Those Who Sport With Giants

Chapters

Announcement
Tryouts
Practice
After Practice
Setting the Stage
The First Half
Halftime
The Second Half, pt. 1
Epilogue
The Second Half, pt. 2

Announcement

HOME: 0
VISITOR: 3

Fleetfoot and Soarin’ hoofbumped coming off the pitch, and away from the deafeningly quiet stands towards the visitor locker room. Spitfire, merrily laughing, caught up with them, hugging them both in her wings for a moment before the three continued with forehooves around each other’s shoulders. Spitfire and Soarin’ both wore a white sports jersey with a yellow star on it, a red border on the star’s perimeter, and two very thin red horizontal stripes. Fleetfoot’s was of the same design, but was of black cloth instead of white. Out on the cloud layer were nine dejected pegasi, each in a powder blue jersey…and two alicorns, one white and the other dark blue, also showing a similar emotional state, the darker-colored wearing safety green. Others followed them into the locker room, wearing the same-colored jerseys as Spitfire, who was snickering, “That was great! I love shutting them out in their own place!”

Fleetfoot chortled, “Yes, I’m particularly fond of it myself, that ultimately being my job and all.”

Soarin’ chuckled, “That was good. I could really go for some apple pie. Or carrot cake. Hell, just bring on the food!”

The three highest-ranking Wonderbolts laughed together again. Spitfire’s smile faded slightly. “Well, I guess it’s back to the usual Monday-to-Friday grind.”

“Not yet. One remains.”

An older, blue-eyed, bearded, palomino pegasus stallion came up to them. Soarin’ gave this other stallion a quizzical look. “Are you sure? Who’s left that we forgot?”

A slight grin passed over the face of the aging athlete, his voice direct, with a growing grimness and hunger to his words as he turned towards his locker. “Ponyville. One last princess. Then nopony can say they are our better. Nopony.”

“Whoa, what!!?!”

Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, OHMIGOSH...!!

Rainbow Dash’s shout, and subsequent fangirl scream, turned every head in earshot. Many hesitantly walked over as the powder-blue pegasus loudly squealed with ecstatic prancing in place. Most turned to each other perplexed, uncertain how the town bulletin board warranted such an outburst. Few did more than give it a brief look every once in awhile, and Dash was no exception.

A hooffull in the crowd shrugged as a pastel yellow and pink pegasus sidled up beside the giddy, giggling center of attention. “Um, Rainbow Dash, if you wouldn’t mind, would you please explain why you’re so excited?”

Dash scooped up Fluttershy with a laugh, while her friend squeaked startled. “Do you see that Fluttershy! It’s totally awesome!!”

“Uh, could you please put me down?” pleaded Fluttershy, trembling.

Rainbow Dash continued on obliviously. “Cloudsdale wants to play us in stormball! How amazing is that!?”

A smattering of murmurs prevented a stunned silence, many taking to their own baffled mannerisms, and most of the rest, including every unicorn and earth pony in the crowd, simply walking away. Most of the pegasi pressed in closer. Fluttershy’s eyes darted side-to-side as she murmured, “It’s...nice.”

Rainbow Dash returned her timid friend to the ground as she continued her euphoric squeal. “Nice?! It’s way more than nice! It’s so awesome!!”

“Sorry, Dash, but I’ve never exactly, um, liked sports all that much. But it’s okay if you like them.”

Not even stormball...? Come ON, Flutters....

Rainbow Dash gawked at her incredulously, slowly shaking her head, as she spoke in matching tones. “Are you kidding!? Stormball’s only the most awesome sport there ever was!”

Fluttershy blinked for a few seconds and pursed her lips before saying with a hard swallow, “Um, I think you could use a thesaurus.”

“No, what I could use is some practice!” Dash turned to the remaining pegasi. “We all could use some practice! Gather every good flier we have that wants to play! We’ll start tryouts in one hour; everypony should have clocked out by then. And Blossomforth, see if your grandpa still has one more game left in him to coach.”

The talcum-furred, amethyst-and-peridot-maned pegasus mare saluted, then quickly flew away. Many of the other pegasi took off excited and inspired. Some wandered off unenthused and dismissive, or looking defeated, that the challenge exceeded them even on paper.

Fluttershy tapped her friend on the shoulder apologetically. “Sorry, I really don’t want to play.”

“It’s okay, Fluttershy. I didn’t think you wanted to, and wasn’t going to force you,” Rainbow said earnestly with a nod.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. At least come see us play, right?” Rainbow Dash asked expectantly.

Fluttershy grinned. “Just let me know when.”

“Awesome. Thanks.” Rainbow Dash gave Fluttershy a clap on the shoulder, and took off toward Twilight’s castle.

“Stormball? Sorry, pegasi sports never came up in my studies.”

Not you too, Twi....

Disappointed surprise soaked into Dash’s face and words. “Oh, come on! Are you serious? You’re totally missing out!”

Twilight’s semi-aloof thinking pervaded her own speaking, “I should have a book around here, but the 797s are two floors up....”

“What are you talking about? 797s?” Rainbow asked a bit thrown.

A smile lit the princess’s face. Brightly, Twilight began, “How a library’s organized. A stallion named–”

Whoa, whoa, whoa...!

“Hang on, I thought we were supposed to be talking about stormball, remember?”

Everything in Twilight Sparkle’s demeanor and inflection condescended how obvious the connection should have been. “Yeah, that’s why I brought up the book....”

Rainbow waved her hooves quickly for a moment. “Let’s do this the easy way: have a seat and let Professor Dash do the teaching!”

Sighing, Twilight closed her eyes with a forced, closed-mouth smile, as her horn began to glow. Dash trotted to an open area with an air of self-importance. She puffed out her chest and raised a forehoof, beginning her lecture with eyes closed and a not-fully-suppressed smirk. “Stormball is the oldest pegasus sport still played today, named for its rapid movements around the clouds. Two teams send eleven ponies into the field of play, or pitch, which is a hundred-and-fifty meters long, and seventy-five meters wide. Score goals by kicking the ball into the goal, each at opposite ends of the pitch.”

