Corruption is Magic: Ten Seconds Flat
The stadium roared with the cries of rabid fans, cheering their respective favorite teams on to victory. The white-hot lights beat down on the artificial turf from every angle, further amplifying the exhausted teams’ sweating. Eleven young stallions gathered into a huddle, decked out in hoofball pads and gold colored home jerseys. The clock was frozen at eight seconds in the final quarter of the state championship game. Their team, the Omahay High Griffins, was trailing the visiting team, the Lincolt North High Manticores, twenty to twenty-four. They were on the thirty-yard line, were currently using the last of their time-outs, and prepared to plan their last play.
The orange unicorn at the head of the huddle, the quarterbuck, popped out his mouth guard, and let it hang from his facemask. “Alright, guys,” he began, “we’ve only got time for one play, and we need a touchdown. We’ve gotta go for the Hail Mary.” This risky play just so happened to be what the quarterbuck was named after. “We’re going into Shotgun formation.” Hail Mary called out to a pony on the sidelines. “Shotgun! Get out here!”
One of the ponies left the huddle and galloped off of the field, stopping to bump hooves with a dark green earth pony coming the opposite direction.
Shotgun fell into the huddle. “What’s the play?”
“Hail Mary, on one.” The quarterbuck’s horn glowed orange, and his mouth guard flew back into his mouth. “One, Two, Three, BREAK!” The team shouted as they left the huddle.
The five lineponies lined up in front of the ball, Shotgun in the middle. The solid wall of stallions looked up and stared at the defense in front of them, searching their faces for any signs of weakness or fatigue. Shotgun leaned forward, placing his front hooves on the ball, and Hail Mary squatted a few yards behind, ready to accept Shotgun’s snap. Everypony else lined up on the line of scrimmage, several yards left or right of the lineponies; ready to hoof it down the field for the quarterbuck’s deep pass.
“Down,” Hail Mary shouted. “Set…HIKE!” Shotgun tossed the ball quickly between his hind legs, and it soared through the air, into Hail Mary’s waiting hooves. The receivers kicked up small clouds of dirt as they sprinted down the field towards the end zone, and the quarterbuck hopped up on his hind legs, preparing to chuck the ball at one of them.
Shotgun and the other lineponies crashed into the oncoming defense, trying to buy their quarterbuck some time. The offensive and defensive lines locked into a battle of wills, five individual wrestling matches. The sweaty green stallion looked up and locked eyes with the determined linebucker in front of him. Several veins bulged out of Shotgun’s neck as he tried to keep his opponent at bay.
The two of them struggled for control for a brief second, until Shotgun’s hind legs buckled under him. He fell to the turf, sending him rolling backward onto his back, and allowing the linebucker to run right over him. The victorious linebucker charged the quarterbuck as fast as he could. Hail Mary hopped back frantically, but the linebucker tackled him to the ground, and the final seconds wound off of the timer. Three…Two…One…Zero.
A harsh buzz came from the scoreboard as the clock hit zero, cementing the Manticores’ victory. The Manticores pumped their hooves in the air, expelling enough energy to blow the ceiling off of the stadium, if there was one. The Griffins, however, had the polar opposite reaction. The whole team slumped over in defeat as the players walked back to the sidelines. In the spirit of good sportsponyship, the teams walked down the width of the field from their respective sidelines, and bumped hooves as they passed each other, before returning to their buses. The newly crowned state champions hooted and hollered all the way back to Lincolt, but their opponents rode back to their school in silence.
The downtrodden shuffling of hundreds of hooves on pristine white tiles echoed throughout the Omahay High School locker room as the defeated team began to put away their uniforms. Dozens of deep blue lockers flew open, and angrily slammed shut. Shotgun slammed his locker particularly hard. He shook his head like a wet dog in an attempt to knock loose his dark brown mane, which was plastered to his head with sweat. The green earth pony then walked over to Hail Mary, who was still trying to stuff his bulky pads into his locker.
