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Description

Chapter-1

“Put ‘em up, Pony-boy!” Jane growled under her breath, fists balled and raised in front of her. Rain drizzled over her and her opponent, footprints and skid marks in the dirt slowly being washed away as the night above grew dark and the floodlights grew brighter.

The earth pony before her wasted no time complying as he reared up and fiercely brought his forehooves down on Jane’s arms,

“Aaugh-!!” she cried as her arms swung down, exposing her for the pony to come down on her again, “Oof-!” she gasped as the hooves hit her chest hard, knocking her onto her backside.

Her opponent stopped for a moment to let Jane catch the breath he’d just knocked out of her, since the rules called for at least something of a fair fight, although he had no plans on being courteous about the arms he’d surely bruised badly, if not had broken.

Although Jane needed more time to recover, she shrugged off the pain and threw herself to her feet and raised her arms again. She cringed as her arms were certainly on fire with pain, but she forced her face to show only fury, not pain.

Her opponent didn’t care; he charged at her but missed as she moved aside. His hooves dug deep into the mud, creating a fresh crescent-shaped rut as he made a 180-turn and faced Jane again. He charged again, and this time he didn’t miss.

With not enough time to react, Jane went off her feet and then down onto her back when the pony’s head collided with her chest. As she lay sprawled out in the mud, the pony put his left hoof on her chest, holding her down. “Pony takes the prize.” He said calmly with a smirk. No way! Jane thought, thrusting both her legs at his underside, kicking him hard in the ribs.

Feeling the sharp pain, the pony jerked off of her and put a hoof to his hurt chest, meanwhile Jane threw herself upward again and wasted no time swing-kicking him in the shoulder. With her arms crying out in silenced agony, she threw her legs up at the pony, one after the other, determined to bring him greater pain than he’d brought her.

But the pony wasn’t up for it. As Jane continued her attack, he swung his own back legs out at her; hard. One hoof got her square in the left shoulder, knocking her back at least four feet, spinning in midair until she landed on the hit shoulder.

Jane didn’t cry out in pain, she refused to give the pony that pleasure, but as she struggled to use her good arm to get up, she heard the telltale roar of the crowd as the fight ref –a stout Asian man in a hooded trench coat, announced the winner; “Round Champion: Black-Belt!” he called as the pony, ‘Black Belt’, reared in victory, “Pony takes the Prize!” he pronounced to the audience.

Jane was now halfway up, “No” she said, “No” she said again, refusing to believe that she’d lost the match. Her eyes lit like fire, she made her way towards Black Belt as he made his way to his corner of the arena. The ref stopped Jane before she could get very far, “Its over lady. You lost. Get oughta’ here.” He said. There was no care in his voice, only a tired irritation like he’d seen dozens of defeated fighters like Jane before.

Jane wouldn’t be told to leave, “You let me finish this! You let me kick his pony-@$$ before I kick yours!” she shouted. A new fighter entered the rink, a motorcycle transformer whose name Jane neither knew nor cared to know. Then again, she didn’t give two cents about anyone’s name, at least not if they weren’t human. She pointed to the transformer and looked at the ref, “That’s the guy I’m fighting next; just gimme’ two swings at that stupid horse and I’m up against the ‘bot!”

“Lady, its ended; its over.” Said the ref, “That there ‘bot is fighting the horse, not you. The horse won; he moves on. You didn’t, so you go home.” And that was that. But Jane only stood and stared daggers at him as he turned and walked towards the two competitors. Finally she gave up and spat at him before turning and leaving the arena.

She pushed her way through the crowd with her good shoulder, ignoring the voices of those around her, whatever they were saying. Locating an alleyway, she made her way through the piling garbage and other discarded things until she found herself on the streets. She wanted to cry, whether it was from the pain or being beaten, her eyes welled up and she wanted to collapse in a heap and sob miserably to herself.

No, she told herself, I won’t give them that satisfaction! She angrily looked around her; a few people walked up and down the slum streets, a hooded unicorn trotted down the street, and an old beater drove in the opposite direction; no one paid anyone any mind. The rain began to come down a little harder.

Give who the satisfaction? Who even cared if she won or lost against a pony?

Jane turned and went up the street to where she would eventually reach her apartment, ignoring the truth the little voice inside her head was telling her;

No one cared at all.

---

She walked alone and unnoticed down the hallway to her apartment, the door number read 7C. The door was also open, but she didn’t care; Who’d want any of the sht in my place, anyway? She kicked the door shut behind her, a sensor automatically turned on the lights for her.

