Arcane Shadow (Re-Written)

The last bit of training before the day concluded came around, and Spitfire nodded to herself as she watched the troops gather. She turned to Anna and asked, "So, that… horny pony… demon thing," she said, trying not to sound awkward. "You said she came to you last night, in a dream?"

Anna nodded. "Yeah, and then there was a miscommunication, and we wound up fighting. I won, despite having a disadvantage," she answered with a shrug. "Afterwards, she told me that Godcat finished her up, sent her my way to be merged with me, and called herself 'Annabelle,' before trying to cop a feel. And then I woke up, and found her in the waking world, touching me." Anna shuddered. "Took me five minutes for my half-asleep brain to figure out how to give the mental command to stop, and pull a tactical retreat. I swear, Annabelle blew me a raspberry once she was told to lay off."

"And I assume she's been telepathically pestering you since," Spitfire guessed, to which Anna nodded.

"Not only is she… horny, but she's really, really violent," Anna added, shuddering again. "Like… 'she wants to hang up the now-undead ponies of Redpine on her wall as trophies' levels of violent, as well as stuffing them to make them look extremely lifelike."

Lance's shadow contorted, repositioned, and attached a manacle to his hoof before his homunculus surfaced himself up from it. The thing… was half alicorn, half machine, with mechanical wings, a triad of suspect mechanical horns, and mechanical claws on front and hind hooves and all were adorned with magitek crystals. He was with maroon fur and a mixture of oily black hair and misplaced scarlet wires for a mane and tail. Weirdly, and Spitfire had to take a few seconds to notice this because of the homunculus' wing size and the way he was positioned, she found that he was in a chastity cage.

Lance turned to his homunculus and bapped him upside the head with a hoof, shaking his head firmly. "No, you do not get to romance the new homunculus," he growled, causing his homunculus to shrink back ever so slightly into his shadow. "Besides, I think you're the cheesiest bastard there is, when it comes to horrible pick-up lines. You couldn't swoon a tortoise steak off of my flank, much less a burned one off of Natalia, and you have a snowball's chance in hell of doing likewise for the new girl."

"B-but I could optimize her desires, turn her lust into resources, and—" That was met with a hoof being jammed between mechanical teeth.

"No," Lance growled, sclera turning black as he glared damningly at his homunculus. "Go back to the pits of my soul, and stay there." The homunculus wilted like a scalded puppy, and did as he was told without delay. "Fucker's worse than I am…" he grumbled, turning back to Spitfire with a rather heated expression that softened as soon as he made eye contact. He blinked, and his sclera turned back to their standard pearly white.

"Daddy, am I allowed to talk to the robot-looking thing?" Maria asked.

Lance turned to her and shook his head. "No. He's a weird pony, and I don't want you hanging around him," he said bluntly. "Nor do I want you hanging around the other weirdo with the spade tail; she might try to do bad things."

Maria nodded. "Can I kick the robot-looking thing if he tries the bad things?" she asked.

Lance shook his head. "You'd hurt your hoof doing that; he has metal protecting his squishy bits," he answered. "Found that out the hard way myself…" he grumbled to nobody in particular. "I'd suggest aiming for the face, as long as it's not the teeth or the horn," he added.

"Okay," Maria said with a nod.

"So… what prompted the homunculi to awaken?" Soarin asked.

Lance turned to him and frowned. "Well, Lancelot said that Godcat being summoned the other day roused him from slumber, so he's been keeping tabs on everything since," he answered with a sigh. "Matteus and Natalia might have the same excuse."

Spitfire nodded. It would make sense for the homunculi to be up and about in limited capacity, then, if Godcat showed up. "Are they going to go back to sleep?" she asked.

Lance shook his head. "Probably not, because now that they're awake, they're going to sift through our memories—part of fusing with us and all—and get caught up information-wise before doing so. In the meantime, expect… questionable advice from them if they do emerge from our shadows," he answered. "He's probably going to react… poorly… to the news of my adopted filly and kid sister."

Spitfire frowned. "Not too fond of children, I take it?" she asked.

Lance shook his head again, his own frown deepening. "Lancelot considers them worse than pawns—at best, expendable," he answered bluntly. "The good thing about having him as a sapient alter ego, though, is that I can overrule him anytime I want. And if he needs further persuasion, I can apply percussive maintenance at my leisure."

