Chapter 1

“Jeez would it have killed you to wake me before you left?”

Dumbbell held his head low as he skulked into the supply room, still shuffling on the coat, and straightening the helmet between his ears before finding an inconspicuous corner, in hopes that his late arrival wouldn’t be noticed by any pony important.

“Dude, I tried,” A taller orange pony with a brown mane sidled up to him and opened a locker. “I knocked on your door for like twenty minutes. You didn’t even wake up enough to tell me to shut up.”

Dumbbell groaned in frustration as he maneuvered a set of double layered rubber boots onto his hooves. “Some friend you are, Hoops. Later today I’m getting an alarm clock.” he said, while pulling out a tightly bound coil of a netted like material from a pristine white locker.

“Hey if you want a decent sleep pattern, I suggest you take a sleeping bag with you when you go to the gym.” Hoops shrugged as he hoisted his own net, and laughed when his friend barely managed to stifle an incoming yawn for long enough to cast him a devilish glare.

“Whatever,” he said. “So what level storm do they need this time?”

“About a stage two,” Hoops answered. “With more rain than wind this time.”

Dumbbell couldn’t help but smirk as he slung the net over his shoulder. “They complained about wind?” he asked.

“More about lightning actually,” said Hoops. “ Like a bolt struck an old dead tree and caught it alight. It freaked some of the residence.”

They both walked to the cloud depot at a leisurely pace, passing the air pressure and wind current monitor room, and the snow melting plant, a large cylindrical construct of terminals and tubing, where the water was run through to the pumping station to be purified and separated for rain, fog and mist.

“That ain’t our problem, the warning system gave them a whole two days to deal with dead trees before we move a storm their way,” Which was true, sometimes even three days, yet sometimes it seemed the wingless ones below had a hard time doing just the little bit required of them to avoid accidents.

“Not much we can do about dead trees catching fire after the clouds start putting out.”

They reached the depot and flew out into open air. The depot itself was a large room on the west side of the complex, that sifted the clouds through pipes, that eventually floated out of a gigantic upturned funnel on the outside. Ten other ponies were already hovering around the mouth of the funnel with their nets stretched over the holes to catch the angry grey clouds as they drifted out and carried them into the open sky. Dumbbell looked out across the factory’s expanse and noticed something with begrudging recognition.

“Oh great, look whos here.” Dumbbell muttered. “Natureists at your six, Hoops.” This surprised his friend who turned around. From his position near the depot Dumbbell could see at least a dozen forms settling atop one of the suspended glass walkways. Half of them were holding big white signposts covered in bold black writing above their heads. Hoops tilted his head back and Dumbbell could tell he was rolling his eyes despite his obtrusive bangs.

“Oh great the protest pigeons are back!” Hoops shouted. “On a storm day! A stoooorm daaaay!”
If the ponies on top of the walkway heard him they didn’t seem to take the hint causing the stallion to groan in resignation. “That’s just what we need.” His voice ran thick with annoyance.

A few of the other weather ponies saw the gathering on the bridge and flew closer to get a better look.

“Oh no, not them again — do you see them too?” A spring green and plum maned pegasus flew over head toward the smattering yet growing congregation.

“You are not allowed in this area!” The weather pony cupped her hooves near her mouth in an attempt to elevate her voice. “This is weather management property and airspace, please leave!”

None of the protesters moved and started chanting as if the mare’s approach was the signal to start. The weather mare tried again in vain to get the protest ponies to listen to her but they took no notice.

“Don’t waste your voice on them, May.” said Hoops.

Dumbbell nodded in agreement. “Yeah it’s not worth it.”

“These storm clouds are heavy with electricity.” Merry May turned back to them, worriedly rubbing her gloved hooves against each other. “If they fly too close without protection they could,—”

“Let’s hope they aren’t that stupid and leave them to security.” Dumbbell grumbled dismissively before grabbing Hoops’ attention and flying to the funnel, where another big grey cloud peaked like a brooding creature, heaving and bellowing over the sides.

