#3 - Ivan the Zebra

        “You sure we’re in the right place?” Dave asked Pup as his pulled the brim of her new fishing cap down lower in a feeble attempt at blocking out the rain. “This place doesn’t seem right. You’d have to be crazy to even come here!”

        Indeed, the sprite had made a fair point. The entire town, if it could even be called that, was...well, filthy. There was no other word for it. Dirt, mud, and other unidentifiable gunks were splattered all over the roads, filling the air with a foul scent that made Puppy’s eyes water constantly. Every griffon, and pony alike were either bloodstained, or just stained entirely, not a clean body in sight. Their eyes glinted with the cold glare of steel, sending chills down her spine every time one of them glanced in her direction. Faintly, she could hear beggars on the sides of the hotels clamoring for spare bits, or even something as trivial as a spoon.

        “Cabbages! Please! Just one! All of my others were destroyed!” one of them cried out, clinging at Pup’s tail.

        Confused, she flared her wings in a panic, and took to the skies. The sooner she could get out of this town, the better.

        “What’s this town called, again?”

        “Oblivion, I think,” Puppy replied as she steered herself towards the ports, where the ships and airships alike would be. From what she had researched, her next target should be somewhere around here.

        And by “research” she meant “posing as a Sailor/Fisher to ask what the old grizzled ponies and griffons had seen”. It was crude, but effective.

        “Wow, look at that one on the end,” Dave said, crinkling his nose. “Seriously, have you seen a worse hunk of junk in your entire life?”

        He made a fair point. One of the airships barely looked fit to be in the air. It looked like a five-year old had taken a steel bucket, poked holes in it, and then used a combination of rope and duct tape to attach it to a balloon with more patches in it than Puppy could count. Really, this ship was surviving on little more than a wing and a prayer. And said prayer was being said by a drunken pony in an outhouse, out in the back of the country.

        To put it nicely, it seemed to match the town it was in.

        “...Dave? I’ve got the feeling that’s where our next person is,” Puppy grimly said, pulling her raincoat closer around her.

        “...Greeeaaaaat. Can we go interview the cat again after this? I wanna ride the roller coaster!”

        “No.”

        “Awwww...”

OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

        They were right underneath the ship now.

        “So...how do we tell them we want to talk?” the sprite mused, scratching his imaginary handlebar mustache that would surely drive all the ladies crazy with lust if it were real.

        “...Um...Erm...I think we...” Puppy was at a loss too.

        A griffon, somehow almost as scarred and beaten as the airship above descended from the deck, a few metal bits and pieces of her glinting in the sun. She landed right in front of the duo and gave them a predatory look. “What the hell do you two want?”

        Dave let out a high-pitched scream that would have given Ponyville’s resident fashionista a run for her money, while Puppy simply jumped a little in surprise.

        Quickly recovering her wits, Pup cleared her throat, and said in a professional manner, “Hello, ma’am. My name is Puppy Love, and I’m a journalist for the Ponyville Inquirer. I was wondering if you could tell me where I might find...” she paused to consult her mental notes, “A zebra named Ivan?”

        She smiled grimly, licking her beak. A spot of blood may have been present on her feathers. “So... What do you two have to offer? I’m thinking that I could just kill you, sell that hat, see what I could get out of your hides...” She paused, frowning. “Seriously, you came to this shit hole for an interview?”

        The pegasus nodded, and added, “Trust me, I don’t wanna be here any longer than I have to be. It’s just that Ivan’s one of those topics that people really want to talk about, and I just want them to know the truth behind it all.”

        She blinked once, then again. “So... An interview consists of what?” She asked, looking over the both of them.

        “Just a few questions,” Puppy replied. “We’ll ask him about his accomplishments, his backstory, just the generic interview you’d see in any newspaper.”

        She rolled her eyes. “Damn it, I was hoping you’d be one of those villain types so I could pretend I actually did something vaguely interesting after I killed you.” She sighed and flew up into the air, kicking a ragged ladder off the side of the ship. “Come aboard.”

        “This is a bad idea!” Dave hissed from underneath Puppy’s hat.

        “Shush! We’re not gonna get anything if we just stand here!” she hissed back, before following the griffon into the ship.

OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

The inside of the ship...well, it wasn’t AS bad as the outside. It actually could probably serve for a casual vessel. At the very least, it was a vast improvement from what Puppy had come to expect. Maybe with a bit of professional repairs...

        Pup shook her head, and focused instead on the task at hoof. There, sitting at what could only be the captain’s chair, was a heavily scarred and bandaged Zebra. His mane was extremely unkempt, while his coat was still lightly stained with dried blood. The bandages were now a light brown with the dirt they had accumulated, with splotches of blood covering them. What really attracted Pup’s attention, however, were the zebra’s eyes. They were filled with a strange mixture of insanity and pain. He smirked with a too wide smile, looking over them with a look that could be described as friendliness mixed with murder.

        “Who are you?” He asked.

        Puppy introduced herself once more as a journalist, and asked him, “Would you mind answering a few questions for us, for our next interview?”

        He nodded, then made a motion with his hoof. “Drop the wrench Cata, we aren’t killing these two.” Almost sheepishly, the griffon who had followed them placed the wrench on the ground.

        “Dave, put down the pepper spray.”

        Sheepishly, the sprite lowered a comically large can of the stinging substance, and stashed it in his hammerspace. He pulled out his notepad, and once more (this is going to be a recurring line, isn’t it?) prepared to record the interview.