“Each goal is three meters tall, eight meters wide, and centered laterally, but not vertically,” interrupted Twilight, sounding of a recitation. Rainbow Dash opened her eyes to notice the open book in Twilight’s levitation spell.

Really? Rude!

“You pulled that down here that fast, without even leaving the room?” Dash asked flatly.

Twilight smirked, “Element of Magic, remember?”

With annoyed gestures, Rainbow grumped, “Geez, Twi, how can you get how awesome the game is out of a book?”

“You were being a caricature of me,” replied Twilight with markedly pronounced annoyed tones.

Oops. Slick, Dash.

“Touché. Sorry,” said Rainbow.

Twilight shook her head. Her displeasure faded as she said, “It’s fine. Let’s see...ah! A ‘stone’ is when the ball hits the cloud layer five meters below the bottom of both goals, which gives the other team the ball halfway between where the ball hit and the center of the opposing goal, but it has to be kicked up from the bottom cloud layer.”

Nodding emphatically, Rainbow Dash said, “Yes, exactly. It’s usually better to crash into the bottom than to let a stone fall. Many brilliant drives, fast-breaks, and corner kicks became a point for the other team because of a stone.”

Twilight’s spell flipped through a number of pages, raising an eyebrow enough to do Applejack proud. “This game looks awfully close to something I saw at Canterlot High, something I played against that world’s version of you....”

Really wish she’d just tell us what’s on the other side of the portal....

Dash’s face scrunched in overt confusion, before easing up. “Don’t know what you want me to say to that, but if we’ve covered stones, let’s talk about meteors. That’s when the ball hits the upper cloud layer, as opposed to the bottom. They’re not as bad. The upper cloud layer is, what, about fifteen or seventeen meters above the top of the goal?”

“Seventeen meters exactly, according to the book.”

Nodding pleased, Rainbow went on, “I thought so. A meteor results in a drop ball. Teams have five seconds to respond and get their players where they want them before the ref drops the ball from where it hit the cloud. Either team can kick it then, but only after it falls five meters. Hit it too soon, and the other team gets a free kick.”

Twilight’s intonation continued insinuating that her thoughts were still elsewhere, yet nevertheless carried itself matter-of-factly. “The book also says any player that kicks three meteors in a game gets a yellow card, or a red card if they already had a yellow card.”

Bobbing her head about, Dash said, “Ooh, I forgot about that. So, keep it in the middle. Not too high, not too low.”

“Rainbow Dash?” asked Twilight bluntly, as she slammed the book shut and floated it to a nearby table.

Jolted, Dash looked around startled. She closed her mouth briefly before giving the uninspired simple response. “Yes?”

Twilight’s face conveyed her thoughts were focusing. She looked over her friend quickly. Rainbow shifted uneasily as Twilight cocked her head to one side. Finally the princess asked, “I’ve been wondering this whole time, why did you bring up stormball now and not sooner, if you love it so much? You wouldn't just come in here and talk my ear off about this sport on a whim, let alone excitedly, or even exuberantly, for no reason.”

Instantly the pegasus’s mood, ears, face, posture, and voice all perked up. “Cloudsdale wants to play Ponyville!”

Both of Twilight’s eyebrows went up this time. She said with growing interest, “Really? That is exciting!”

Dash beamed, “Yeah! It’s gonna be awesome just to play them! Try outs begin at the top of the hour. Are you game?”

“Are alicorns even allowed?” Twilight asked.

Dash pursed her lips, looking upward. “I think so. I mean, you’ve got wings. Why not?”

“Then, I’m in,” answered Twilight, grinning.

As she quickly flew up and through a tight loop, Rainbow rejoiced, “YES!! Thanks, Twi!”

Twilight shook her head with an amused smile. “My pleasure. Oh, who else is trying out for the team?”

Shrugging, the other mare answered, “Don’t know yet. Blossomforth’s grandpa, Bicycle Kick, used to coach the Stars years and years ago; hopefully he’s up for coaching one more game.”

“We should get every strong flyer,” suggested Twilight.

Dash gave her a simple nod. “Of course! We’re gathering up everypony now who can handle it.”

“Every strong flier,” said Twilight bluntly, as the smile started to fade into something sterner.

Not her, Twilight. Don’t say her name.

Rainbow Dash gave her friend a confused look. “Yes...isn’t that what I said?”

“That includes Ms. Hooves,” the alicorn said firmly.

...damn. Just couldn't let it be, could you…?

Rainbow stammered, “Oh, um…I don’t know….”

All hints of joy were gone from Twilight's face and voice, replaced by disappointment and irritation. “Rainbow Dash....”

Dash’s own countenance and tone became one of an elementary schoolfilly in trouble with, but still complaining to, and trying to convince, her teacher, “She’s just so clumsy! And her eyes, Twilight! I don’t think she can see straight.”

“That’s unfair to her. She deserves a chance like everypony else,” said Twilight curtly.

“I know that! And I know she always tries her best! It’s–” Rainbow Dash sighed an even mixture of frustration and tempered concern as her ears flattened. Looking down, she went on, quieter and sadder, “She’s a really nice pony, one of the sweetest here in Ponyville. But I don’t think she’ll make the cut, and I really don’t want to see her feelings hurt. Especially if it’s her eyes that holds her back.”

Twilight’s eyes locked in on Rainbow’s disheartened and guilty face, her own fervent and uncompromising. Austerely, she prompted, “Remember generating the tornado to give Cloudsdale our reservoir for rainwater a few years ago?”

Rainbow’s eyes looked up to meet her friend’s gaze, but her muzzle continued pointing downward. “Yeah?”

Bluntly and directly, Twilight asked, “How many pegasi broke thirteen wing power?”

“Just two.”

“Who were they?”

I’m being a jerk; I got it.

Dash quietly answered, “Me. And Ms. Hooves.”