Then his ears fell flat against his head. "And there it is… he's cussing now," Lance grumbled, eyes darkening by the tiniest noticeable margin. "Looks like he might need that percussive maintenance before bed after all…"

Natalie's ears, likewise, pinned back. "Natalia is squealing now… she's stomping her hooves…" she reported uncomfortably.

Anna's ears also pinned back. Then her head dropped to her shoulders. "... do I even want to repeat what Annabelle's saying?" she muttered, refusing to look anybody in the eye. She turned to Lance and added, "And also, she was looking forward to being hit on by your pet mechanical abomination…"

Lance's wings sagged, threatening to hit the steel ring he stood upon. "Are you serious…" he grumbled. At Anna's slow, hesitant nod, his wings snapped open and fell upon the steel ring. "Fantastic…" he grumbled. "Makes me not wonder what Matteus is saying at the moment…"

Spitfire sighed, and readied the megaphone before the homunculi could continue with their internal hissyfit. Soarin decided to ask Lance a question before Spitfire could make an order. "So, um… your whites." He gestured at his own eyes for emphasis. "Is that manifesting an aspect of your homunculus whenever you do that?"

Lance nodded. "Natalie and Matt can do the same thing," he answered, before turning to regard Anna. "And she might, now that she has her own pet homunculus to deal with. Before that, it was the curse trying to take over."

"Ah yeah, the Greenwood Blight…" Spitfire muttered, before lifting the megaphone to try again. "Now then, for this next exercise, we're going to need something a little—" A plaid and lightning portal opened up behind her, and promptly transplanted the Dizzitron, wires and all, upon the steel ring, albeit taking care to position the levers on the ring so the whole thing wouldn't fall off. "—special…" she finished weakly.

The portal closed up, and Spitfire lowered the megaphone to sigh into the air without translating it through said megaphone. She raised it again, after nudging Soarin to attend to the levers. "Now, I know: this isn't a part of weather training. But weather incorporates flight, and sometimes you just need to improvise on the wing… or the horn. And sometimes, you'll also need to push yourself to your limits, because spinouts can and will happen if you're not careful. Seeing as Redpine has an air force, they will do all they can for force spinouts to occur." Soarin turned the Dizzitron on, and it gave a steamy hiss as it activated, but did not spin its gears just yet.

"So, we'll need to test to see how fast you guys can fly straight, and then recover from spinouts, and how you guys improvise in the face of aerial adversity. You might want goggles for this," Spitfire warned, unwilling to question why Discord dragged the Dizzitron over, but also unwilling to rule out its use entirely. Anna lit her horn, summoned a pair of goggles, and enveloped it in light before it split into two lights and resolved into two whole sets of goggles.

"Duplication… interesting…" Spitfire noted, and watched as Anna proceeded to use her duplication spell to arm the entirety of the training regiment with safety gear. She and Natalie took further cues once everyone had goggles, and tied up their long manes into tight buns, though not before Anna let her hair down first in order to reconfigure it for the job. Katie, meanwhile, was tightening the straps of her goggles upon her head, making extra-certain that they were secure first. Spitfire looked at her and sighed. "You might be too frail for the Dizzitron, but just this once, I'll let you aboard it anyway…"

Maria grinned, and pronked in place even as she made sure her goggles were secure as well. "I get to ride the big spinny?!" she chirped in delight.

Spitfire sighed. She nodded to Misty Fly and nudged her in Maria's direction. Misty Fly took the cue without any need for a verbal command, and Thunderlane was sent in Katie's direction; better to take some caution with those two, than have any serious accidents happen. "Lance, you're first," she said.

Lance sighed, finished adjusting his goggles, and took a few moments to get into the air. He positioned himself on the larger gear, making sure to anchor his hooves to the massive railing that had been welded to it. It took him another moment to fit his wings in comfortably. Spitfire turned to Soarin. "Keep the settings for him low; we don't want him to spin out too badly," she said, even as Anna conjured a pocket watch and put it in her hoof. Spitfire saw the pocket watch, and sat on her haunches to motion it over to her own hooves, which levitated in her direction without delay.

Spitfire noticed the make and model of the pocket watch, unlike any she had seen before in Equestria. For the multiples of three, they were replaced with pictures of winged felines, and the pocket watch itself was magitek, with crystals for hands. Even the knob that would let her activate it was crystal, polished to a shining sheen. She made a mental note to not lose this watch, and was thankful it came with a simple cloth strap that she anchored around her neck for safekeeping. Another item was conjured for her and went into her hoof thanks to Anna, a clipboard adorned with a quill, and multiple papers containing the names of the participants of the exercise.

