to be blunt again. Yay. “Rely on your skill. You are far more capable than you were when I found you in that cage. Whether you win or you lose, I am certain the fight won’t be easy for either party.”

…Son of a bitch, I think the old bastard thinks I can do it!

“Wow. Maybe you actually DO have a shot.”

The rest gave slightly more straightforward well wishes. Except for Mica and Robin whose response was merely a unified ‘Don’t get hit.’ After that we left. I didn’t really know Cedar that well. This was the second time I’d seen her in fact. Still, I couldn’t help but feel some strange kinship with this mare whose ass was on the line with mine, but in a different way.

I didn’t say anything to her during the walk and she didn’t say anything to me. Yet somehow we both came to the decision that if neither of us threw up tonight, we could consider it a victory.

Author's Notes:

So this is a short chapter for two reasons.

1. I scrapped the original halfway through. This was going to be a completely different chapter, but it didn't work out.

2. There was some drama at home. No details, but I really just wanted to post something.