At five in the morning, the world was calm. The birds were waking, the sun had yet to rise, and in a room, rising high above the city skyline, twelve pegasi lay where only eleven were sleeping.
One laid wide awake, eyes open and staring out through the window into the fading night sky. She did not sigh or tire, she just waited. She waited for her fate to be decided.
Most days, the night's moon would give way to a sunny fate, and damn her to another day of parade and show. She would rise, flex her cyan wings, and fly before the mass of strange faces and names to which she had become accustomed. She would jump through her hoops, bring the crowd to torrential applause, and come back only to take off the uniform, sleep, and begin again.
Sometimes, though, things would be different. Just once out of every thousand times, the sun wouldn't rise. Sometimes, the clouds would commandeer the light’s hours, and steal the day away for themselves. And just sometimes, when things were just right, it would rain.
It wouldn't matter how well planned the event was, or how on guard the weather ponies were. Sometimes, despite all the odds, it would happen.
Dash never was very good at waiting. Making as little noise as possible, she reached her hooves under her bed until she grabbed hold of her sole possession. A book. It was the last book in a series Twilight had recommended to her.
The Tales of Mrs. Potter. Dash had never much fancied the fantasy genre, but when they finally found her copies of Daring Do, Mrs. Potter was all she had left.
Dash never understood why Twilight gave her the last book. Without whatever story there was before, the characters finer points eluded her. Motivations were sketchy at best, characters were unhappy for reasons that never disclosed within the book, and she missed the context for all the moments which were clearly supposed to have some deeper meaning that.
Despite this, though, Dash always knew why Twilight picked the series for her, and it burned her every thought. Every time Elizabeth Potter chose the right path, made the right call, or took the right side, it was a stab at Dash. Each action was an insight that cut just a little too deep, and a sarcastic twist of fate had left it as her only book. Sometimes she wondered if Twilight knew this would happen.
It’s funny. Of all her friends, Dash remembered the most about Twilight, and even that wasn’t much. For instance, she could not recall the words that Twilight spoke, only the fact Twilight did not want her to leave. Despite her best efforts, she could never recollect what color Twilight’s eyes were, but she could find a thousand words to describe the silent roar of the burning emotion behind them when Twilight watched her leave. Those two scorching suns, fading off into the distance of time and memory.
Dash shut the book and hid it. She felt the morning getting ready to begin. Any minute, the moon would be pushed off of the horizon, and her 24 hour fate would become clear. She closed her eyes and hoped. She had hoped many days before, but today was different.
This was the Ponyville show. After so many years, she would be back, and all she wanted was to see her friends. For how long she had waited to come back, and all the rainless days spent under the sun’s ardent rays, she figured she deserved at least one break. And so she waited.
It had to rain today. She knew that the forecasts said otherwise, and that every town always made double sure to have clear skies on the days of Wonderbolt airshows, but there was something inside Dash that said otherwise. She liked to think of it as an instinct, ingrained within her from years of service on the weather patrol, that could tell more than any instrument or magic. A sort of deeper understanding that came from more than just knowledge.
A second of silence. And again, silence. She started to open her eyes before she heard something. A single sound, a pin drop in a silent room. The kind of sound you hear, and a minute after begin to question if you had actually heard anything at all.
And she heard it again. A tap on the window. A splash, a drop, and another. And another. Another. And a symphony of sound. A thousand droplets ringing out in protest against the glass.
Dash opened her eyes, and walked to the window. It was real. After her, eleven other ponies began to wake at the sound.
"Heh, well whaddya know?" Spitfire said, trotting up alongside Dash.
For the first time in a long time, Dash smiled.
In the background, Soarin jumped on top of a table. "Breakfast is on me! Looks like we're having the good food today!" He said, rousing cheers of approval from all the room's stallions.
Just as Soarin was about to lead his band of merry men to a calorie-laden morning meal, the door opened, and through it stepped the crusher of dreams. This particular bean counter was a unicorn, or, more specifically, Jane Olivewood, Head of the Royal Court's Public Relations Committee and personal sponsor/owner of the Wonderbolts and all its subsidiaries as she liked to be called (Dash had a few other, less couth, titles associated with the mare.)
"Good news everypony! We have a secondary gig in Merrymoore! The town hasn't been hit by the storm, so go get your stuff!" She finished.
A collective sigh came from the excited breakfast-goers. "Sorry guys. Maybe next time." Soarin mused before falling in line to get dressed.
"Hey," Dash said to Jane, stepping off to the side, "could I talk to you for a second?"
"Of course. Let's step outside." She held the door open for Dash, following her through to the other side before shutting it again.
"Listen," Dash started, "you know how much I was hoping for this. Everyone does. I'm not buying for a second you just happened to have a second gig. We've never had a backup gig for any of our other gigs that got rained out."
"Whatever do you mean?" Jane continued, doing her best angel impression.