At her hooves was an ink well, and next to the names were labeled timesheets that were blank. This would do very nicely. She turned to the Dizzitron. "Activate," she said firmly, turning on the pocket watch with a deft flick of her hoof.

The Dizzitron was activated with a pull of the red lever, and started the pirouette of pain and sickness. Lance held on firmly, spinning slowly, though soon the wind began battering at his face and knocking his mane back, revealing the broken stub of his horn for all to see. The wind also tried flattening the skin on his face, and caused his chest feathers to fluff out as he revolved on the gear.

He went around a few times, before the Dizzitron was at max speed for its lowest settings. "Release!" Spitfire ordered, and Soarin pulled the red lever back to force the Dizzitron to halt, catapulting Lance into the sky at an angle with the momentum. Lance spun with the launch, and after five seconds spread his wings to flap repeatedly in order to stop the spinning. He flew back to the steel ring, and had to land at a gallop just to slow his momentum further. At least his landing was relatively smooth, compared to what Spitfire was expecting of him.

Spitfire turned off the pocket watch once Lance came to a full halt. She glanced at it. "... twenty-one seconds," she reported. "Okay, nothing to write home about, but I'll let it slide because of your wings." Her eyes zeroed in on Natalie. "Your turn," she said firmly.

Natalie sighed, secured the goggles, and levitated for her turn. Her wings ruffled uncomfortably. "Do I have to use my wings for this?" she asked.

"Considering they're worthless for flight, you… can, but only to slow yourself down if you have to," Spitfire answered. "I wouldn't rely on them too much." She turned to Soarin. "Slow for her as well—we don't want her so dizzy as to misfire any spells."

"Activate." With that command, the Dizzitron began another revolution, though a problem became immediately apparent as soon as it made one go-around. Natalie was trailing feathers everywhere; by the time the second revolution finished, there was a mess of them at the Dizzitron's feet. It seemed her wings would be more impractical for this than Spitfire thought, if she went without preening for who knows how long. Either that, or something else had gone wrong with her wings for them to be shedding feathers like this—genetics? Wounds? Inexperience in preening? Magical misfires of moderate ministrations?

She couldn't be sure, nor could she be sure of what had gone wrong when the neurons had their growth spurt to account for the wings emerging onto Fantasia, but she did know a pony who hadn't flapped a day in her life when she saw one—not so much as one daily wing exercise to prevent this very scenario. Not even the prospective cadets for the Wonderbolts would do this—and putting that with the whole weather training exercise pointed to one conclusion and one conclusion alone. This was a mare who had not, absolutely had not taken a single flying course a day in her life until today, and given the useless state of her wings, maybe the timing for such was just a few years too late.

Once more, she waited for the Dizzitron to be at max speed for the lowest settings. "Release!" As with Lance, Natalie had been launched into the air, tumbling in the open blue for three seconds before flashing her horn to stop herself cold. She made a wobbly return to the steel ring, eyes spinning and legs crossing over each other as she returned to the formation, her horn sparking fitfully before she collapsed on the ring.

Spitfire checked the pocket watch. "... seventeen-point-five seconds. I'll let it slide, but it's clear you're not cut out for flying," she said, keeping her voice neutral in case Natalie had heard her through the world spinning. She turned to Anna, and nodded in her direction. The Lieutenant teleported over to the gear, gripped the railing, and sighed.

Without needing another word, Soarin pulled the red lever again, and watched the timberpony go round and round. Spitfire noticed another irregularity: the vines were flailing in the wind. Sure, they would snap off if grabbed, and some were doing so for the lowest settings of the Dizzitron, but they were anchored to wood that, itself, was anchored to flesh. If a lava wraith wanted to get grabby, and get in some good third-degree burns while doing so, then Anna was practically a grab-rich environment—a trip to the medical wing waiting to happen. A fire hazard if she ever saw one.

Spitfire also made mental notes to account for teleportation, just in case things got sloppy. And they very likely would get sloppy, very shortly. She didn't need to make a command once the Dizzitron hit maximum speed; Soarin jerked the lever, and Anna went sailing into the air. Seven seconds—seven full seconds before she lit her horn, stopped herself cold, and teleported back onto the ring and collapsed with a sparking horn.

"Seven-point-five seconds… if I were training a standard Wonderbolts cadet, I'd say that teleporting is cheating… but since I'm not, I'll let it slide," Spitfire said, shaking her head. Another mare who hadn't flown a day in her life… then again, given the scars on her back, she likely didn't have much of a chance to do so either. She turned to Sarah, and nodded. "Let's see if you can handle spinouts better than your sister."

