Fight Club

Iced was bored. Ever since he moved down to Manehattan and away from his mentor in the Canterlot Mountains, he's had to do nothing but stroll around the general area. Alone.

Releasing a pent up sigh, Iced turned down a particularly shady alleyway, not caring where he would end up. In a couple of minutes, the atmosphere had changed from the nice and sunny one he had been used to to one charged with excitement and adrenaline. "What the-" Iced managed to say to himself before his breath got caught in his throat. At the end of the alley stood a tall wooden fence with a gate in the middle. It was tall enough to stop the normal earthbound pony from jumping over, but short enough to still be within the shade of the surrounding shops. Two muscular ponies in black suits and sunglasses stood guard in front of the gate, giving Iced a mean stare. "Hey kid, you in or you out?" said guard number 1 with a deep scowl on his face. His companion merely gave Iced a menacing glare.

Normally, Iced would have turned away from such a shady area, but he was so bored that it actually sparked his curiosity. "In, of course," Iced replied cooly, trotting forward towards the gate.

With a grunt, guards 1 and 2 open the gate for him while shooting daggers all the while. "Don't be makin' trouble for us, kid, or we'll make trouble for you," snarled guard number 1.

With that warning barely registering in his mind, Iced briskly passed through to see the strangest thing he'd ever seen.

There were crowds of ponies surrounding a large wrestling ring, cheering wildly as two earth ponies circled off around each other. Iced craned his neck to see over the bustling crowd just in time to watch one of the earth ponies charge forward and lock his opponent in a choke hold.

The subdued pony banged his hoof wildly against the mat of the ring, but his aggressor didn't let up until the pony in his lock was flopping like a fish and nearly passed out. With a gasp, the formerly restrained earth pony rolled away and passed out cold on the mat.

Instantly, the crowd erupted in a series of yays and boos and money passed hooves from those who bet on the losing pony to those who bet on the one still on his hooves. Iced was horrified and enthralled at the same time. What a concept! Betting on who would win a hooffight? My mentor never said anything about this! thought Iced, his mind reeling from the sudden exposure to Manehattan's underworld.

Suddenly, a hoof grabbed him. "What the heck d'ya think you're doing, kid!? You're up in a turn, get over to the lockers!" snarled guard 1 as he suddenly materialized behind him. Without time for a response, Iced found himself forcibly dragged over to the lockerrooms to get prepped for his unwilling entrance to the arena.

Despite its scenic appeal and general peace, Appleloosa was a rather difficult place for older ponies to live. Smith Wesson's parents had known this as they grew older and had moved to Manehatten to live near relatives and for convenience. Wesson himself often visited them. However, this wasn't the only reason he came to Manehatten.

"Wesson, you're up!"

The shout made its way through the general ambience of jeers and cheers and reached the burgundy earth pony, who lay against the wall as if sleeping. He raised his stetson away from his eyes to observe the ring before standing to his hooves.

"Who've Ah got today?" he asked in his southern drawl, placing his headgear and waistcoat on an nearby table.

"Looks like a new one. Try not to kill him."

Smith Wesson could only smirked at the comment as he entered the ring. He was quite a large and muscular stallion. However, he wasn't the youngest of ponies anymore, so his speed wasn't what it used to be. He stood tall, shaking his stretching legs and neck as he awaited his opponent.

Iced found himself unwillingly marched towards the ring by a muscular unicorn who was much larger than he was. "Get a move on, kid. If you stay alive, there's money in it for ya," said the guard, roughly shoving Iced onto the mat.

"Ladies and Gentlecolts, are you ready!?" shouted the announcer pony. "In the left side of the ring, one of our current favorites, Smiiiiith Wesson!" A tall, brown earth pony with mustard yellow hair stood across the ring looking confidently at Iced.

"And in the right side of the ring, another newcomer!" Immediately, the crowd began jeering and booing, causing Iced to cringe a little on the inside. "This is a no-rules match! Fighters, take your places!"

Iced forced himself to stay calm as he sized up the pony across from him. "Cripes, he looks really experienced at this sort of thing..." Iced cursed to himself, mentally preparing himself for the fight to come.

When he laid eyes on his opponent, Smith Wesson tried not to grin. The pale blue unicorn didn't look like the most threatening pony he'd ever faced. However, he did have magic on his side should he choose to use it, as this was a no-rules match. Although not every unicorn's powers were helpful in a fight, but his cutie mark wasn't encouraging...

Regardless, Wesson was confident in himself about the fight. He slowly trotted closer to the pony as if taking a casual stroll.

"Good luck fella," he said calmly, holding out a hoof to shake, "You're gonna need it."

He suddenly lashed out, hitting the pony in the chest. It wasn't his hardest punch, nor was it meant to be. He wanted to size up his enemy's strength and see how tough he was.