        “Shall we start then?” Pup asked.

        His smile dropped. “Of course.”

INTERVIEW

“So, what’s your name?”

        “The name is Ivan. Ivan Marks. Some call me the blood zebra. Some call me that one guy. Some call me insane.”

        “Do you have a prefered name?”

        “Ivan.”

        “Okay then. I suspect I know the answer, but are you also an alien from another world? And if you are, how did you get here?”

        He slammed a hoof on the desk and his eyes glowed faintly, the door locking behind them. “Yes. I was sent here by an authority figure under the guise of...” He paused, blinking. “Getting away, I guess.”

        “Really? Who was that ‘authority figure’? Did he give you any special powers, like the others?”

        “He gave me the ability to eat souls, be a host to souls, and get laughed at. Besides that, and apparently zebras can learn how to do that anyway, not really.”

        “...Your god hates you, doesn’t he?”

        “It’s more like he delights in watching me overcome obstacles, regardless of whether or not I need to. Makes me a little suspicious of things that come too easily.” He said, nodding at them. “Like this interview.”

        “I have a feeling that no matter what I say, you’ll still think I’m some kinda government agent, won’t you?”

        “Oh please, if I was that paranoid I would’ve had you killed by now. It really isn’t that hard to hide a body when you live next to the ocean. Catastrophe, an excellent judge of character, could’ve stabbed you in the back before you noticed, not to mention Canary and Boss.”

        “That’s...impressive, I guess. How did you meet your crew, by the way? Catastrophe seems extremely protective of you, from what I’ve gathered.”

        He smiled lightly and nodded his head. “I met Canary and Boss, on the island of Rej. It’s out in the zebra islands, if you were wondering. Nice place when I’m not there, or so I’ve been told. I met Canary when I first arrived, lost in a new body, thrown into slavery. He taught me a little magic and I repaid it by freeing him from slavery. I met Boss when she threw me into slavery.”

        “Well, that seems like a great way to meet a companion. How about Catastrophe?”

        “I met her when she greeted us to the city of Oblivion. I had a bit of a crush on her. Long story short, she absolutely hated me and liked it when I bled. I ended up saving her when the city got attacked by an eldritch horror blob thingy shoggoth whats-it. She decided to tag along to see what other interesting things I could get into.” He tapped a hoof against the floor, a loud echo issuing forth.

        “I take it you’ve gotten into a lot of those situations. I overheard some of the townsfolk talking about how you took out an alpha. How did you pull that off?”

        He looked sheepish. “He was some sort of honor nut. I just tricked him a little and cut off his head when he bowed it to me in defeat.” He looked around. “I don’t think I have the skull with me...”

        “...Erm, skull? Wait, never mind. What about this ship? How did you get it? And do you plan on...erm, replacing it?”

        He blinked. “What’s wrong with my ship?” He asked, standing up from the chair.

        “...Hypothetically speaking, if I said it was a rust bucket held together by nothing but duct tape and hope, how would you respond?”

        “I’d probably sacrifice you to appease the gods of fate or something equally archaic. Any particular urge to test that hypothesis?” He smiled lightly.

        “No, no, I’m good! So, how did you get it then?”

        “I accidentally possessed a dragon and commanded it to eat the crew, then took possession of it.”

        “Well, it beats shelling out bits for it...So, are you and Catastrophe an item? You mentioned you had a crush on her, and she seems very protective of you.”

        He blushed slightly, through the fur. “Yeah... We are kinda... together. I guess? I mean... she still likes it when I bleed, but she’s protective and stuff and...” He looked down, then back up. “Er...  This isn’t going in the paper, right?”

        “I can edit it out if you’d really like.”

        He shrugged, then touched the feather again, unlocking the door. Catastrophe strolled in easily, looking over at the both of them.

        “I never asked.”

        He looked blank. “About what?” Catastrophe smirked, looking rather pleased with herself.

        “Uh...nothing, nothing. How did you guys get so good at intimidation?”

        “Catastrophe is a natural at it, and I picked up a few things about how to be scary. Turns out most of this blood is...” He stopped, looking at Catastrophe. “Never mind, That is so not going in the doc.”

        “We’ll just call it natural instinct, then. Alright, so. What are your plans for the future?”

        The griffon spoke, making Ivan cringe. “I plan on staying with him until he dies, and probably afterwards.”

        “I plan on finding a way to punch fate in the face while screaming various insults, and also finding a place to hide on.”

        “Good plan, I guess. Anything you’d like to say to the readers at home?”

        “I hate you all and I want you to die.” Ivan muttered, looking away. “Uh... I like griffons? Griffons are awesome?”

        “Griffons are definitely cool.”

“That was certainly an interesting experience,” Pup admitted, extending her hoof towards Ivan. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be sure to edit out the parts we discussed, on fear of Catastrophe.”

He nodded. “Please, feel free to visit from time to time.”

Catastrophe glared at him then turned her glare to the duo. “That means run away screaming.”

        “Can I flail my arms while I do so?” Dave asked.

        “If you want.”

OIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

        The citizens of Oblivion were then treated to what would soon become a common sight: two figures screaming for their lives as they flew away from the decrepit ship at the end of the yard, while flailing their limbs wildly in the air. Anyone looking at them would say that they had seen the devil stepping out of the shower.

        “RUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNN!”

Ivan is from 7-4's story, "A Broken Peace"

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