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Closing Time · FiM Short Story ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 2000–8000
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In the line of duty
The windows shattered in a storm of glass shards, a sharp and glittering cloud around the pale red pony flying through frame. It landed in the center of an assembled rag tag band of lowlife, griffins and ponies, ran forward without losing momentum, tore the manila envelope from the mouth of a stunned stallion, jumped again and, using a scarred griffon as step, landed on the top of a pile of crates before throwing itself out through another window on the side of the room.
The members of the group stared open mouthed in the direction where the stranger had disappeared, before a massive rooster, grey streaked feathers and a missing eye, began to shout. “What in Tartarus are you morons waiting for? Get the bag back!”




The pony flew out of the building, angled his body to impact the opposing wall with it’s hooves, flexed its legs, and jumped again, directing it’s fall in the alley a few lengths below, where it landed with a roll before getting up again with a continuous, fluid movement. The mare panted heavily, a few scratches in her pale red sides, some glass shards in her dark blue mane, a bunch of disheveled hairs strains loose in her tight braid, some rips in the heavy tissue covering her cutie mark.

She looked around, then put the envelope she had just recovered in her left saddle-bag. Her ears began to swivel as a scream came from inside the building. She briefly closed her eyes, breathed deeply, looked back for a moment and started galloping to the exit of the damp alley she was in. Dodging discarded boxes and pools of oily mud, she came out between the two buildings in the full glory of Celestia’s sunset over the sea, squinting her eyes in the bright light. The mare skidded a little as she took a sharp bend right and continued at full speed.

Behind her a door opened in the big warehouse she had just left, a mass of bodies tumbling outside as they tried to exit all together. “There she is!” came a cry. She looked around frantically, a series of warehouses on her right, the open sea with a few ships on her left. A screeching sound told her that the griffins had taken the air, she took another sharp bend and entered another alley between anonymous buildings.

As she ran admits dirty puddles on the wet cobblestone, she saw a rusty iron net blocking the end of the street, a dead end. The mare halted abruptly, her eyes desperately darting around, until she saw a heavy door, almost invisible in the long shadows cast by the sun behind her. She galloped, spun on her forelegs and, with a powerful buck, tore the door from the hinges, throwing it along the corridor until it impacted the wall at the end with a loud, clanging noise.

She ran inside, turned left, and found herself in a large room, full of shelves loaded with a variety of boxes and sacks. On the opposite side metal stairs lead up to offices, while long shadows crept over the scene. She galloped to the stairs and started to climb them, as the door at the top opened and an older, grey furred stallion with a guard uniform looked outside.

“What’s all this ruckus? Who are…” He never finished the question, as the pale red pony jumped, took a few steps on the wall, vaulted over the stunned guard, and rolled inside the office, before continuing through another door.

The guard gaped at the scene. “W-What in Celes…” The impact of the griffon threw him in the wall, leaving him unconscious, as the predator gathered his wits, shook his head and stormed inside the offices.

The mare passed two doors before jumping behind a desk and hiding under it. She held her breath for a moment, before starting to slowly and silently let it out.

The griffon entered running before stumbling to a halt shortly before the window. He excitedly looked around, as the pony he was searching for crept silently upon him. The mare tensed her muscles, then sprang, grappled the griffon around his neck and flew with him out of the window. The surprised hunter, suddenly becoming prey, started to panic and wildly flap his wings, shooting high in the sky instead of impacting the surprised mob in the alley.

As they rose higher and higher, the mare’s grip got stronger. She started to apply a lateral pressure, turning the flyer back down again, and directing it to the center of Vanhoover. The cold air whipping her face, her ride struggling, as a scream came from behind them.

“Stop and we may let you live!”. The pony turned her head, as three other griffins and two pegasi came after her. She looked forward again, and started to guide her own transport lower. They were now over a residential area, red brick buildings five stories high flowing beneath them. The pursuers were almost on them, as she kicked out, launching herself high while the half stunned griffon under her crashed in a water tank on the roof of one of the condos.

The mare flew high, slowly flipping in the air, before landing on a still incredulous rooster. She held strong, fixing her eyes on the other two feathered pursuers, the pegasi remaining at distance while the griffins readying for attack. The flyer under her began a series of high speed maneuvers to shake her off, but her grip was too strong. As she saw the hen on her right prepare to charge, she launched herself off, bucking her ride hard in the head and jumping to the attacking one. The griffon tried to dodge the incoming pony, but she managed to grab his right wing, using it to swing under the flyer and kick her in the stomach.

The wing made a snapping noise, while the hen doubled over, tumbling with the pony through the air until they impacted in a heap on a nearby roof, the mare using the body of the griffon to soften her landing.