If Dumbbell had to pick a date on which a series of strange happenings at the Cloudsdale weather management complex began,he would probably pick the third of April. He remembered it clearly because some jerk stole his lunch from the fridge, and the day after that was Rainbow Dash’s birthday.

He remembered because she had invited him to the celebration but he couldn’t go due to storm season. It was usual that at the end of March and the very beginning of April, most of the preparations for the rainy season began. That was typically when Cloudsdale reused all of the recycled snow collected from the towns and cities below, refilling the aquifers and giving spring a big jump start.

Unfortunately for him, Dumbbell was assigned to distribution duties during this crunch time and the higher ups decided it wasn’t in their best interest to allow him a day off on that particular week. That, and he had already used up his sick days before the invitation was given. He was a little bummed about that, especially when the stories started drifting skyward. It must have been a true spectacle.

But missed birthdays aside, the real problem actually started late winter. First there was a thing with the head manager of the cloud factory. One morning he walked in grey faced, an actual feat considering he was tortilla colored, and announced he was going to take the rest of the day off because he wasn’t feeling that great. His condition was so bad that when he made it to his house, his wife instructed him to immediately go to the hospital. Walk, not fly, to avoid injury, so it was serious. He was apparently suffering a bad fainting spell. A few of days of observation said it was the flu, and a week after that the diagnosis was some kind of stress related heart trouble.

This all came on a wave of bad timing since the Cloudsdale weather factory was the largest in Equestria, it was technically in charge of all the smaller weather factories that dotted the country.

Little villages were starting to grow into cities and it was the Cloudsdale manager’s job to make sure any township with the right prospects was provided with its own station. That included all of the equipment and machinery needed to generate weather, which were all produced in Cloudsdale only, as special orders. In this case it was a little town on the west coast called Reedsport which was the biggest commercial grower of kelp and other edible sea plants. It was decided that a small weather station be put there for the benefit of the crop, that needed specially monitored conditions for the best possible output. And to prevent natural storms from washing it all away.

But after the bosses sudden sick leave, it became obvious to the the staff that the move would have to happen without his guidance, something that hadn’t been an issue in most of their life times. The weather manager was good at his job, and without him, some of the other higher ups felt uneasy.

But by the time his shift ended, stolen lunches, intruding protesters, and managerial problems were the least of his concerns. He had someplace to be and things to do. Not that he ran a risk of being late, but he wanted to be early all the same.

Dumbbell flew across the weather factory and down to the residential district. Cloudsdale isn’t the easiest city to get to and most ground bound ponies, griffins and other foreign creatures think of it as one chaotic mass of clouds clinging together like dryer lint. With only the top most spires of randomly spaced buildings, the weather complex’s being most prominent, sticking out over the hazy covering. But in fact the innermost construct of the floating city was built like a stout funnel with layers connected by sturdy columns. Or for a baker pony’s comparison, a big upside down floating wedding cake with too much buttercream icing thrown on.

There was more than enough space for Hundreds of pegasi to fly to and fro across the hollow or “core” of Cloudsdale, making all of the receding levels easily accessible from the the center hub, in a way making it an open air freeway. Though unlike Manehatten, temper exploding traffic was no issue here.

He touched down in front of the gym, a grey building with no defining traits other than it looked like a big cinder block.

He stepped into the gym unnoticed, and saw several pieces of equipment already in use. It definitely wasn’t a swanky establishment in the rich part of town. A large one room affair partitioned to make three rooms filled front to back with the metal frames of weight racks, cable rows, a leg press, a self powered treadmill, and a large smith machine at the center. Stuck on the walls were the usual, practically obligatory posters of encouragement along with instruction charts on how to use the equipment correctly. There was a boxing ring on the other side of the thick curtain, along with gloves and bags and at least a dozen chairs to enjoy a show.