Just as candid, Twilight asked, “How many pegasi in Ponyville can fly backwards almost as quickly as forwards?”

Okay, Twi, you win this one….

“Just Ms. Hooves,” Dash answered as her ears flattened.

Even brusquer, Twilight pressed, “How many pegasi in Ponyville will feel hurt because they were excluded from tryouts? Hurt worse than if they tried and failed?”

Dash’s shoulders slumped. Her gaze returned to the floor as she started towards the door. “Nopony. I’ll go get Ms. Hooves....”

Twilight’s face and voice eased up as she said, “I’m glad to hear that, Dash. I’ll keep reading up on the game, and see what I can find out about Cloudsdale’s team. Oh, the last place I saw Ms. Hooves was at the park by the edge of town. I’ll see you at, or before, tryouts.”

Rainbow Dash hovered over the park, scanning about. She noticed Scootaloo and her friends still trying to get their cutie marks by the tall maple, seven mares in a knitting circle, Big Mac heading towards Sweet Apple Acres with a load of fertilizer, and the town’s closest pair of best friends on a bench talking to each other. With a telling grin, she shook her head and mused to herself, “How long will it take those two to see and admit what everypony else already knows?”

There, behind the benches a fair distance, sat a gray, wall-eyed pegasus mare with yellow mane, tail, and eyes. She was entertaining a small herd of foals by blowing bubbles. Some of them were running to and from the knitters. Rainbow Dash checked the sun’s position: eighteen minutes until they needed to be back. She sighed, looking around. Others had begun assembling a practice pitch.

Be positive, Dash. Twi will know if you blow this off.

Rainbow descended quickly to the ground, landing with the lightest touch. She trotted over to Ms. Hooves, who was already blowing bubbles into the shape of another of the foals, much to their delight. Lightly tapping on her shoulder, Dash interjected, “Hey, could I talk to you for a moment? I could really use a hoof with something.”

“Hey, Rainbow Dash! Hang on just a moment; I’m almost done,” happily answered the bubble pony. Ms. Hooves took the bubble wand and lightly blew into the ring, puffing her lips in different directions as the bubble grew. Rainbow Dash breathed a soft, but delighted and impressed “whoa” as the single bubble took the form of a spiky-maned colt towards the back of the group. The edges of the bubble quivered against the wand before sealing itself shut and drifting idly. The gathering’s eyes were transfixed on the figure. Ms. Hooves chuckled, “There! That should be all of you. Now run along back to your moms; they should be finished.”

The foals cheered as they scampered towards the knitting circle, which was in fact wrapping up its meeting. Ms. Hooves smiled at the sight. Rainbow Dash grinned for a moment, before turning to the other mare as she said, “I didn’t know you could do that. I mean, I’ve seen Pinkie Pie blow bubbles in the shapes of others, but—”

Ms. Hooves cut her off by proudly patting her cutie mark. “Where do you think Pinkie learned how to do it?”

Smiling and shaking her head, Dash started, “Right, of course, but....”

Rainbow Dash trailed off as she looked around, eyes widening astounded. There were the bubble figures of ten foals and eight mares, include Ms. Hooves, drifting about, but all still intact, even one that got itself caught in a rosebush. Rainbow Dash turned back to Ms. Hooves, still floored at the sight. The wall-eyed mare snickered a little as she said, “All of Pinkie’s would’ve popped by now.”

“How did...?”

Ms. Hooves interrupted, “Here. Take the wand, and blow.”

Dash took the wand with uncertainty, before meeting Ms. Hooves gaze. She returned it to its soapy reservoir, dunking in its looped end. Facing the most open area of the park, she withdrew the wand and blew into its loop. A cascade of bubbles flowed forth, the biggest about the size of an apricot. One by one they burst after a few seconds, the largest surviving the longest and breaking upon a blade of grass. Ms. Hooves smiled. Taking the wand, and not even dipping it back in the solution, she blew a single bubble about the size of a grapefruit that drifted and swirled on the unseen currents and eddies of the seemingly still air, enduring longer than any of Dash’s, from a single short breath. Dash’s mouth moved independently and highly impressed before her larynx caught up with her jaw. “Wow. How did you end up as a mailmare?”

Ms. Hooves sighed, her smile turning sad. With a single shake of the head, she answered, “Blowing bubbles doesn’t pay the bills, certainly not with a party pony of Pinkie’s talent in town. Why don’t you keep ahold of that one, and tell me how long before it pops?”

“Sure, Ms. Hooves.”

“Please, just call me Muffins.”

Dash’s head jolted back as both eyebrows lowered. “‘Muffins?’ I thought I heard the good doctor call you Der–”

Ms. Hooves cut her off with a raised hoof, and firmly said, “That’s a nickname; only those who really love me, and I love back, can call me that.” She shot a grin at the fourth wall. “But you said you needed a hoof with something?”

“Yes, and it’s going to be awesome!” beamed Rainbow Dash, her posture proudly straightening up with excitement shining in her eyes.

The mailmare slowly rotated a forehoof eagerly. “Good start, good start.”

“Cloudsdale wants to play Ponyville in stormball!” squealed the cyan pegasus, struggling to contain her inner fangirl.

Muffins as squealed as well, bounding in place. Clapping her hooves together, she glomped Rainbow Dash, who joined her in the giddy, laugh-filled jumping. Clasping her compadre’s shoulders, Ms. Hooves squeed, “Really!? Ohmigosh! I’ve gotta play! I haven’t played in years!”

“I didn’t know you played!” whooped Dash, excitedly and quickly patting the gray pegasus on her side.

“Oh, Rainbow Dash, I played Striker in high school and won D-II nationals my senior year! The Fillydelphia Eagles thought about recruiting me, even,” Muffins explained, still grinning ear to ear.

Rainbow Dash went agape with an indistinct squawk. With a short bark of disbelieving laughter, she asked in stunned tones, “You almost went pro!? Why not?”

Ms. Hooves looked down, the jumping over, as her ears drooped. Dash’s own followed suit.