She stood up again, looking at the remaining flyers. The last griffon circled briefly before charging with a furious screeching. The mare stood still, until at the last moment she moved slightly to the side, grappling the extended claw of the attacker and throwing him, using his own momentum, against the parapet of the roof. The body impacted violently, and the victim laid there motionless.

The pony cautiously walked to the body, poked it with a hoof, and then turned, looking at the googly eyed pegasi that were still hovering at a short distance. The two ponies looked at each other, then one simply said “Buck it, we are not paid enough for this.” before flying away.

The mare sighed before collapsing, breathing heavily. After a few minutes, she looked up at the sun, a worried expression on her face. Grunting she stood up, looked around, and then trotted to the fire escapes on the western side of the building. She rapidly descended the stairs, before disappearing in the alleys, as a small crowd of onlookers started to gather in the streets.




She cautiously slid along the alleys, avoiding the main streets and looking more and more often up at the setting sun. She turned left in a small passage between an old restaurant and a moldy, empty building as she saw an one eyed griffon flanked by two mean looking earth ponies at the end of the street. She turned rapidly back, but the other roads were also blocked, two more earth ponies on one side and a unicorn with a lead pipe in his telekinetic grip on the other.

The griffon cleared his throat. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t really care, even if I suspect that old chicken put you on my tail. Anyway, I respect competence, and you have shown enough of that, so give me that damned envelope, and I’ll let you go.” He gestured to the other ponies surrounding the mare. “As you can see this ends here. Do the smart thing, I get to shot the old bird down, you go away on your own legs, everyone wins.”

The mare looked around once again. The three ways were blocked, the sun was almost below the horizon, the light low. The trash behind the restaurant stank of putrefaction, the air was heavy. Her eyes darted around for a few more seconds, then she let out a sigh. Her shoulders lowering, she closed the eyes, then opened them again and looked at her opponent. Her voice was low and hoarse as she spoke. “I was only doing my job. Swear me on your honor that nothing will happen to me if I give you the package.”

The griffon raised a claw, stopping his ponies. “So you know me and what my word is worth.”

The pony nodded. “You are Ludwig Greyclaw, second of the line of the Greyclaw family.”

He said, with a hint of pride. “Good. I swear that if you give me what I want, my ponies won’t hurt you. Now, let’s cut the chase, give it to me!”

The mare scanned again her surroundings, the unicorn was a few lengths to her right, the two earth ponies on the other side, ready to jump her. She slowly opened her right saddle bag, and pulled out a manila envelope. She then put it down, and with a hoof shoved it to Ludwig. The rooster gestured to the stallion on his left to pick it up.

The pony brought it to his boss, who impatiently took it, and lifted the lid. A flash and a bang followed. The unicorn turned his head to see what had happened, as the mare sprang to the side, grabbed the pipe from his telekinetic grip and, rotating it, hit him on the side of the skull. Without stopping, the pale red pony turned and threw her weapon to the other side of the alley. The pipe rotate in the air before impacting the forehead of one of the earth ponies.

As the thug started to fall, his companion focused again on the mare, finding her a few steps from him, charging. He had just time to blink before he received a terrifying headbutt, leaving him staggering. The mare got to the side of the thug, grabbed his tail and, pulling, started to turn. Rotating on herself, she started to lift the pony like in a slingshot, throwing him against the remaining and still stunned adversaries.

She bolted to the now free road ahead, while a crash and a scream of rage and frustration came from behind her. With curses as her soundtrack, she disappeared in the evening traffic, the last rays of the sun grazing the city while the streetlights began to shine.




The old griffon, wearing a richly decorated vest, a few rows of medals on his chest and flanked by a younger, solid built hen wearing an armor polished to a mirror glaze, came down the ramp of stairs. A pale red mare in a neat black formal suit and with a dark blue mane in a tight bun, sat at a mahogany desk poring over some documents. His stern eyes observed the pony for a few seconds, before addressing her. “Miss Silvertongue, could I have your attention please?”

The mare raised her head, a cordial smile spreading on her face. “Mr. Ambassador, how can I help you?”

“Did you manage to deliver the parcel I gave to you?”

Silvertongue nodded. “Yes your Excellency, it was in the hooves of your bookmaker before the match began.”

The griffon smiled warmly. “An excellent service like always. Thank you very much. I hope there weren’t any problems.”

“Nothing important, some minor hindrance on the way, but that was all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope I didn't trouble you too much.”

The mare waved her hoof. “Nothing to worry about, it’s only my job; I am a concierge after all.”
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