The Introduction of Barnstormer (Working Title)

Barnstormer looked off to both left and right as he climbed ever higher on the power of his wing muscles.  He was far above the gentle sprawl of countryside surrounding Ponyville, yet still low enough that he could make out the tiny dots of the Apple family working their farm in the early afternoon sun.  He smiled as the thought of them reminded him that there was a fresh batch of cider waiting for him at The Watering Hole when he returned, then turned his attention back to his race skyward.  He loved the look of the land from on high, the gentle curve of the earth, seeing just where everything really was in relation to everything else; he loved the wind whipping through his gold and black mane and the light gray of his hair coat.  And he loved, more than anything, the feeling of facing an opponent in combat, razor-sharp skills meeting each other in a lethal contest for the open sky.

For though I fly through the Valley of Death, I shall fear no Evil, for I am at seventy thousand feet and climbing! Barnstormer was reminded of his favorite maxim, the one displayed as a plaque over the hangars of the old SR-71 testing grounds; one he took to heart, and quite thoroughly encapsulated his feelings on being in the air.  Though he couldn't fly anywhere near that high alone, not unless he was behind the stick of his beloved F/A-18, he had gone higher using just his own wingpower than ever before.  The Apple farm had shrunk considerably, and it's caretakers had long since vanished from view.  As he started to tire, mostly due to the thinning of the atmosphere than any real overexertion, he let gravity slow his ascent until he was flat on his back, floating for the briefest of moments in weightlessness, exalting in the feeling of hanging between heavens and earth...and then he flipped himself head over heels until he was pointed straight down, flapping his wings harder than he ever, gaining as much speed as possible.

As the terrain hurtled towards him, growing larger in his view at a terrifying rate, Barnstormer angled his wings such that he entered a corkscrew maneuver, struggling against the battering winds to maintain his downward plunge.  Just before he reached the point of no return, the moment where he would have to pull out of the dive in order to not leave a pony-sized crater in the landscape outside Ponyville, he felt a thud, as if lightning had struck nearby, an impact to the air that rattled his bones.  Yet the sky was clear, the Pegasi had no rain scheduled for more than a week, which could only mean one thing-he had broken the sound barrier.  He chanced a quick glance behind him to confirm what he already knew-and yes, there it was; the evidence of a Sonic Rainboom to make that Wonderbolts fanatic he had heard about, Rainbow Dash, jealous.

Turning his head back to the front, he realized even that quick glance was too long-the ground had gotten much closer than he had expected it to be.  Splaying his wings and all four legs out to create as much drag as possible to slow himself, he pulled out of the now seemingly suicidal dive with no room to spare-he could feel blades of grass scraping his stomach as he blew by the orchards he had seen from miles above just seconds before, almost faster than could be tracked by a pony's eye.  Keeping his altitude steady, he corkscrewed a few times more, then slowed and pulled up to a more reasonable height.  Stopping to hover, he looked behind him-unmowed grass in the pastures besides the apple orchards was blown over in a wide, straight line for several miles along the trajectory he had been flying.  He laughed to himself at the sight he imagined he must have given Applejack and her relatives during his acrobatics, and at coming so close to being pony-paste on the ground.

Landing, Barnstormer brushed aside a lock of his mane that had come loose from the ponytail he kept it in with a hoof, and started to make his way over to the farm proper, to reassure his fellow ponies no harm had come to him.  Sure enough, Applejack, Applebloom, and Big Mac burst out of the nearest stand of apple trees before he had made it halfway there.

“Lands sakes, yah sure did give us a fright!” Applejack exclaimed, reaching him first and seeing at the smile on Barnstormer's face that he was obviously fine.  Thumping him lightly on the head with a hoof, she asked, “Just what exactly do yah think you were doing?”

“Um....flying?” Barnstormer replied with a smirk, to which Applejack rolled her eyes.

“Looked more like crashin' t'me,” she retorted.

“Yeah, yer lucky we didn't have to scrape you out of th' grass...though it looks like the grass might have to be scraped offa you there, friend,” Applebloom snickered, seeing the stain of green underneath Barnstormer's flanks.

“I...guess I did cut it a little close,” he admitted reluctantly, soliciting a traditional 'Eeeyup' from Big Mac, at which Barnstormer scowled playfully.

Starting back towards the farmhouse and motioning for Barnstormer to follow, Applejack asked, “So just where did yah learn t' fly like that, anyway?”  The question caught him a little off guard-he tended to forget that he was still a relatively new arrival in Ponyville, and the ponies here hadn't grown up with him, knowing the ins and outs of his life.

“Well, I grew up flying crop dusters for the family ranch back in Appleloosa, and sometimes, when the work was done and I had time to kill, I'd just do some acrobatics for a while.  When I realized how much I loved the adrenaline rush and pulling maneuvers like that, I joined up with a flying circus.  Did that for a while until one day when I lost track of where I was in a performance and ventured into a no fly zone and ended up getting chased by a couple guys from the Equestrian Royal Air Force.  I wound up pulling this insane move where I flew upside down through an open barn to get away from them, and one of the pilots chasing me happened to have some pull with the recruitment office, and saw that, tracked me down after, and made me an offer-spend an amount of time in jail wholly disproportionate to the crime...or fly for the ERAF.  The choice was obvious, so I took the job and wound up moving here to be closer to headquarters in Canterlot.  And that...is when I earned this,” Barnstormer said, turning so that the Apples could see the silhouetted F/A-18 that was his cutie mark.

Upon seeing his beloved markings, and noticing the pause when speaking of it, Applebloom's face contorted into an odd mixture of curiosity and pensiveness.  Seeing that Applebloom's flank was bare, and the quick glances Applejack and Big Mac gave Applebloom, he added, “I was a very late bloomer-didn't get my cutie mark until I was nearly a full grown stallion.”  Barnstormer didn't need to be told twice that the filly was self-conscious about the subject.

“Well, talk about yer lucky breaks,” Applejack said, eliciting another 'Eeeyup' from Big Mac, as she continued, “I imagine all that showing off just made yah right thirsty as a Parasprite's hungry.  How about some fresh squeezed cider, on th' house?”

Finally reaching the homestead, Barnstormer nodded emphatically, grateful for the generosity and the chance to save a few bits-military pay was decent, but nothing outstanding, after all.  He followed the family inside, already tasting the sweet, sweet cider and fully intending to enjoy every last drop.

***