Doofus. Should’ve known this would be a sore spot.

The two let go as the gray mare lamented, “Money. My parents couldn’t afford the train tickets, hotels, camps, and so on. I had to let go of the dream, just so that we could keep food on the table. I couldn’t gamble with starvation, just to take a longshot on an unrealistic dream. I just couldn’t do that to them. Mom and dad already gave up so much for me with my eye condition and all; I could not and would not ask to risk their livelihoods, too.”

Caringly rubbing her companion on the withers, Dash sadly replied, “Oh wow. I’m so sorry to hear that. I didn’t know Ponyville Schools even had a stormball team.”

Muffins snorted a single snicker. She looked up and said, “They don’t. I grew up in a little podunk about halfway between Canterlot and Manehatten.”

“Oh. I see. But still, if you want to play, we’re holding tryouts above town hall in about ten minutes,” Rainbow Dash answered.

A magenta flash startled both of them as Twilight Sparkle teleported beside Rainbow Dash. Ms. Hooves bowed before the princess. Twilight sighed through her nose and said, “Please, you know you don’t need to do that.”

“Sorry,” said Muffins.

“Um, I need to talk to Rainbow Dash for a minute,” Twilight said uncomfortably.

“Of course, Your Highness. So, Dash, I’ll see you at the tryouts?” perked up Ms. Hooves.

Smiling, Dash excitedly answered, “You know it!”

Getting her own smile back, Muffins beamed. “Great! See you there!”

Ms. Hooves took off, moving quicker than Dash recalled her ever moving, except for lifting water to Cloudsdale. Twilight gave a pleased smile. Nudging her friend in the side, Dash said, “Ready to go, Twi?”

Twilight Sparkle turned with an air of seriousness that would have killed the mood even at Hearth’s Warming. She pressed, “Before we go, I found out about Cloudsdale’s team.”

Dash cocked her head to one side. “What about the Cyclones? Apart from that they’ve won the FISA championship more than any other team.”

“We’re not playing the Cloudsdale Cyclones.”

Dash’s head then cocked the other direction as her mouth hung open again. A few seconds of silence were broken by a befuddled “What??”

Twilight’s face firmed up, her tone of voice matching. “The team we’re playing is made up of retired professional stormball players, and Wonderbolts.”

“Huh. Guess I’ll get another chance to show Spitfire my stuff, huh?” mused Dash, grinning. Twilight’s face did not change, still just as stern and concerned. Rainbow’s smile sloughed off, revealing underlying worry. “What’s wrong, Twi?”

“They beat the Cyclones.”

Well. Isn’t that something?

“Oh?”

Twilight continued, “And the Fillydelphia Eagles.”

Wow.

“Whoa,” said Dash with a surprised nod.

“And the Baltimare Stars.”

I don’t like where this is going....

Rainbow furled her brow. She slowly said, “Wait....”

“And the Canterlot Constellation, the Manehatten Flyers, the Neigh York Jets, the Trottingham Tempest, the Detrot White Wings, the Whinnyapolis Meteors, and every other FISA team. They didn’t stop there,” elaborated Twilight unsmiling.

What in the blue-flying hell is this?

Dash paused, her face unmoving, picking at the steely expression her friend bore. She prodded, “You’re not serious.”

Twilight sharply exhaled through her nose again. “They took a world tour. They threw down the challenge they could beat any team, anywhere in the world, on their home field.”

Could this be for real? Holy hell.

“You’re…not serious, right?” Rainbow Dash asked in stunned disbelief.

Twilight’s tone took the sound of a captain giving a colonel some ugly news from the front lines. She exhorted, “Saddle Arabia was crushed, Prance fared about as poorly, Griffonstone lost by nineteen goals, the Crystal Empire had Cadance playing and they had to forfeit before the end of the first half, and this is how it’s gone all over. After defeating every foreign team, they returned, and faced Canterlot’s volunteer team, which had both Celestia and Luna on the pitch, and they still won three goals to zilch. We are all that’s left. I doubt they would’ve bothered with Ponyville, if it weren’t for coach Bicycle Kick having retired here, and me.”

Rainbow adopted Twilight’s forced, closed-mouth grin of disbelief for a moment. She sighed, then said, “Let me guess: Spitfire’s playing Striker, isn’t she.”

“No. She’s left wing,” said Twilight.

Rainbow Dash paused. She shrugged, then muttered, “Then Soarin’ must be Striker.”

Twilight shook her head again. “Nope. Right wing.”

“Fleetfoot?” guessed the powder-blue pegasus, eyes pleading to be correct this time.

Twilight smirked. “Goalkeeper.”

Oh, come on…!

“Fleetfoot’s the goalie?! For real??” Dash protested, whipping her tail downward.

“That world tour I mentioned? She missed only nine saves total, across over thirty games, and did not allow a single own-goal. Only Germane scored on her twice. It’s her reaction time,” said Twilight matter-of-factly, face still showing no emotion.

“Wow. Knew she was quick, but…who’s playing Striker?” asked Dash, terribly bewildered.

Twilight Sparkle snorted, “David Buckham.”

Open-mouthed, silent, frozen, with a kilometer stare glazing her eyes, Rainbow Dash’s hindquarters gave out, plopping her posterior down most-undignified. Remembering the blink instinct, she took in a deep breath. Her voice returned, but barely above a whisper. “Oh, Celestia….”

“Yes. ‘The last living legend of stormball.’ The sports analysts all agree, he hasn’t been this good in fifteen years at least, maybe even better than he was in his prime. Nopony's seen anything like it before. And if that's not weird enough, one report states he’s also nursing an anger towards royalty, too. Like, royalty everywhere. Not just ours. No one knows why, either; reports never said anything like that about him before now,” the princess reported in a grave voice.

Ho…ly…crap…I thought the Young Flyers’ Competition was FUBAR before taking the stage, but this…this is a whole new level.

Emptily Dash said, “That’s...a horribly-efficient front three to try and guard.”