"I'm not stupid. This was done purposely. I deserve to be able to go and see my friends. You can't jus.." Dash was cut off as Jane slapped her.
"Now you listen. Your loyalty, your friendship, your very being belongs to this team. Nothing else. You fly, therefore you are, and that's all you are. You are a Wonderbolt. I own the Wonderbolts. That means I sign your seven-figure paycheck.
"I give this team its name, its reputation. We don't keep this reputation by mixing with old friends and normal ponies, we keep it by keeping to ourselves. So try and keep all that info in your pretty little head when you tell me what to do." Olivewood finished with a shining smile.
Dash ground her teeth. Every ounce of her being told her to deck that mare into a state of unconsciousness and then some. The worst part was that Dash knew she was right. It was the same thing that made the Wonderbolts so appealing to her: that air of untouchability. The fleeting shadow of glory you’d always chase, each time coming up short.
“Now get back with the team, and get ready.” Jane ordered her.
In the end, Dash resigned with a grumbling sigh, re-entering the room and joining in with the others to ready herself for another performance in another sunny town, far away from her rainy haven.
Merrymoore was a novel little town, and reminded Dash of Ponyville before it grew to its present size. The resemblance was uncanny. The one-teacher school, the sole train station, the small town-hall. Even the ponies there reminded her of Ponyville.
She spotted the familiar group of cutie-markless fillies, the group of six tight friends, the grounded, the sophisticated, the educated, the shy, the silly, and herself. A young pegasus mare, eyes hungry for the world's challenge and the flyer's game. It was all too eerie, and it was already time. The entire town had gathered in the small stadium, prepared to be shocked and awed.
As her other teammates prepared themselves physically, Dash got her mind ready. It wasn't much to prepare for: only two states. Each of her team members took off into the sky, applause following their every entrance and loop. It wasn't long before it was her. Already running off, taking off, lifting off, off into sky blue sea of thunderous applause.
And there was the first state. The rush of the wind, the air, the excitement to fly, the chance to hear the screams of a hundred ponies. Each flap of her wings executed with unmatched precision, flips, rolls, banking turns. Each of her team members did the same thing, but she did it best, and the audience knew. They always clapped the loudest for her, cheered the most for her, gave their all for her.
And then comes the second state. She realizes. She realizes they aren't cheering for her, or with her, they're cheering at her. These ponies don't even know who she is, and they mindlessly throw their fervent love and burning passion into every scream of excitement. Each and every face of every pony burns her with their misguided love, and she hates it. How any of these ponies are more than willing to scream to her, to bear to her their very soul and emotion. Every twist and turn elicits a roar of applause, an animal sound. Their civilized air, their strong wills, their control. All of it they throw away like fools, for a fool.
And then she sees her own face. That pegasus, her hungry eyes filled in, screaming like the rest. And a third state. Beyond anger, beyond passion. Clarity. Her mirror self, reflected in a watery pool of a time long past, looking right into her eyes. Her eyes. And she can't do it. She can't bring herself to another damning flap of her wings, another burning spectacle.
Dash broke from formation, spotting Jane on the field below, and began to dive straight at her. It took a second, but Jane saw what was happening, and ran off in full gallop trying to escape. It didn't matter. Dash's speed closed any gap, and only at the last second did she pull up, mere feet above Jane.
The force of her flight and course change created a rainbow shockwave, throwing Jane hundreds of feet before smashing into the bleachers. The only thing louder was the applause, fading to nothing as Dash headed off to the rain, off to the storm, off towards the Ponyville bar.
If she was going to throw this life away, she was bent on pissing Jane off while doing it.
Dash had never been into Ponyville’s bar before, but she had been in enough bars to know how it would go. She would walk in, and order something. Soon after, a couple of colts would make some snarky remarks, she would snark back, get in a fight, kick their sorry flanks, and walk away like nothing happened. In most cases, she would go through the pomp and circumstance of believing that she might actually have a peaceful drink. Not today though. She was coming in for one reason, and one reason only: to get in a fight.
“What do you want?” The bartender asked as Dash took a seat, somewhat surprised to see a celebrity.
“Take your pick, keep. Something strong and expensive, so it will piss off my handler when she gets here.”
“Alright. I can think of something.” He nodded, heading over to the wall and pulling down a pricey looking bottle of scotch. Behind her, a few wisecolts started the obligatory hooting.
“Hey! You! You’re that famous girl from outta town, right? That Wonderbolt? Hey, my buddy wants to know if you’re really the fastest in Equestria, and he isn’t talking about flying!”
“Boy, never heard that one before.” Dash said, taking a sip of her spirits, imagining how many of Jane’s bits she was drinking down.
“Yeah, he says he thinks you have a real hot flank too. And I have to agree.”
Wow. Didn’t drunkards used to be more clever? Dash thought to herself. It doesn’t matter. I’m just here to get in a fight and piss Jane off...