Though he came here often to work out that wasn’t the reason for his visit. In one shuffled corner three ponies stood next to a large white sign up poster sporting an illustration of an armored pegasus pulling a decorated chariot, as if buffeted on both sides by heavy ice and snow. Dumbbell had met those three particular ponies in November of last year. A beginner Chariot pull team with aspirations for the national competition. Their chance encounters won the Drumfires the race that kept them in the runnings and sparked a friendship that got Dumbbell involved as a reserve player.

“Hey, no need to fear.” Dumbbell called out and sauntered across and gained the three ponies attention. “Your star player is here.”

A long legged arctic blue pony with a yellow mane turned around, a smile wide on his face.

“You guys, is that a pony or a big ham coming towards us right now?”

After Highball, Tango was next to respond.

“Whoohahahaah!” The dusty mulberry colored mare with a streaked coconut cream mane didn’t notice when everyone in the building winced.

“Ham’s don’t have wings, Highball. I’m pretty sure we’re looking at a giant turkey!”

“Hah, funny.” Dumbbell’s wave of embarrassment ebbed away when he realized they were joking. “As if a turkey could pull your lightweight tails out of humiliating loss by gimped wing!”

“Ooooh, I dunno.” Tango creased her eyebrows. “I’ve seen some pretty athletic turkeys...”

Dumbbell had no choice but to turn her ridiculous logic around. “Alright, alright, so just admit out loud that you’re all so lame it took the hardlined will of a turkey to drag your sorry asses from the brink of defeat, and win you last year’s silver trophy.”

The Drumfire’s third and shortest member, an often silent stallion named Pompellyite tossed his head and snorted. “Good job making us sound completely pathetic, Tango. Could you try thinking out what you say next time?”

Tango’s new laugh lacked the volume and mirth of her first, and her ears went flat, deflated by thorough self humiliation.

“I take it back.”

Hightball’s smile returned without faltering. “Enough ham and turkey talk,” He brought up his hoof and prodded Dumbbell in the chest. “You’re a good racer, kid. But you’re still a rookie. The trophy we won last year was foal’s play. Real chariot races don’t happen on tracks.”

Pompellyite nodded with a stiff neck. “Harshest terrain, roughest weather.”

“Which is why get eight months to train.” Tango’s flightiness diminished. “This is serious stuff. And we need you to be committed.”

Dumbbell couldn’t help but meet their stalwart faces with his own sure grin

“When do we get started?”

They started that day, and flew out to the cloudeseum to test their agility and speed with sky hoops. After two hours of tiring exercises they decided to roost at the Lofty Waffle, a popular three meal diner that sat on a small island in the middle of the cloud city’s busy hub. The Lofty Waffle was nearly perpetually full but they managed to snag the only open table left and ordered something hardy.

“I mean I tried to warn her, I tried tellin her the guy was no good.” Tango shrugged before she took a strong sip of soda. “But she didn’t listen, and the next she knew, he was gone, with half her life savings!” She sighed and leaned back. “Sheesh, just like a stallion.”

“What?” The question from the two stallions sitting next to her was unanimous.

“What, what? You know it’s true!” Stubbornly she started grinding down on hay fries. “A typical stallion is always lookin for a mare who will set him up for life. It’s like, in your blood or something.”

“Is that what you think of us?” Highball looked crestfallen and somehow pathetic with a piece of lettuce hanging from the side of his mouth.

“Huh, I have no idea what mare crazy sewing circles you’re getting that idea from.” Dumbbell crossed his hooves against his chest. “But I suggest you stop going before they make you completely insane.”

“Heeey, what do you mean completely insane?” Tango eyed him intensely but her jab to his ribs was meant in jest.

“What I’m saying is —” He paused, suddenly he sensed the space next to him was empty.

“Did anypony see where Pomp went?” he asked, leaning over the seat to see better. He hadn’t seen him in the isles or around the front counter.

Dumbbell hadn’t noticed Pompell slip away to buy a newspaper that was always sold at the front of the diner. By the time he realized their stout teammate had gone missing, he was already walking back with the news paper clamped in his mouth. They all watched as he silently retook his place at the bar, uncurled the paper, shuffled a few of the pages with his hooves and quietly began to read.