Now back in her home, she took a moment to ease up a little more and look around her; the living room was trashed; trash everywhere, cabinet doors open, a few chairs turned over, a bed sheet lay spread across the floor, even the couch’s cushions were pulled out and scattered across the floor. Just as she’d left it. She waded her way through the trash on the floor to the refrigerator –held shut with duct tape, opened the door –one hinge was broken, and peered inside.

Nothing but fast food wrappers –who knew if anything was inside them, and near-empty beer bottles. Jane grabbed the two that looked the most filled and kicked the fridge door closed (it didn’t stay closed, but she didn’t notice) She turned around to face a large poster taped to wall where she’d been planning to put a TV –if she ever got one; the poster depicted four jaegers standing over a silhouetted city, the words ‘We Will Protect You’ shown at the top of the poster.

Jane’s gaze almost immediately was drawn to the middle jaeger to the right; a slender figure with heavy shoulder armor Jane knew had been packed with more than enough missiles to handle any number of kaiju. Jane continued to look at the poster, and she almost seemed to smile, but quickly her face turned sour again, “D@mn horses.” She muttered and raised one of the bottles to her lips, quickly draining it of it’s contents.

Her attention turned to the now-empty bottle, “Great.” She muttered and tossed it away. She resolved to make a trip to the corner liquor shop for more beer later, right after she dug her wallet out of her jacket. Now where is it? She wondered, and then she remembered, That’s right. Back at the fight. In her frustration she’d left it, and with it, her money, her driver's license, the get-out-of-jail-free cards (literal get-out-of-jail-free cards), her ID and dog-tags, and the last picture she had of her and her brother.

She ran the fingers of her free hand through her once spiked short-cut hair, now caked with mud kept fresh by the rain. Tears welled in her eyes, this time she didn’t stop them from escaping. “D@mn horses!” she said again as her eyes squeezed shut, “D@mn robots!” she yelled and blindly hurled her other beer bottle at the wall, smashing it.

Jane fell to the floor and sobbed helplessly as the pain in her arms and shoulder she’d been ignoring became unbearable now.

---

A blue and yellow Pontiac G5 drove alone, as he always did. Alone down the long-abandoned highway that’d been out of service for years, alone at night. Alone amongst the seldom wrecks of old cars and trucks, the few run-down stations and shacks, all discarded and unused.

“Creepy,” he said to himself, So why do I feel so at home? He coasted to his right to avoid a large pothole, probably made by a stray missile during the early years when the Decepticons still tried conquering Earth.

Keeping his scanners trained on the road ahead, Hot-Shot took a moment to point one of his viewers to the night sky. Despite the wreckage all around him, he felt eased by the sky’s beauty. Primus, he thought happily, I love the night. Night was when he could be alone, it was when he could vanish out of sight of others, where he could be himself; alone and at peace. If his face were formed, he would have smiled.

He returned his attention back to the road, and avoided hitting the carcass of a dead dear. Sad, he thought, you just find them anywhere there’s a road. But then he began to slow down, Wait a minute, I thought deer had horns? He went through his databanks of North American wildlife; male deer, Bucks, did have horns, but the females, Does, were hornless, although he read that bucks also sometimes lost their horns.

He began to pick up speed again, but something still didn’t feel right. He checked his memory banks again, If it wasn’t the missing horns, then what’s eating at me, and then he found the image. It was hazy, it being recent and his focus at the time was off, but now he knew what’d tipped him off; what he’d written off as a doe had a dark blue mane.

Now he’d come to a complete stop. The image was still hazy, but it was more than enough to convince him to turn around. Slowly he pulled up to the body he’d passed and transformed to get a better look; yes, it was definitely Equestrian, a male earth pony, with a brown coat and a dark blue mane. He was sprawled out on the pavement, but not like he’d been hit, more like he’d simply dropped from exhaustion. It pained Hot-Shot to see this, knowing that the body laying there had once been a sentient being, not just a wild animal but a member of a dominant race, like himself and the humans.

He was about to transform and go back on his way, but something else was nagging at him. “Probably my sensors,” he realized. Hot-Shot had a bad habit of ignoring complete sensor readings, which was one reason why he liked being alone and out in the open; more reaction and recovery time. His sensors were detecting a heat signature; and it was close, “Where-?” he looked to the Equestrian and the signal was stronger. “It can’t be…” he said incredulously. His readings were faint; but definite, “He’s- he’s still alive-!” he said. He wondered then what to do; his alt-mode wasn’t a medical unit nor was he skilled in medicine of any sort.

“But I have to do something.” So he did the only thing he could think of; picked up the pony and transformed, careful not to accidentally crush him, and then drove off to the nearest hospital while searching the databanks for the closest ones.

Stay with me, buddy, he thought.