Waving a wing in front of the pegasus’s face, Twilight flatly said, “I’ve gathered as much, but we need to get up there; it’s about that time.”

Rainbow Dash instinctively took to the air with Twilight Sparkle just behind her. As the two flew towards the assembling clouds above the center of town, Dash was pensive, as though hundreds of questions heated her mind at once.

Buckham always was the type to go out with a bang, and the double hat-trick to win one last championship certainly was a bang. But...that was five years ago. And he’s never shown any anger toward the princesses. How did he get better now than what he was when I was a filly? When did he suddenly get mad about royals, and how will that factor into the game…?

Author's Note

Here's m' first fanfic, chapter one. The story had been bouncing around m' head for quite awhile. Yes, it's flagged Sad; those parts are in upcoming chapters. Until then, everyone take care, and thanks for reading.

Tryouts

In a lavish rotunda of marble flagstone and pillars, and tapestries of the City of Cloudsdale hung neatly between, David Buckham paced anticlockwise around the circular table where Spitfire and the rest of the team sat, including some lower-ranked Wonderbolts, visibly mulling over something. A scroll laid on the table, fully unfurled, Soarin’ at its end with accountant’s glasses on, Spitfire one space to his left, and Fleetfoot to her left. All other eyes were trained on the pacing palomino. He stopped at a third of the way around the circle from Soarin’, rubbed at his beard for a few moments, then turned to the second-in-command Wonderbolt. “Are you sure that’s all of them?”

“Yeah, Dave. Ponyville’s not a big town. Is there something wrong?” asked Soarin’, looking up from the list and over his spectacles.

“Why would a pompous Bratty McSnobbison live there?” muttered Buckham grimly, turning his back towards the lead Wonderbolts.

Somepony around the table made the barely audible comment, “That’s not fair to Princess Twilight at all.”

“I don’t know; maybe you should ask her when we arrive?” fired back Fleetfoot with a sardonic roll of the eyes.

Ignoring this, Buckham continued, “Makes no sense. Barely over a hundred pegasi total live there, including foals. It’s not a large fief by anypony’s measure. No significant wealth, only three rich families there, all who have next-to-zero influence outside that town, nor is it along any major trade routes. The bint has no bloody reason to live there.”

“Hey, that’s no way to talk! What’s gotten into you lately?” shouted an aging mare as she stood up, coat of a pale blue-gray, white mane and tail, and cutie mark of nine accented snowflakes.

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Buckham recovered, “My apologies, Flurryfeather, everypony, truly. I guess I’m letting it get to me, being so close. Who did you say were their strongest fliers, again, please?”

“Rainbow Dash, Muffins Hooves, Thunderlane, Blossomforth, Flitter, Cloudchaser, and Paper Moon. Bicycle Kick is way too old to play, but he’ll probably coach,” read off Soarin’, his face less than pleased.

Buckham snorted, “Don’t forget the princess.”

“She hasn’t had her wings for much more than a year. I don’t expect her flying to be all that great,” Spitfire disagreed with a wave of her hoof.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but she’ll be trouble if we don’t watch her,” interjected Fleetfoot.

Spitfire slowly turned to her left, giving a ridicule-laden glower to her second officer. She tapped a hoof a second before retorting, “Oh? You’re so certain, are you?”

Unfazed, Fleetfoot said, “Twilight Sparkle, as a unicorn, went to Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, graduating valedictorian three years before the return of Princess Luna, and has been Princess Celestia’s protégé for the last twelve years. She continued studying as Her Majesty’s protégé, even while attending Canterlot University and then in Ponyville, leading up to her own coronation.”

“So?” Spitfire chided.

Fleetfoot’s face and voice patronized her captain. “She’s extraordinarily intelligent.”

“What’s that matter on the pitch?” answered Spitfire, just as disdainful as her lefthoof Commander.

With concern, Fleetfoot explained, “The rules say no magic made be used on the ball, pitch, weather, or any other players. They say nothing about using magic on one’s self.”

“Are you saying she’s going to lawyer the rules?” scoffed Spitfire with an eye-roll.

Buckham said, “She could, and she’d be right: she could use magic on herself, all she wants. That rule’s ancient, before any alicorn even considered playing, and she could exploit it to the max. This is why we always have to watch out for a princess.”

An older mare near the door doubtfully asked, “Are you worried about a haste spell or something? Those are known to both age their targets and wear off quickly.”

“No, Cometeer, I’m talking about something far more serious: teleportation,” elaborated Fleetfoot with animated hooves, looking around the rotunda. “Witnesses saw her in Canterlot a little over a year back, only a month or so before her coronation, singing to herself about not being prepared for something. The song’s unimportant; what’s critically important is that the witnesses reported watching her teleport rapidly across a fountain, stopping on every large lily pad across the way, and in a different position after each jump.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Spitfire reproachfully.

Fleetfoot’s patience was audibly running dry. “I’m saying, she can pinpoint teleport, can do it quickly, and emerge in any body position she wants. Their Majesties could teleport mid-air too, yes, but Princess Twilight rematerializes far, far quicker than Princess Celestia or Princess Luna. With her brains, if she sees a clear path and gets a hoof on the ball, she’ll have a fast break, a damn quick one, too. She’ll predict the trajectory after every kick, teleport along its route, and appear just long enough to kick the ball again before teleporting to a point downrange of the new trajectory, until she takes a shot, and avoid an offsides flag. If she’s allowed to start doing that, I don’t think anypony could stop her, not you guys, not even me. Do not let her have a clear path to the goal.”

Spitfire scoffed again, shaking her head. Looking around the rotunda, she said, “Rather than worry about hypotheticals, and keeping our back three too far from the action, why don’t we focus on the clearly-defined dangers, like Rainbow Dash? That mare can move when she wants to, faster than any of us. She’s one of only a hooffull of ponies who’ve ever broken the sound barrier. She also set a really high number of records at the Wonderbolts Academy; I’m talking about breaking records I set all those years ago, and more.” Spitfire looked at the table a moment, muttering under her breath, “Hell, she has the academy record for holding the most academy records.”

