What You Deserve

Lightning Dust didn't mean for any of this. Engaged to the mare of her dreams with a filly on the way. Her whole life she'd been standoffish, a loner, but now... Now she had friends, a growing family, and a job she enjoyed; in short more than she felt she'd ever deserved.

The true beginning was her time spent at the Wonderbolts Academy training camp. But that alone is a story told: from her excellence in the beginning to her downfall and demotion to wing pony for rival ace Rainbow Dash.

She took the lesson that she didn't need to push herself to the point of endangering herself and other ponies firmly to heart. The only problem was she became fearful of pushing herself at all. She flew slower, cut her workouts in half. She became reticent to speak to ponies at all, thinking they'd find her 'too full of herself'.

"Lightning Dust! This is the third time you've been late this week, what's your excuse this time?"

The factory foremare glared over her glasses at the tardy turquoise pegasus, who for her part was inspecting the flooring between her forehooves. This whole situation was familiar, the demeanor of the foremare and her behavior mirrored a certain fire-maned Captain. Lightning wouldn't have been surprised to discover they were related.

"I... I overslept, and couldn't catch a cab in time. You know what it's like in this town..."

The other mare folded her glasses and rubbed her temples with an irritable huff. Still, so much like Spitfire when the Wonderbolt had chewed her out that the resemblance was uncanny.

She rested her chin on her hoof and glanced back at the pegasus, who was twitching antsily under the angry glance thrown her way. After a full minute of maintaining her glare, she threw herself back in her chair and splayed her hooves wide.

"Dusty, I don't know what I'm going to do with you. You're late all the time, you reek of booze four days out of five... Your wings are almost always bandaged tight against your sides. I could hire an Earth pony for what I pay you who would get here on time and work harder than you."

Dusty's left wing was bandaged today. She'd woken up bloody and with a mouthful of feathers. She said nothing, just kept her eyes down and waited to be told to get her things and leave. When the mare finished speaking, she'd numbly turned and started trotting towards the door. She would collect her stuff and head home, yet another disappointment her father could berate his wayward daughter over. He'd been the one who had helped her get this job in Fillydelphia, at a factory that built gasoline carriages.

A snort from her employer brought her up short after a few paces, one hoof halfway towards the floor. Already she was doing mental calculations to figure out how far her meager possessions and savings would take her. Hopefully she'd quickly find another job and figure things out from there.

"I wasn't done with you, Dusty." She rested her chin on her hooves as she glared over her horn-rimmed glasses at the turquoise mare before her, who settled back on her haunches. "Your father is a good friend of mine, and I've known you since before you were born."

The foremare sighed and rubbed her temples again, setting aside her glasses on the table as she took a moment.

"I talked to a friend of mine, a couple days ago. She... said she would take a chance on you, for whatever it's worth. Old Thunder Cracker would be rolling in his grave if I fucked over his granddaughter."

For the first time since she'd awoken, Lightning Dust felt a small glow of hope in her stomach. Or maybe it was the bourbon. She couldn't tell the difference anymore.

"The only thing is, she lives in Ponyville. Operates a small shipping company. Think you can handle making your way out there and running packages?"

Lightning suddenly grinned as she stood up straight-- that warmth was definitely hope. A new town, a new start... "Yes Ma'am."

"Great. Now get out of my office." The mare returned to her paperwork with a small grump as Lightning fairly dashed to the door before being held up by her former employer's voice. "Dusty? Good luck."

Lightning gave her broadest grin over her shoulder as she snapped off a smart salute, only barely missing hitting herself upside the head. "Thank you, Rainy. I'll make you proud."

Lightning's head echoed with the last words of the mare behind her as she ran home, weaving and staggering through the crowds that filled Filly at this time of day.

Don't make me proud, kid. Do it for yourself, make yourself proud.

It was midday when she finally made it to her apartment, skidding to a halt as she fumbled for her keys. There was nopony to really say goodbye to; Rainy Days was the only pony in the entirety of Fillydelphia that she knew more than obliquely. She was on a week-to-week lease, so there wasn't much for that, either.

She had no posters, no artwork, really nothing displayed or that even belonged to her. First things first, she hunted through her fridge for her last bottle, unscrewing the cap with a fluid motion of her hoof. A bright grin on her muzzle as she collapsed on her back, the neck of the bottle held firmly in her teeth. She spluttered once or twice, before settling into a rhythm of draining the entire bottle of whiskey in one go.

She would need the liquid courage for the rest of the day. She loosed a quiet burp as she staggered shakily back to her hooves. Her apartment required only the slightest bit of cleaning, she still prided herself on decent housekeeping. Once every surface was wiped down and the last of the garbage taken out, she dropped the box containing her documents into a satchel designed to sling between her wings.

Every other piece of property that she owned, that she'd be taking with her, fit inside one single olive-drab military surplus duffle bag.

She was good at running, after all, and lived sparsely.

The rest of her bits, both hard currency and the new strips of plastic that authorized the transfer of an agreed-upon number of imaginary bits from an imaginary bank vault to the recipient through an electronic terminal, settled neatly into her satchel.

Within ten minutes, she was standing in line to purchase a ticket on the last train out of Fillydelphia heading to Ponyville.

Within twenty, she'd snapped up the collar of her Wonderbolt Cadet jacket against the chill, flaring both wings as she looked over her shoulder at the receding city behind her. It wasn't likely that she'd ever return.

Inside of an hour, she was passed out drunk in her seat, dreaming of past failures and future successes.

A new town, a fresh start.