“Hay, Hail Mary,” Shotgun began, “sorry about that last play. I bucked up pretty hard.”
The orange unicorn slammed his locker shut. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, Shotgun. Everypony has those days.”
“Not on the night of the state championship they don’t.”
“At least we made it to the state championship. And besides, there’s always next year.”
“Half of our starting lineup is graduating this year,” Shotgun said. “We’d be pretty hard pressed to make it back next year.”
“But Hay!” Hail Mary said with a smile. “You can bet your flank we’re gonna try.”
Shotgun left the locker room and began his moonlit walk home, with that last play running depressingly through his head over and over. He relived his struggle with that linebucker in slow motion. He remembered his opponent’s fiery amber eyes, the beads of hot sweat running down both of their faces, and he remembered the linebucker run right past him when Shotgun collapsed on the turf. He remembered the blaring alarm signaling their defeat, and the disappointed cries of all of his school’s fans. In that one falter of power, that one moment of weakness, Shotgun had destroyed everything that his team had worked towards for the past year.
I’m not strong enough, he thought to himself. I’m just not strong enough.
He passed a telephone pole, and bucked it angrily with one of his hind legs. A blue sheet of paper was knocked loose, and it fluttered down to the sidewalk. It landed face-up and Shotgun looked down to read it.
Do you wish you were stronger? Do you wish you were faster? Do you wish you were a better athlete? Then you should sign up for Rainbow Dash’s Athletic Conditioning Camp. Rainbow Dash won this year’s Best Young Flyer Competition, and holds several records at the Wonderbolt’s Training Academy. For just fifty bits, you can spend seven days training with one of Equestria’s greatest athletes, and learning her vigorous training regimen. Rainbow Dash’s camp will change your life, or your money back.
Attached to the flyer were several perforated strips of paper with a phone number on them. Shotgun ripped one off with his teeth, and continued his walked home, suddenly much less depressed.
Corruption is Magic: Ten Seconds Flat
Shotgun boarded the train, his saddlebags full of everything he would need for the next week. His large sack of bits jingled in his saddlebags as he sat down in an aisle seat, next to a brown pegasus stallion with bright orange eyes. Shotgun took notice of the stallion’s jacket. It was a red letterpony jacket, with the letters LNH sewn onto it.
“Cool jacket,” Shotgun said.
“Thanks,” the stallion replied. “I just got a new patch for it, and thought I’d show it off a little.” He showed Shotgun the back of his jacket, which was blazoned with a large patch that read State Hoofball Champions ’13.
Shotgun looked at the brown pegasus’ amber eyes, and it hit him. “LNH,” Shotgun began. “That wouldn’t happen to stand for Lincolt North High, would it?”
“It would. I’m starting defensive linebucker on the Manticores’ championship team.”
“You’re a linebucker… for Lincolt North? I’m the center for the Omahay Griffins.”
The linebucker looked at Shotgun’s face, as if imagining it with a hoofball helmet over it. “Oh yeah. You were blocking me in the last play.”
Shotgun rolled his eyes and gave a light chuckle. “Don’t remind me.”
“So, where are you headed?”
“I saw a flyer for a conditioning camp in Ponyville, and I thought I’d go check it out.”
“Hay! That’s where I’m going.”
“Sweet! My name’s Shotgun, by the way.”
“I’m Blitzkrieg.” The two new friends bumped hooves, and continued their conversation as the Equestrian countryside rolled by.
Several carriages rolled up to the fitness facility on the outskirts of Ponyville in which Rainbow Dash held her camp. The facility was complete with a gymnasium, weight room, hoofball field, running track, small mess hall, and about a dozen cabins. The blue pegasus herself was waiting to greet the incoming campers, wearing a red baseball cap on her head, and a silver whistle around her neck.