“You still have the highest wing power of any living pegasus, ma’am,” Soarin’ said encouragingly.

“True, but she’s quicker than me in dives and level flying. If she gets a fast break, well, it may be up to you, Fleetfoot,” replied Spitfire, turning from her first officer to her second.

Buckham snorted, “Well, Captain, need I remind you of an old adage among coaches, one I first heard from Coach Bicycle Kick my rookie year?”

Spitfire chuckled to herself a moment, shaking her head. She looked up at the palomino and said, “No, I didn’t forget. It’s why I’m damn proud of our back three and goalie.”

“Well, there’s also Muffins Hooves. She had some serious talent. I’m surprised she didn’t come to camp that year. We really wanted her on our team,” said another aging stallion.

Buckham sighed sadly with a disappointed expression. Full of melancholy, he replied, “I don’t know why she didn’t play for the Eagles either, Tom, but with all due respect, I don’t think she can do it anymore. She’s been out of the game for years now, longer than you or I, even more than most of us here who’ve retired, and her eyes have gotten worse in the meantime. It’s a shame, but I doubt we’ll even see her on the pitch.”

In the late afternoon, the last three pegasi to arrive took a seat at the pitch. Five stormballs sat on the lower cloud layer just inside the field of play, violently yellow in color, stitched in an almost brick wall-like pattern. Rainbow Dash sat on the cloud-made bleachers beside Twilight Sparkle, chuckling to herself. Muffins was three lengths away, sharing a hearty laugh with a pastel pink pegasus mare with a braided sky blue mane and tail, silvery eyes, and a winged horseshoe for a cutie mark. Twilight looked down at her friend’s hooves. “Why are you holding a bubble?”

I’m still asking myself that.

Dash chuckled some more before turning to look her friend in the eye. “Ms. Hooves blew that and asked me to see how long it lasts.”

Twilight smiled. “Having a better opinion of her, I see.”

Rainbow Dash nodded for a moment. Then her gaze drifted downward. Her shoulders slumped right after her ears. Twlight cocked her head to one side. With a sigh, Dash confessed, “I feel like such a jerk.”

Twilight patted her friend on the shoulder. With a weak smile, she began, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I understand your concern with her sight, but—”

Waving her hooves dejectedly, Dash interrupted, “She was great in high school, and almost went pro, but she didn’t. She didn’t pursue that dream so that she didn’t run her parents bankrupt, in case she failed. She said she felt like they had already risked enough for her.”

Twilight’s own shoulders dropped, and with them the corners of her mouth into a somber demeanor, ears soon following. As her eyes fell to looking almost straight down to the bleachers below, she breathed, “Oh. Oh my.”

“A heart-wrenching decision I’m glad I didn’t have to make. I’m starting to see how lucky I was as a filly, with pretty well-off parents,” Dash solemnly said.

With an empathetic nod, Twilight muttered, “You and me both.”

Muffins came over and sat on the other side of Rainbow Dash as Blossomforth and a very old stallion flew onto the pitch from above and behind the stands. He looked like he was once a pine green pegasus with a white mane and tail, but now was mostly white with some green streaks, only one still dark. Those eyes, though, still a raging fire and drive shone clear behind their azure irises. While the old stallion clearly has stayed fit and active, there’s only so much good genetics and healthy lifestyles can do to slow the unforgiving march of time. His cutie mark on his flank was an unmistakable bright yellow, in a pattern any self-respecting pegasus athlete would instantly recognize anywhere: a stormball, deformed and bent from a powerful kick. He looked up into the stands, his demanding expression and steely eyes examining the entire crowd of almost sixty pegasi as Blossomforth took a seat in the front row. Not a word was spoken. The anticipation, uncertainty, and intrigue had became palpable as his eyes made a second pass through the gathering.

“I hear that somepony or someponies think they can play a little stormball!” barked the wizened old coach in his commanding baritone. “You think you play this game!?”

A few spoke their affirmations. Bicycle Kick’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit! I can’t hear you!”

Everypony said, “Yes sir!” as Twilight’s pupils contracted to pinpricks and her eyelids went as far open as the muscles could physically allow.

Bicycle Kick nearly growled before shouting, “Bullshit! I still can’t hear you! Sound like you mean it!!”

The crowd roared, “Yes sir!

The coach snorted disapprovingly. With a grunt and a breath, he bellowed, “While you are here, on this pitch, you will do everything I tell you to do! You will not whine! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will do whatever I say the first time! I do not have time to repeat myself!” He started slowly flying towards the middle of the stands, never stopping his booming monologue, “I have five days, including today, to whip this sorry, unorganized mess into a lean, mean, stormball machine! You will work like you mean it! You will work like you like it! For these five days, stormball is your life! Stormball is your job now; your employers will just have to deal! You will eat, drink, and sleep stormball! You will be begging for more stormball when Celestia puts the sun to bed! You will dream of stormball, even if Luna doesn’t want you to! You’ll be up before the ass-crack of dawn with a fire in your bellies for more stormball! And I don’t care if you’re used to the crème del la crème every morning for breakfast…”

Crap. Can’t say I’m surprised, but hold fast, Twilight.

Coach Bicycle Kick made a bee-line for Twilight, her eyes widening again as his voluminous tirade continued uninterrupted, “…made from scratch by your happy purple dragon, sitting on your goddamn fluffy pink cushions, in your pretty crystal treehouse, wearing your darling golden crown; your life is stormball now!” The old coach’s stern face was unchanged, even as he was well within Twilight’s personal space, less than an inch from noses touching. The princess’s ears fell flat as Bicycle Kick carried on, “While you’re on my pitch, I am your king, and stormball is the only thing on your mind! Do you understand that, Sparkle?!”

Twilight, in a louder than usual voice, said, “Yes sir!”

Not loud enough, Twi….

“Bullshit! I can’t hear you!” rebuked the irked coach.

Twilight shouted, “Yes sir!”

Louder!