Iced didn't see the punch coming, but he sure could feel it. The hoof seemed to sink heavily into his chest, and with a resounding oof he shoved Wesson back while staggering away a couple paces himself.

The initial pain of impact turned to a small throb, the area where the hoof had struck feeling ripe for a bruise. Wordlessly, Iced enchanted himself with a personal spell he called Cantus Bellax - Martial Song. He used when he had been living up in the mountains with his mentor against wild bears, as the spell would readily supply him with slightly increased strength and agility along with quicker reaction speed until his magical energy ran out. As a deep shudder ran through him to indicate that the spell had taken effect, Iced merely grinned at his opponent before returning the favor, throwing a lightning fast straight towards Wesson's chest. Though he could not claim to have the strength of his opponent even while enchanted, he hoped his hardened, wiry body from living in the mountains would have the speed to compensate.

Surprisingly hard. That was what immediately came to Wesson's mind when he received a hit back. As soon as the unicorn had cast a spell, he had been wary of it's effects. He could guess now that it was probably to help his strength. Still, it wasn't the hardest punch he'd ever taken.

"Not bad son. But ya gotta do better than that."

Smith Wesson reared back up, raising a hoof to their spectators to elicit a cheer from them. On the peck of their shouts, the stallion charged his opponent and sent a series of punches flying his way.

Woah was the only thing Iced had time to think before Wesson was upon him, raining down blows with a vengeance. Even with his heightened reflexes, it was no easy task to track the flurry of hooves that threatened to knock the lights out of him.

As the first hoof arrived, aimed at his right shoulder, he raised a hoof of his own to deflect the blow and was startled at how heavy it felt. What is this guy, a monster!? thought Iced furiously as he struggled to deflect the following blows as they rained down in increasing speed and strength.

It's taking all my strength JUST to deflect them! was a panicked thought that ran by Iced's head when a hoof smashed into his stomach and fully lifted him up in the air, knocking the breath out of him when he landed against the ring's wires.

"Ow..." he managed to gasp out, the first words he had said in this entire exchange. Feeling his body convulse with pain, he muttered a basic healing spell after diverting the appropriate magic from his enchantment. He instantly felt better when a small migraine appeared at the back of his head, indicating that his magic would run out soon.

Got to end this now or I'll really toast, thought Iced, though he wasn't confident in his chances of defeating the larger earth pony in a physical contest.

Although he knew it would cost him, Iced layered a second enchantment over his body that specifically targeted his legs to give them swiftness beyond their limits before charging straight at Wesson with his horn lowered.

Pure exhilaration ran through Wesson's body as adrenaline pumped around his veins. He never felt more alive than in the ring, or at least fighting. His crosshair cutie mark indicated his shooting abilities, and combined with his western accent, it was obvious to most that his was the life of a gunslinger. However, something about Fight Club was different to any shootout he'd been in. Here the power was not in your weapon, nor your aim. It was in strength and ability, raw and pure.

Just as Smith Wesson felt he was dominating his opposition, the tables seemed to turn. As the unicorn seemed to cast more spells, Wesson started to feel a little weary. A moment of shock came over him when he realised his opponent was charging at him with his horn as a lance. Wesson barely had time to dodge the attack, ending up half sprawled on the floor.

Iced managed to skid to a stop before ramming himself into the ropes encircling the ring. Panting heavily, the cobalt aura of his magic slowly wore out as his dual enchantments finally ran out his magic supply.

Crap...too late... he groaned inwardly, stumbling forwards onto the ropes as his legs gave out from under him. He struggled to stand up again and inched towards his opponent, placing one hoof in front of the other in an agonizing show of weariness. His breathing became more ragged as the magic drain began to affect his body more heavily, and his vision started to swim before his eyes.

With one final push of gargantuan effort, Iced managed to tap Wesson's shoulder, resting his hoof atop his opponent's sprawled form and seemingly accepting that if Wesson were to stand up that it was all over, but at least he would lose with honor. He now stared down at Wesson, waiting to see the earth pony's move.

Smith Wesson peered around to see his opponent stumbling around the ring. It reminded him of his first time in the ring, when the club had pitched him against their largest, strongest fighter at the time; a huge white pegasus bodybuilder. Needless to say, Wesson had not faired well in the encounter, especially as he had made the mistake of being cocky and demanding no mercy.

As of this moment, his muscles ached and he thought he could taste blood, but victory was almost certainly his. Groaning, Wesson pulled himself to his hooves, shrugging of the pony's hoof as it rested on his shoulder. He raised his own hoof to strike. It hung suspended in the air for a few tense seconds, the crowds cheers growing louder as they waited for the hit.

But it never came. Smith Wesson simply lowered his hoof and went to push the unicorn over, hoping his foe was either too tired to respond or was submitting to defeat.