Tango gawked with a slightly lowered jaw and a twinge in her left eye. “Uh, okay, rude.” But there seemed to be no recognition of guilt on the part of her teammate. Pompellyite sucked air through one nostril and slouched into his paper as if Dumbbell and the others had ceased to exist.

“Uh, Pomp, could you not start reading in the middle of our talk?”

The paper shuffled again as Pompell scanned the columns for his desired read.

“Pompell seriously?” Tango spat.

“I want to read the economy section.” The olive pony replied simply, but the annoyance twinge remained on Tango’s face.”At least read the sports section.” As Tango lifted her right hoof onto her teammate’s shoulder and peeked over at the grey and black print, the anger lines on her face started to soften. “Hey, I wanna see what my horoscope is.” she said.

Dumbbell managed to cough back half of a laugh but Highball didn’t bother.

“You don’t even turn that quick in the air, Tango girl.”

“Hey I’m working on my turning!” she glanced back at her friend to protest. “Which is why I need to know my foreseeable future.” She leaned back over the paper as Pompell was doing, prodding him to heed her request.

“Alright alright,” It took a minute but he finally succumbed. Just as he was about to turn the page, he paused again. “Hmmm, whats this all about?” he murmured.

“What? What is it?” By now Tango was practically laying on top of the shorter pony, her eyes were actively scanning but seemed to make no connection. Her voice suddenly sounded thick with anticipation. “Is it another star sugar scandal?”

“No nothing like that but just as curious.” Pompell’s statement brought Dumbbell and Highball around. They had been dumped to the side of the new conversation and were not going to stand for it.

“So what the heck is it, Pomp?” Dumbbell asked impatiently.

“A reported incident at a Correctional Education Facility located in Tall Tale .” Pompell answered. He didn’t even seemed irked by the pressure of three adult ponies pressing down on his back.

“Tall Tale?” Dumbbell mused. He might have been there. Once. Or most likely he had only flown over and forgot that he did. The place was very small and surrounded on all sides by forest. Nothing about the place seemed interesting except that it was 300 miles south of Vanhoover and 800 miles north of Los Pegasus. The town sat on a slope of trees that eventually morphed into the great Smokey Mountain with no marked roads to be seen, making the place virtually impossible to access by hoof unless you took a train. Probably a scenic location,but it didn’t sound like the type of place Dumbbell felt would be the most comfortable of living spaces.

“Sounds spooky.” Tango said out loud. “This is one of those lonelier places near the coast isn’t it?”

Dumbbell nodded. “Yeah, with a fog that rolls in so thick you can cut it with a knife, and I guess they’re happy with that.” he said as he scratched his mane. “Our rotations don’t ever take us there.”

“So I hope you don’t mind when I ask...” Highball squinted over the tiny print. “Just what is a Correctional Education Facility?”

Tango seemed to have already thought it through and was quickest to answer. “Isn’t that a school?”

Highball shrugged, seeming to agree with that assessment. “It’s got education in the name.” he mused.

“Uh, but wait... what about the correctional part?” Dumbbell asked. “What are they correcting?”

“Hmmm correctional education,” Tango rubbed her chin in concentration. “Oh yeah, it’s got to be a school about fixing things. Like a mechanic!”

Highball stomped his hoof on the floor in triumph. “That’s got to be it!”

“Right, yeah, so, so the incident might have been an explosion!”

Pompell released a long graveled sigh. “It’s a prison.” That was quickly met with a strong silence.

Dumbbell grimaced. “A prison? Then why don’t they call it that?

Pompell shrugged. “Maybe they don’t want to worry ponies.”

Dumbbell shook his head, not approving of the weird dishonesty. In the brief pause he took the time to actually look at the article. It wasn’t very long, only a few lines with very brief, very vague wording.