-
[PROLOGUE ] [ NEXT CHAPTER]

Description

Chapter-1

“Put ‘em up, Pony-boy!” Jane growled under her breath, fists balled and raised in front of her. Rain drizzled over her and her opponent, footprints and skid marks in the dirt slowly being washed away as the night above grew dark and the floodlights grew brighter.

The earth pony before her wasted no time complying as he reared up and fiercely brought his forehooves down on Jane’s arms,

“Aaugh-!!” she cried as her arms swung down, exposing her for the pony to come down on her again, “Oof-!” she gasped as the hooves hit her chest hard, knocking her onto her backside.

Her opponent stopped for a moment to let Jane catch the breath he’d just knocked out of her, since the rules called for at least something of a fair fight, although he had no plans on being courteous about the arms he’d surely bruised badly, if not had broken.

Although Jane needed more time to recover, she shrugged off the pain and threw herself to her feet and raised her arms again. She cringed as her arms were certainly on fire with pain, but she forced her face to show only fury, not pain.

Her opponent didn’t care; he charged at her but missed as she moved aside. His hooves dug deep into the mud, creating a fresh crescent-shaped rut as he made a 180-turn and faced Jane again. He charged again, and this time he didn’t miss.

With not enough time to react, Jane went off her feet and then down onto her back when the pony’s head collided with her chest. As she lay sprawled out in the mud, the pony put his left hoof on her chest, holding her down. “Pony takes the prize.” He said calmly with a smirk. No way! Jane thought, thrusting both her legs at his underside, kicking him hard in the ribs.

Feeling the sharp pain, the pony jerked off of her and put a hoof to his hurt chest, meanwhile Jane threw herself upward again and wasted no time swing-kicking him in the shoulder. With her arms crying out in silenced agony, she threw her legs up at the pony, one after the other, determined to bring him greater pain than he’d brought her.

But the pony wasn’t up for it. As Jane continued her attack, he swung his own back legs out at her; hard. One hoof got her square in the left shoulder, knocking her back at least four feet, spinning in midair until she landed on the hit shoulder.

Jane didn’t cry out in pain, she refused to give the pony that pleasure, but as she struggled to use her good arm to get up, she heard the telltale roar of the crowd as the fight ref –a stout Asian man in a hooded trench coat, announced the winner; “Round Champion: Black-Belt!” he called as the pony, ‘Black Belt’, reared in victory, “Pony takes the Prize!” he pronounced to the audience.

Jane was now halfway up, “No” she said, “No” she said again, refusing to believe that she’d lost the match. Her eyes lit like fire, she made her way towards Black Belt as he made his way to his corner of the arena. The ref stopped Jane before she could get very far, “Its over lady. You lost. Get oughta’ here.” He said. There was no care in his voice, only a tired irritation like he’d seen dozens of defeated fighters like Jane before.

Jane wouldn’t be told to leave, “You let me finish this! You let me kick his pony-@$$ before I kick yours!” she shouted. A new fighter entered the rink, a motorcycle transformer whose name Jane neither knew nor cared to know. Then again, she didn’t give two cents about anyone’s name, at least not if they weren’t human. She pointed to the transformer and looked at the ref, “That’s the guy I’m fighting next; just gimme’ two swings at that stupid horse and I’m up against the ‘bot!”

“Lady, its ended; its over.” Said the ref, “That there ‘bot is fighting the horse, not you. The horse won; he moves on. You didn’t, so you go home.” And that was that. But Jane only stood and stared daggers at him as he turned and walked towards the two competitors. Finally she gave up and spat at him before turning and leaving the arena.

She pushed her way through the crowd with her good shoulder, ignoring the voices of those around her, whatever they were saying. Locating an alleyway, she made her way through the piling garbage and other discarded things until she found herself on the streets. She wanted to cry, whether it was from the pain or being beaten, her eyes welled up and she wanted to collapse in a heap and sob miserably to herself.

No, she told herself, I won’t give them that satisfaction! She angrily looked around her; a few people walked up and down the slum streets, a hooded unicorn trotted down the street, and an old beater drove in the opposite direction; no one paid anyone any mind. The rain began to come down a little harder.

Give who the satisfaction? Who even cared if she won or lost against a pony?

Jane turned and went up the street to where she would eventually reach her apartment, ignoring the truth the little voice inside her head was telling her;

No one cared at all.

---

She walked alone and unnoticed down the hallway to her apartment, the door number read 7C. The door was also open, but she didn’t care; Who’d want any of the sht in my place, anyway? She kicked the door shut behind her, a sensor automatically turned on the lights for her.