Face contorting, Bicycle Kick snapped, “Bullshit! I still can’t hear you!”

The alarmed alicorn hollered at the top of her lungs, “I understand, sir!”

That should do it.

“What’s the matter, Sparkle? Don’t you want in?” accused the coach, now nose-to-nose with Twilight.

“I want in, sir!” screamed the alicorn, her breath accelerating and fear staining the edges of her voice.

Come on, Twi! Don’t sound scared; he’s just gonna grill you more!

“Then why don’t you sound like it?!” frothed the old stallion, some spit flying and hitting Twilight in her open mouth. The princess’s eyes narrowed.

“I will play, sir!” barked Twilight, fear being replaced with anger, and teeth clenching.

That’s it, Twilight! Feel your inner athlete!

“Don’t just play, Sparkle! Win!!” yelled Bicycle Kick, getting another splat on Twlight’s neck.

Twilight Sparkle’s face was changing expression, becoming in line with the rising fury in her inflection. “I will win, sir!”

No, inner athlete, Twi, not inner soldier....

A pointed glare betwixt the two hung heavy in the air around the determined coach and verbally beleaguered princess. Without pause, and with an up-curled upper lip, Bicycle Kick mocked, “Were you not prepared for this, Sparkle?”

“No, sir!” snapped Twilight, nostrils flaring, pupils dilating, and some veins surfacing.

Twi, keep it under control....

“Are you gonna sing about how you weren’t prepared for this!?” goaded the foach, still unblinking.

“No, sir!” snarled the princess. Muffins and several others gave a slight gasp as Dash’s eyes widened. Twilight’s mane, starting with the roots at the bottom of her neck, was being replaced by an orange-white flame, one that inch by inch supplanted the long coarse hair.

Oh hell...way too far, Twi; you have to calm down…!

Without even a slight break, Bicycle Kick continued, “Good! Only the winners get to sing on a stormball pitch!” He wheeled away from Twilight and her mounting rage, turning to different ponies in the crowd, still sans pause in his speech. “And you want to sing! You’re going to sing! I will make you sing! Get on your faces and give me a hundred wing-ups! Then the real work begins, so that you’ll sing this Saturday!”

Twilight and every pegasus gathered, except the old coach, immediately dropped and started the exercise. Five wing-ups in, the flames dissipated into her natural locks. Ten later, Twilight’s expression looked much closer to baseline. She looked over at Rainbow Dash and Ms. Hooves, both of whom were quicker than she was, and looked much more determined. She fumed, “What in the hoof was that!? I didn’t know he was such a potty-mouthed, militant slave-driver!!”

“I love it!” Muffins mused in a determined voice, grinning with focus in an almost sneer. “That means he’ll quickly weed out those who’ll break or hesitate to follow his orders. I’ve heard those speeches given to the rich, snobby fillies and colts who came to tryouts, to see if they’d break. You know, the ones who had their every whim catered, but daydreamed they were tough stuff. Most of them left in tears. I’m glad you didn’t break, but you worried me for a second. Just the same, though, this takes me back to happier times.”

“How can this…ugh…be happier times?” Twilight groaned.

Dash said, “Come on, Twi! Her inner athlete is coming out! For a few moments I thought yours was, too. But this is what makes it awesome! Feeling your own strength! The camaraderie of playing a team sport! All that screaming to drive us on! The taking of all that flak, pushing yourself through it and saying, ‘Yeah! What now, huh?’ afterwards! It’s to make us work as a team, as one!”

“So let’s start working as one, right now!” said Ms. Hooves. “Chant with me, Dash, doing synchronized wing-ups. We’re gonna sing! We’re gonna sing!”

All right! We’re totally doing this!

Dash jumped in, “We’re gonna sing! We’re gonna sing!”

Bottom on “we’re,” fully up on “sing,” they went. Twilight looked around, and saw others had joined them almost immediately. “We’re gonna sing! We’re gonna sing!”

Twilight joined the others. Fully up on “sing,” dropping just before “we’re,” she exercised and chanted with the team. “We’re gonna sing! We’re gonna sing!”

Awesome. Just awesome, Twlight. You totally gonna feel it!

A few of the pegasi had flown off, either from not appreciating Bicycle Kick’s unforgiving approach, being weirded out by the sudden chanting, or not being fit enough to do a hundred wing-ups. Unheard by the chanting team, facing away, Bicycle Kick let a pleased smirk roll over his lips. “So, those are my leaders, already rallying the others. Excellent.”

Thinned to just under forty, the crowd stood in three close-quartered lines before Coach Bicycle Kick, who paced before the crowd, watching them intently. The bubble Muffins gave Dash sat lightly on the bleachers, in a rounded-out hole dug for it to stay put. Throughout the crowd the palpable anticipation had changed; no more wonder, no more intrigue, no more uncertainty. Just desire. Hunger. Drive. The fires in their bellies were lit, eating up all other thoughts, and asking for seconds. All these pegasi were either a past or present athlete, a combat veteran, or both. The chanting still ringing in each of their ears drew out that focus from all. Twilight, though having been in harried situations of their own flavor, drew focus from a different place: her studies. Within the alicorn’s mind were mathematics and physics formulae, as well as an acute understanding of her own body’s strength, focusing this knowledge to the task at hoof as her own need to win grew.

Bicycle Kick showed his team a grin for the first time. Looking across them again, he spoke softer than before, but with just as much drive and motivation. “That’s more like it. That’s what I want to see from you at all times, or more so. Never less than this. Not once! You who would sport with giants need this focus! A hell of a challenge awaits you! Do you want such a challenge?”

The roaring answer came in unison. “Yes sir!”

“You would play anypony!?” fired back Bicycle Kick, resuming his old volume and zeal.

“Yes sir!” returned the crowd as one, hungry grins rising across their faces.

Bicycle Kick started rightward to the crowd, toward the line of stormballs that were there in the beginning.

Come on, coach! Get it started!

“You want to win?” he shouted.

They salivated, “Yes sir!”