Heart pounding. Noise blaring. Lights blinding.

Iced couldn't even resist as he felt his opponent shove him sideways. With a muffled thump, he fell to the floor, wincing in pain as his muscles flared in protest.

Even as his body was exhausted, there was some small spark inside of him that refused to die. I'm not going to let this guy kill me like this... please, give me strength, Luna., he silently prayed to the lunar goddess, she who commanded the snows of the heavens and the winds of the seas.

Gripping the last strand of magic that he could, he suddenly howled in pain as the magical backlash afflicted his body even as he released the spell. With so little energy at his disposal, he dared only attempt to cast a simple disorientation spell that would upset the equilibrium of his opponent's ears and cause him to lose his sense of balance, and at this he finally drifted off into the black void as his body shut down for repairs, his heart beating so slowly he could almost be confused for dead.

As the unicorn fell to the ground, the chorus of cheers rose from around the room. The noise sounded muffled to Wesson who just stood there, panting. As he went to wipe sweat from his brow, his opponent's horn lit up one last time. It wasn't over yet...

A horrendous clatter of sounds suddenly filled Wesson's ears, making him shout in both surprise and pain. Shaking his head furiously, he backed away from the source of the disturbance only to stumble. His back legs seemed to almost give out of Smith Wesson fell onto his flank and subsequently his back.

When the noise had stop, everything was deathly quiet. Wesson peered up from the floor to see the crowd of ponies surrounding both himself and the unicorn.

"Ah'm ok, Ah'm ok," he groaned, feeling anything but ok as he was helped to his hooves. "How's the new guy?"

Wordlessly, a stallion gestured to his former opponent, still lying motionless and looking pretty bad.

"Better get him to a hospital."

Iced slowly awoke to find himself in a clean hospital room under crisp white sheets. His chest was completely covered in bandages, and there was a burning ointment smothered over the bruises that were quickly forming on his shoulder. A magic infusion pack was attached to his foreleg, feeding him the magic his body so badly needed to live.

Giving a quick glance around the room, he found a box of chocolates and some flowers given from a pony who had been watching the fight and was kind enough to send his regards.

"I wonder if that spell I cast wore off..." he mused to himself, flinching as his horn twitched painfully in it's recovery.

There came a quiet knocking on the door before it slowly swung open. Smith Wesson trotted inside albeit rather stiffly. He was still recovering from the fight himself, though he wasn't in as bad condition as Iced appeared to be.

As he approached the bed side, Wesson tilted his stetson back to allow the unicorn to see him properly.

"Howdy," he said simply, looking the bedridden pony up and down before commenting, "Seems ya survived then?"

"Yeah... I suppose so," said Iced, grimacing as he struggled to sit up and face his former opponent. Although they had recently been locked in a fight to the death, Iced realized that this pony didn't look so bad after all. "Are your ears still giving you trouble? Hold on..." muttering under his breath, Iced fiddled with his magic power until he felt confident he could release the reversal spell without getting knocked out again.

As soon as he set the magic loose, he felt slightly woozy but remained conscious, which was a start. "So, I guess you're pretty good at fighting. Do you win money from doing that sort of thing?"

"Are your ears still giving you trouble? Hold on..."

Yes, quite a lot, he thought to himself.

"Just a little," he replied.

Then the unicorn cast a spell. Instantly the loudness and echoing effects of all sounds seemed to die away.

"So, I guess you're pretty good at fighting. Do you win money from doing that sort of thing?"

"Thanks. You ain't to bad for a first timer, plus those were some good spells you pulled. And money? Nah, it got nothin' to do with that," Wesson said, before holding out his hoof to shake, "Ya know, we never got properly introduced. Ah'm Smith Wesson."

Iced pulled a wry smile. "Y'know, I'm pretty sure staying alive was a bigger priority on my list than introductions," he chuckled softly. Shaking Wesson's hoof firmly, he leaned over to his bedside table to grab at a meal that had been left there. "I'm Iced Flames, but my friends call me Iced."

An apple in hoof, he turned back to his guest. "So, if not money, then the thrill of if then? I'd be lying if I said it didn't remind me of my days fending off wild creatures up in the mountains of Canterlot."

"Ya pretty much got it."

Wesson slowly took a seat on the end of Iced Flames' bed, tilting his hat back to be seen more clearly. He spoke quietly, but in a firm voice, clear that he was confident in what he was saying.

"Lemme put it like this; how much can ya ever know about yourself if you've never been in a fight? Nothing, that's what. Ya may be some high 'n' mighty Canterlot pony but if some thug tries to steal your bits, ya ain't gonna recognise the pony you become.
Our club is to make ponies like yourself wake up. Life ain't about bits or what you own. It's about being alive and in the moment, making an impact that really matters."