“Oh, go buck yourselves.” Their cackling stopped as Dash spoke.
“What did you say?” He asked.
Dash smiled; she had been waiting to use this one. “I was giving you some advice. It’s plain to see you’re hard up. I suggest you either buck yourself, or go to a more poorly lit bar.”
The colt’s buddies broke out into laughter as he fumed. This wasn’t quite the way Dash wanted it to go, but she saw an opportunity.
“Actually, I take that back. Your flock of seagulls mane buddy might be willing to. I mean dear Celestia, did the eighties forget to take their manecut with them?” The laughter died away.
“What did you say?” He asked, he and his buddies rising up from their seats. Off in the background, some ponies began to quietly leave the bar or hide themselves away while others got themselves ready to fight. Behind Dash, the barkeep spoke up.
“Now don’t you start any trouble here.” Dash turned to look at the barkeep. Her hoof took the cup of scotch, and Dash stole a sip before setting the cup back down. The barkeeper saw the look in her eyes, and shrank out of the picture. Dash turned back to her future aggressors, and stood.
“You heard me. I’d spell it out for you if I didn’t think you weren’t illiterate.” She saw him start to swell with rage. It wouldn’t be long now; all she needed to do was make a crack about his momma.
“Did you hear me, or do I have to go roll your momma’s fat flank outta bed and get her to explain it for you.”
Just as it seemed the fight was imminent, the bar’s doors flew open. In stepped the Icequeen herself, Lord Jane Olivewood of Pretentia. Today, however, her standard air of arrogance had been replaced by anger. A seething anger that seemed to flow from her very being, intensified by the various cuts and bruises she had sustained during her unfortunate run-in with a stadium.
In her hand was a very familiar book. “Forget something?” She asked, turning all the bar’s eyes over to her. Behind her, the other Wonderbolts watched, waiting to see what would transpire between them. Behind the counter, the bartender could be seen taking a large swig of his stock.
“I don’t think you heard me,” Jane started again, “did you forget something?” This time, however, Dash shot back.
“Yes I have.”
“I bet you think that little stunt of yours was pretty funny, huh? Well let me remind you!” She screamed, throwing the book against the wall with a burst of magic. “I have given you your name, your reputation! Hun, I sign your seven figure paycheck!”
“Well you know what? I would tell you to take my name, reputation, seven figure paycheck, and shove it in a certain place, but I believe it is currently occupado by your head. So I’ll save you the trouble and quit.”
"Oh, you think you can quit now? Well I've got news honey: you're a Wonderbolt. That contract you signed is the closest thing to legalized slavery on the planet. Wonderbolts don't quit."
"Well this one does. I quit."
"I don't think you understand. Every breath you take, every flap of your wings, everything you do: I own. You do it all for me. Not a single Pony on this planet can do a thing about it. You exist for no reason other than the fact that I let you. You are mine."
That did it for Dash. Ten years of pent up energy were prepared as she raised her hoof for a single swing. A single swing. For every lost second. For every forgotten friend. For every day she spent convincing herself misery was paradise. Her hoof shot into Jane's shining face, and sent her to the ground. Dash smiled.
“Wow, she was a real piece of work.” Seagulls said, looking down at her.
Dash just turned back to her glass of scotch, and finished it off.
Spitfire looked at her with quizzical eyes. Dash met her gaze and spoke. "So what now? Are you guys going to arrest me or detain me or something?"
Spitfire looked at Dash, then at Jane, then at Dash again. "Naw, but you can bet your flank all of Canterlot will be trying to when Jane wakes up."
"Are you going to come with me?"
"Well, I don't know about the rest of the team, but I'm not. This is where I've always been. It's where I belong. We've been here for so long, Dash. I don't know if we're ready to go back." The other team members nodded.
"So it's Rainbow Dash against the world, then?" Dash said.
"The world doesn't stand a chance. Go get 'em kid." With an earnest smile, Spitfire waved her on. And for all the years of change and continuity, Dash could look into Spitfire's eyes, and see the same mare she had adored as a child.
Before Dash left, she reached into Jane’s saddlebag and pulled out a checkbook. Dash had gotten in a few bar fights before, and after having to write a few too many checks, Jane decided to just sign the first few checks in advance. Dash pulled two out, tucking one away for herself, and handing the other blank check to the bartender.
“Ladies, gentlecolts, drinks are on me for the rest of the day!” Dash declared, raising a chorus of cheers from the patrons. She handed the rest of the checkbook to Soarin, advising him to go have a big breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the most expensive restaurants he could find.
With a final goodbye, Dash nodded to her former Wonderbolts, and took off with her sole possession in hand.
At noon, the world was in turmoil. Jane was waking, the book was gone, and in the sky, rising high above the sea of storm clouds below, one pegasus flew back to where her five friends had always been.