Accident at Correctional Education Facility

On April 3rd at approximately 4:30 that morning, there was an explosion

at the First Equestrian Correctional Education Facility in the town of Tall Tale. Caused when a boiler at the bottom of the facility exploded. In the time it took to quell damages, three figures were seen running off into the forest and one inmate is reported missing. Authorities say the forest has been laced with hexes and trap spells in a ten mile radius, and the inmate should be returned in the very near future.

And the article was on a page at the very back of the newspaper. Huh, when did they think a pony would ever get around to reading this?

Tango finally got to her horoscope. It was something weird about remaining self-assured because of foreseen esteem challenges that needed to be settled. Then interest quickly shifted to the well reported and much less vague sports section, and the four sentence article about criminals loose in some remote part of the country was forgotten.

After the lunch, Dumbbell said his goodbyes to his teammates and finally flew back to his apartment, which unlike the gym, was not located on the low side of town. It was a much nicer arrangement on the near opposite side where all of the living spaces were comprised of beautiful high rises, luxury apartments, and small mansions on fanciful little hills of pearly white cloudstone.

It was pretty redundant to call any part of Cloudsdale hightown or lowtown given the nature of the city itself. It was only meant as a way to separate the more expensive part from the much more affordable side. In Cloudsdale, there was no such thing as a slum because the compact space simply couldn’t allow such a thing, but hightown was much more affluently decorated. How could a mundane weather worker afford affluent arches and decorated columns? The simple answer was he couldn’t pay the full rent for even the cheapest space and that was why he only paid half.

“Hey I’m back!” Dumbbell pulled his key out of the door and slid the door closed with a soft click. He was greeted with silence as he stepped down into the living room. Two hundred and twenty square feet of dark woven carpet rolled under two long couches that neatly framed the corners of an old solid oak coffee table. A really good piece of furniture that didn’t show its age. A few feet ahead of him was the long galley kitchen that had one of those nice looking refrigerators that looked liked cabinets, blending into the decor. Before the kitchen there was a room that lead off from the living room after walking into a small alcove. Dumbbell went to the door and saw the sign hanging off the latch from a string.

‘Do Not Disturb’

He smirked and rolled his eyes. No wonder Hoops hadn’t said anything. A curious side of him was impudent enough to try and peek anyway, but he knew better. “Didn’t take him long.” he mused under his breath before walking back across the living space to a narrow set of stairs that lead up to his own room.
It was a small room with tan walls and an arched ceiling, but just big enough for a bed, a chair, and a desk, and that was about all he felt he needed to get by, since he didn’t spend very much time inside the place. Off to the side there was a small walk in closet, but he did nothing with that but fill it with various pieces of sports equipment and books. Nothing else stood out except for one particular interest that covered his walls.

Over the headboard hung one vertical poster of Fleetfoot. He wasn’t really a fan of the Wonderbolts but hey, he appreciated a nice flank on the wall greeting him every morning. The rest of the space was slowly being encroached upon by maps of all things, set up in plain wooden picture frames, physical, and topographical. Most of them souvenirs he brought back after his impromptu excursions around Equestria, and the few times he left the country when he could. Above his desk was a large map of Equestria that marked the land predating Luna’s banishment. Those were seriously hard to come by but he had a knack at putting on the heat to get things when he wanted it bad enough. That stall pony from the trader’s exchange four years ago wouldn’t disagree.

He jumped into the bed and lay his head on the pillow in anticipation for what he hoped would be a restful night. He sighed as he fidgeted in the darkness, letting his thoughts wind down and wander backwards, to his place on the chariot pull team, the vexing news article, and those protest pigeons that somehow managed to sneak past security. Those blue coats were slipping at their job, not that he didn't understand why. It was boring work, but also easy work, and sometimes he was tempted to ask for a position with them. There would be more protesters with their signs tomorrow, he was sure of it, but as long as they didn’t cause too much trouble he didn’t much care.

Author's Note

Well this is going to be the result of an cluttered unorganized outline I've been puttering over for maybe the last two months. I wanted to write a fic delving into the day to day of everybody's favorite "eview buwwy!"

So let's see how this goes.