“Welcome to camp everypony!” Rainbow Dash greeted, taking a quick count of the arrivals. “We should still have a few campers coming, but for now, just pick a cabin, put your stuff away, and meet in the weight room.”
As the plethora of young pony athletes walked off toward the cabins, Rainbow Dash briefly looked over each one of them, sizing up their athletic ability. One particular stallion’s stature caught her attention: he was a brown pegasus wearing a red letterpony jacket. Another pony caught her attention for a completely different reason: an orange pegasus filly, with a purple mane and a blank flank.
“Scootaloo?” Rainbow Dash said. “You signed up for my camp? You do know this is more tailored towards high school age ponies, right?”
“Don’t worry about me. I can handle it!” Scootaloo said energetically. “Besides, I’ll take any chance I can get to spend time with my hero!”
Rainbow Dash smiled at the filly’s comment, and then simply shrugged. “As long as you pay, I guess it really doesn’t matter.”
About fifteen minutes later, everypony had been counted present, and were gathered in the weight room. After a short set of warm-up exercises, Rainbow Dash briefed the group on their workout.
The weight room was made of pristine white bricks, and the floor was a thin rubbery padding. Several weightlifting benches were aligned in rows, taking up the majority of the floor space. Wedged between the benches were a series of small racks, holding large metal weights of various sizes. A plethora of different workout apparatuses were scattered around the room, and the back wall was taken up by a large trough, full to the brim of ice-cold water.
“Alright everypony,” Rainbow Dash said. “Let’s start with the Bench Press, three sets, eight reps. Then the Incline Press, three sets, eight reps, and then we’ll do Upright Row, three sets, ten reps. Partner up, grab a bench, and lets get going!” The crowd of ponies dispersed, dividing into groups of two and spreading out along the rows of benches.
Shotgun and Blitzkrieg shared a bench, and Blitzkrieg got ready for his first set.
“How much weight do you want, Blitz?” Shotgun asked.
“60 pounds,” he replied, “on each side.”
“60 pounds? You can do three sets with that much weight?”
“Easy, now let’s set up.”
The two stallions lifted a series of large metal disks off of the weight racks, and onto the bar: First a forty-five pound, then a ten pound, then a five pound, and then they repeated the process on the other side of the bar. Blitzkrieg then climbed onto the bench, and positioned himself under the ridiculously heavy bar. Shotgun crouched behind the bench, ready to catch the bar, should anything go wrong.
Blitzkrieg lifted the bar off of its perch above the bench, and lowered it down to his chest. He already began to breathe heavily as he pumped the bar back up with his forelegs. He repeated this process seven more times, each one with more grunting and sweating, before finally returning the bar to its rack.
Shotgun did his first set of bench presses, with significantly less weight, and the two stallions went on with the rest of their workout.
After the campers had finished their lifts, they gathered around the trough for a nice, long drink, and then Rainbow Dash sent them back to their cabins for a little rest. However, she called out for Blitzkrieg to stay behind.
A few minutes later, Blitzkrieg returned to his cabin, where he was rooming with Shotgun.
“What was that about?” The curious green stallion asked.
“The Coach wants to do some sort of private training session with me tonight.”
“Cool!”
“I’ll probably be late for lights out tonight.”
“Whatever. So long as you don’t wake me up coming back, I don’t care.”
The following morning, Shotgun’s pre-set alarm clock blared through his cabin. He slammed his hoof onto the off button, and sat up in his bunk, stretching his forelegs.
“Hay, Blitz,” The green stallion yawned. “You up yet?” No answer came to him. Shotgun rapped a hoof on the metal frame of the bed, attempting to rouse the pony below. “Come on Blitz, get up. We gotta get some breakfast before our morning workout.” Still there was no response. Shotgun crawled out of his bunk, and climbed down to the floor to wake his sleeping roommate, only to find that his bed was empty. Not only that, but the sheets were perfectly arranged as they were the night before.