Sarah nodded, and flew over. She noted that, while she had been noting times and such, Sarah took the time to bunch her hair up into a bun. It seemed someone had snuck in a hair band to keep everything steady, and she hoped it would hold out for her turn. "You sure you got a good grip with your claws?" Spitfire asked. "Because your knuckles are looking a little white."

"I'm good," Sarah replied. "Just… trying to get a good grip angle on this thing."

"Well, given the railing's size, you'd need pretty big claws for the effort. If you have to, add some leverage with your hind legs," Spitfire advised, before nodding in Soarin's direction. The Dizzitron turned on, and unlike the other three, Sarah had no problems whatsoever—not a wing feather fluttering free from her wings, or anything like that. It seemed this one flew on the regular, when conditions permitted her to do so. At least the General and his Lieutenants had decent excuses for their relatively poor response times to spinouts—damaged wings was no laughing matter in the end. Or absurdly large wings that would require extra effort to flap, for that matter.

In fact, as soon as she was sent careening, Sarah twirled in the air for two seconds, spun in a single loop, and came in for a smooth landing on her hind legs. She smirked once she reverted to all fours. "I've had a harder time carrying goods while spinning out," she chirped, strutting back to the formation with confidence.

Spitfire checked the time. "... holy horseapples," she muttered. "Five seconds—the best time yet, and you're not even a Lieutenant-General." Well, at least she had found one with a decent amount of practice, all things considered. If Sarah were a prospective Wonderbolts cadet, she'd have been lead pony material. Not only that, but this would have been an academy record back home. She turned to Sarah. "How often do you fly?"

"Once on the daily, unless I am on an airship or equivalent, or if my wing is broken," Sarah answered with a shrug. "Been doing that, ever since I hightailed it out of Greenwood. Kinda had to, since most things that wanted to eat my face off were on the ground."

"It seems your sister could take some flying lessons from you. Just make sure she doesn't lose her lunch tonight," Spitfire said, before turning to Lazarus. He levitated over, and gripped the railing tightly. "Can you teleport?" she asked, only to garner a quick nod for an answer. Spitfire turned to Thunderlane for a moment. "Catch him if he can't recover in time," she ordered, and Thunderlane took to the air to respond at a moment's notice.

Once everything was set up, another revolution began. Like Sarah, Lazarus had virtually no problems whatsoever… but that was probably because of his lack of wings to present such indicators. Spitfire noticed, after a few revolutions, he didn't turn green in the face or start dry heaving. Had he, perhaps, self-levitated on the regular? Then again, his bird-and-spear mark probably pointed to a talent that might have been underdeveloped, if only because the mark itself seemed confusing on the superficial surface.

In fact, he had little to worry about, once he was sent sailing. He spun for three seconds, stopped himself cold, and as soon as he was stable in the air, he teleported over and plonked his butt down to wipe the small gathering of sweat off his brow. Thunderlane didn't even need to move from his post, even as Spitfire checked the time. "Seven-point-five seconds. Tell me, is this a regular occurrence for you?" she asked.

Lazarus nodded. "Though, I do the spinouts myself, more than they are forced onto me. You can get really creative with a spear, and how to stab ponies with it," he answered with a shrug.

Spitfire nodded, willing to buy the explanation. She paused to dip the quill into the inkwell, and note the times she had committed to memory so far. There was some promise with this military, but it seemed it needed a bit of coaxing to come out of the top brass. A part of her wanted to include Matt in on this, but someone had to be on map-sitting duty to keep an eye on Redpine in case its air force got creative somehow. That, and he was a mobile mass of darkness when he wished to be, so that might have counted as cheating.

Spitfire jotted down the times, put the quill back in the little rest the clipboard provided for it, and turned. She sighed, figuring there would be no getting out of this. "Alright, stick bug—let's see what you've got," she said. Katie flew up and snuggled into the rail, before extending her tongue and wrapping it around the rail several times. She pulled her tongue taut, and nodded before using a bit of slack from the extra length to bring a portion of the organ to her horn, which she stabbed into it to freeze it somewhat solid in order to anchor it to the railing better, if a little flexible all the same.