Now back in her home, she took a moment to ease up a little more and look around her; the living room was trashed; trash everywhere, cabinet doors open, a few chairs turned over, a bed sheet lay spread across the floor, even the couch’s cushions were pulled out and scattered across the floor. Just as she’d left it. She waded her way through the trash on the floor to the refrigerator –held shut with duct tape, opened the door –one hinge was broken, and peered inside.

Nothing but fast food wrappers –who knew if anything was inside them, and near-empty beer bottles. Jane grabbed the two that looked the most filled and kicked the fridge door closed (it didn’t stay closed, but she didn’t notice) She turned around to face a large poster taped to wall where she’d been planning to put a TV –if she ever got one; the poster depicted four jaegers standing over a silhouetted city, the words ‘We Will Protect You’ shown at the top of the poster.

Jane’s gaze almost immediately was drawn to the middle jaeger to the right; a slender figure with heavy shoulder armor Jane knew had been packed with more than enough missiles to handle any number of kaiju. Jane continued to look at the poster, and she almost seemed to smile, but quickly her face turned sour again, “D@mn horses.” She muttered and raised one of the bottles to her lips, quickly draining it of it’s contents.

Her attention turned to the now-empty bottle, “Great.” She muttered and tossed it away. She resolved to make a trip to the corner liquor shop for more beer later, right after she dug her wallet out of her jacket. Now where is it? She wondered, and then she remembered, That’s right. Back at the fight. In her frustration she’d left it, and with it, her money, her driver's license, the get-out-of-jail-free cards (literal get-out-of-jail-free cards), her ID and dog-tags, and the last picture she had of her and her brother.

She ran the fingers of her free hand through her once spiked short-cut hair, now caked with mud kept fresh by the rain. Tears welled in her eyes, this time she didn’t stop them from escaping. “D@mn horses!” she said again as her eyes squeezed shut, “D@mn robots!” she yelled and blindly hurled her other beer bottle at the wall, smashing it.

Jane fell to the floor and sobbed helplessly as the pain in her arms and shoulder she’d been ignoring became unbearable now.

---

A blue and yellow Pontiac G5 drove alone, as he always did. Alone down the long-abandoned highway that’d been out of service for years, alone at night. Alone amongst the seldom wrecks of old cars and trucks, the few run-down stations and shacks, all discarded and unused.

“Creepy,” he said to himself, So why do I feel so at home? He coasted to his right to avoid a large pothole, probably made by a stray missile during the early years when the Decepticons still tried conquering Earth.

Keeping his scanners trained on the road ahead, Hot-Shot took a moment to point one of his viewers to the night sky. Despite the wreckage all around him, he felt eased by the sky’s beauty. Primus, he thought happily, I love the night. Night was when he could be alone, it was when he could vanish out of sight of others, where he could be himself; alone and at peace. If his face were formed, he would have smiled.

He returned his attention back to the road, and avoided hitting the carcass of a dead dear. Sad, he thought, you just find them anywhere there’s a road. But then he began to slow down, Wait a minute, I thought deer had horns? He went through his databanks of North American wildlife; male deer, Bucks, did have horns, but the females, Does, were hornless, although he read that bucks also sometimes lost their horns.

He began to pick up speed again, but something still didn’t feel right. He checked his memory banks again, If it wasn’t the missing horns, then what’s eating at me, and then he found the image. It was hazy, it being recent and his focus at the time was off, but now he knew what’d tipped him off; what he’d written off as a doe had a dark blue mane.

Now he’d come to a complete stop. The image was still hazy, but it was more than enough to convince him to turn around. Slowly he pulled up to the body he’d passed and transformed to get a better look; yes, it was definitely Equestrian, a male earth pony, with a brown coat and a dark blue mane. He was sprawled out on the pavement, but not like he’d been hit, more like he’d simply dropped from exhaustion. It pained Hot-Shot to see this, knowing that the body laying there had once been a sentient being, not just a wild animal but a member of a dominant race, like himself and the humans.

He was about to transform and go back on his way, but something else was nagging at him. “Probably my sensors,” he realized. Hot-Shot had a bad habit of ignoring complete sensor readings, which was one reason why he liked being alone and out in the open; more reaction and recovery time. His sensors were detecting a heat signature; and it was close, “Where-?” he looked to the Equestrian and the signal was stronger. “It can’t be…” he said incredulously. His readings were faint; but definite, “He’s- he’s still alive-!” he said. He wondered then what to do; his alt-mode wasn’t a medical unit nor was he skilled in medicine of any sort.

“But I have to do something.” So he did the only thing he could think of; picked up the pony and transformed, careful not to accidentally crush him, and then drove off to the nearest hospital while searching the databanks for the closest ones.

Stay with me, buddy, he thought.

-
[PROLOGUE ] [ NEXT CHAPTER]