“Maybe he already went down to breakfast.” Shotgun left the cabin, and headed over to the mess hall.
When Shotgun sat down for breakfast, he skimmed the room for his friend. He focused on almost two-dozen faces, but found a particular brown face missing. After breakfast, Shotgun walked up to Rainbow Dash, and inquired about his missing roommate.
“Hay, coach?” The green stallion asked.
Rainbow Dash turned to acknowledge Shotgun. “What’s up?”
“My roommate, Blitzkrieg, didn’t come back to our cabin last night, and I don’t see him here. Do you know what the deal is?”
“Oh, yeah. Blitzkrieg. He decided he didn’t want to stay at this camp. He bailed out last night.”
“Huh. I didn’t expect him to be the type to give up so quickly.” Shotgun and the other campers went down to the weight room for a light morning workout.
Later that day, everypony was out on the hoofball field doing drills. Fourteen of the campers were in the end zone, seven of them with weighted sleds tethered to a harness around their body, seven without. The other seven ponies were twenty yards away, positioned in a specific spot for their first drill: a relay race.
Rainbow Dash blew her whistle, and the ponies with the harnesses shot off down the field, dragging the heavy sleds with them. The first group of ponies finished their leg of the relay, and removed their harnesses, hoofing them off to their partners waiting for them on the twenty-yard line. This second group of ponies headed back down the field, to the third group of ponies back where the first group had stood.
Shotgun’s partners had fallen behind, and by the time Shotgun got into his harness, everypony else was ten yards ahead of him. His competitive nature took over his body, and he barreled down the field after them. His legs fired like pistons as the sled was whisked across the grass. Adrenaline filled his blood stream, fueling him to perform past his normal capabilities. He gave that run one hundred and ten percent. He came back from being behind by ten yards to cross the twenty-yard line first. The relay was repeated several times, and each time produced a similar scenario.
The relays were over, the Adrenaline in Shotgun’s system wore off, and his body caught up with him. Sweat ran down his face by the bucket, he panted like a dog, and his muscles ached. Rainbow Dash dismissed the campers for a break, but asked Shotgun to stay behind.
“You’re pretty strong, kid.” The blue pegasus said. “Your name’s Shotgun, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The green stallion panted. “Thank you.”
“How about you come by my office at lights out tonight, and we can do some private training?”
“ Yes ma’am.” Shotgun returned to his cabin to recover for his next workout.
The sun had set, and the moon was beginning to peek out over the horizon as Shotgun entered Rainbow Dash’s office, adjacent to the gymnasium.
“Coach?” he said, peeking his head into the room. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah.” She replied. “Follow me.” Rainbow Dash exited her office, and Shotgun followed her out of the gym, and into the cold night. They crossed the track, and Shotgun noticed three small separate rooms on the other side of the field. He assumed that two of them were locker rooms, but he had no idea as to what the third could be. Rainbow Dash led the young stallion to the middle one of these three rooms. The door had a keypad next to it, and a sign on it that read: Only Authorized Ponies Beyond This Point. Rainbow dialed a combination on the keypad, slid the door open, and they went inside.
The room was flooded with a dim green light, which came from just above the door. The walls and floor of the small room were covered in a thick black padding, and the whole space stank of sweat. It was unmistakably a wrestling ring.
“First things first,” Rainbow Dash said, “we’re going to wrestle.”
“Alright.” Shotgun said. It was then his eyes fell on the corner of the room. Hunched over in the corner, was Blitzkrieg. “Is that Blitzkrieg? What’s he doing here?”
Rainbow Dash looked over at the motionless brown stallion. “Oh, him? He was my last sparring partner. He couldn’t handle Equestria’s greatest athlete.”
Upon further inspection, Shotgun realized that Blitzkrieg was dead.
Author's Note
Thank you for being patient while I try to get this story out while dealing with school, band and theatre. Next chapter is where the sex and gore come into play, so buckle your seatbelts everypony!