Interesting. Then again, Spitfire supposed the wraithling would have had to get creative just to use the Dizzitron at all. "You secure?" she asked, garnering a nod. She turned to Soarin. "Don't shred her wings too badly; launch her at half speed." Soarin nodded, and pulled the lever. Around and around the device span, and when it was at half speed, it was halted to launch her into the air. Curiously, Katie went off the railing with no issue; her tongue flew behind her, trailing ice and slobber as she went twirling into the air at speeds that would have been excruciating for a regular, still-living, emaciated pony.

Four wings snapped open, buzzed frantically, but managed to stabilize their owner after about six seconds, and Katie returned without her orbs spinning in her sockets. It took her a few extra seconds to retract her tongue, which had gotten tangled on a front leg and a back leg, but there was no issue to be had with the half-frozen organ. "Eh, had worse spinouts when my unlife began," she said with a shrug.

Spitfire noted the times, and the comment. "Thirteen seconds. If you had more meat on your bones, I'd have tried you at full speed. As it stands, it's passable," she said. She turned to Maria, and then to Misty Fly with a frown and some reluctance and discomfort shining in her eyes. "Truth be told, I'm not comfortable launching a kid off of the Dizzitron, but seeing as I've just done that with a wraith, I might not have much choice…"

Misty Fly gave a salute. "I'll ensure her safety, ma'am," she responded. Maria grinned and got airborne, her flight wobbly as she got herself situated into the railing. Misty Fly flew up as well, and snuggled into the railing alongside her. She ruffled Maria's mane with a hoof. "Just in case you can't land on your own, kiddo," she chirped.

Maria grinned, wings ruffling. "The big spinny will be fun!" she cheered, eyes sparkling.

Spitfire sighed. At least someone was having a blast with this. "Half speed," she said to Soarin. Soarin frowned, looking as uncomfortable about this as his Captain, but he didn't have the heart to disobey the command. He turned the Dizzitron on, watched until it was half speed, and halted it when it hit that critical sweet spot. Maria and Misty Fly went into the air, Maria tumbling helplessly for a bit before she remembered her wings and flapped to save her life. Misty Fly recovered quickly, and turned midair to ensure the child's safety. Fortunately, the foal was able to stop her pirouetting before dizziness could knock the wind from her wings.

It took a fair few seconds for the filly to remember how to make it back to the steel ring afterwards, and her flight trail was less than graceful. Misty Fly shadowed her wingbeats the whole way, making sure not to overpower her as she gradually made it back to the formation. Maria's flight dipped a little when she got to the edge of the steel ring afterwards, but she put extra power into her flaps to make it back safely. Misty Fly landed next to her, checking her over. "You okay?" she asked.

Maria nodded, despite wobbling because the world was spinning. "That was awesome! I wanna do it again!" she chirped.

"Maybe when you're older, and stronger," Misty Fly advised, holding Maria steady with a wing to escort her back into formation. She lead Maria to Lance, and sat down next to her to keep an eye on her.

Spitfire smiled, relieved that things had gone well despite her reservations. She noted the time. "Thirty seconds. Given you've only learned how to fly recently, and that you're a kid, I'll let it pass," she said. "You might wanna sit the rest of the exercise out, to get your claws steady again." She wrote the times down, and turned to the next soldier on the list. "I'm looking for a gryphon named Jeremy… where is he?"

Jeremy flew up, and got himself secured in. He grinned, tail swishing eagerly. "You good?" Spitfire asked.

"As good as I'll get!" Jeremy reported, giving a thumbs up. Spitfire nodded, and watched him go around and around. She had a feeling the rest of the night would be spent doing this, just to see how well the soldiers would respond to spinouts if push came to shove. She also had a feeling it would be worth it in the end, if only to prepare the military for these kinds of scenarios so that they would be able to form accurate responses to them on their own.

And yet… as the exercise dragged on, she had a niggling feeling in her gut, one that reminded her that the coming war with Redpine would not be a battle fought so easily, much less won without some form of casualty on either side. She took it as well as she documented the times; wraiths would be tricky beasts to slay after all, especially if they had reasons to cling to the realm of the living—Katie was proof enough of that.

It was good that her gut was providing her with clues to the wrongness about this whole thing—because if it hadn't, then surprises might have come unbidden, when it was too late to act on them. It was a sign her body was functioning as it should, and that her mind was as sharp as it had ever been. Anything less in this unorthodox situation simply would not have done otherwise, much less received any sort of pass from Princess Celestia if she ever heard about this.

Still… she was worried all the same. And she was concerned that her worries would not be so easily absolved at the end of this kerfuffle.