Reaching out with his left foreleg, he pulled a stormball to him without even turning to look at it. “You wanna sing!?”

“Yes sir!”

“You gonna earn your right to sing!?” shouted the coach, bouncing the stormball on his knee.

Do it! We want this!

“Yes sir!”

“Then go get it! And bring it back here!!” Coach Bicycle Kick hollered as he kneed the ball high in the air, and masterfully executed the move for which he was named.

YES…!!

The stormball sailed down the pitch as the thunderous flutter and whoosh of nearly forty pegasi taking off, full-speed and nearly in perfect unison, echoed across town. In spite of being in the back row, Rainbow Dash quickly zipped out front, followed very closely by Ms. Hooves. Before they even passed midfield, a magenta burst appeared downrange from the stormball, where Twilight Sparkle appeared, used her chest to trap the ball and dribbled it back on her hind knees toward the others, most of whom flapped in place agape.

Oh, come on! That was totally...uh...what’s the opposite of “awesome” for a finish...crud…“anticlimactic,” maybe? I’ll go with it: that was totally anticlimactic, Twilight!

Only Rainbow Dash and Ms. Hooves continued their high-speed approach as Twilight Sparkle recited with pride and eyes shut, “The rules forbid casting spells on the ball, weather, pitch, or other players. Casting spells on myself, however, perfectly legal. That includes teleportation.”

Well, if at first you don’t succeed....

Twilight opened her eyes in time to see two pegasi bearing down on her with heads full of steam. She headed the ball out of Dash’s reach at her speed.

What the...?

The ball easily went too high for Twilight to keep it away from Ms. Hooves as well. The gray pegasus deftly tapped the ball away from the princess’s reaching forelimbs, and, pulling an unsightly tight turn, began dribbling it back towards the coach between her front two hooves.

Hot damn! that was an awesome 180!

Dash had recovered from overshooting her target and was catching up fast. She shouted, “Hey Muffins! Why didn’t you say you could pull hairpin turns?”

“Because you never asked!” replied the grinning wall-eyed mare, eyeing Dash’s approach above her. Just as Dash thought she could steal the ball, Muffins knocked it to her right, and snickered as Dash overshot her target a second time.

Aww, not again!

Ms. Hooves flared her wings out and forward, forcing a hard right turn, easily resuming control of the ball. The rest of the crowd was in motion now. Ms. Hooves turned in time to see Thunderlane slide-tackling towards her. Extending her wingbeat, she lifted herself above her first challenger. The second, though, came from in front, and too soon after the first for Ms. Hooves to react.

Wait for it....

Paper Moon knocked the ball away, and began turning back towards the coach.

Wait for it....

Blossomforth stalled out of a climb in front of him, distracting Paper Moon enough that the she took possession and began driving towards her grandfather, just as expertly dribbling the ball as Ms. Hooves had.

There! She hasn’t looked this way yet!

“Surprise!” shouted Rainbow Dash, swooping from Blossomforth’s left at breakneck speed, taking the stormball into her own well-executed dribblin, albeit not as well-trained as Blossomforth or Ms. Hooves. She looped towards Coach Bicycle Kick, who wore a well-amused smile.

Uh-oh....

Four pegasi converged on Rainbow’s path, causing a heap of indistinguishable grunting, alarm, and displeasure. A barely-of-age stallion, Reggie Stormkicker, emerged with the ball. His possession was short-lived, as Flitter took it away, and lost it just as quick to her sister, who in turn could not keep it any longer than that from Ms. Hooves, again.

Patience, Dash. Let those two do the hard part, then move in.

With Rainbow Dash bearing down on her from behind, Thunderlane again from the side, and Blossomforth from in front, Ms. Hooves sharply turned away. Most of the crowd was behind Thunderlane, but Ms. Hooves grinned at what she saw. She knocked the ball perfectly ahead, wound up with her back right hoof, and near the exact middle of the pitch, delivered a strong kick with a visible spin on the ball.

Oh Muffins, what are you aiming at?

The ball appeared to be going into the stands, missing Bicycle Kick by a good ten-degree arc, but the trajectory began to turn...curving towards the old coach.

Huh!? What is…?

Rainbow Dash gasped, “How did you…?”

“Learned a long, long time ago how to bend it like Buckham,” Ms. Hooves said delightly, with an eyes-closed grin.

The crowd floated with jaws hanging limp again as it became flabbergastingly clear to everypony that Muffins had delivered an accurate shot, right to Bicycle Kick. The curve was right on the money, and not one of them could accelerate enough to get there in time. The coach looked at the approaching ball, and had raised a forehoof to catch the ball against his side. Then, a magenta flash shone three meters from coach, and Twilight Sparkle appeared exactly in the way. Muffins exclaimed, “Oh, come on!”

Yeah, I feel ya.

Twilight trapped the ball as before, and lightly tapped the ball into the awaiting hooves of the coach. Bicycle Kick looked her square in the eye and said, “I might have a place for you on my roster, Sparkle.”

Twilight squeed as Bicycle Kick turned to the crowd. “Did you see that? Stormball isn’t about fancy ball-handling, or necessarily taking the best shots! Stormball is about being at the right place at the right time! Then you can worry about how well you handle the ball or take a shot, and not before that! And from what I saw, eight of you were at the right place at the right time during the drill, but only Sparkle got there when it mattered the most! Get some water, Sparkle. The rest of you line up; we’re doing it again!”

The day had passed sundown, and stars east of Ponyville swelled in number. Sweat glazed the almost two dozen pegasi and one alicorn still at the pitch, except for Bicycle Kick, shimmering from the last quarter moon in the south-east. The teammates were paired off in two layers of six lanes, flying up and down the pitch as fast as they could handle in unison, a good ten meters apart, single-touch passing back and forth. Rainbow Dash and Ms. Hooves were paired together. Twilight’s partner was the young Mr. Stormkicker, whose face betrayed how awestruck and such he was with the princess.

Bicycle Kick’s stopwatch read 42:17.86 and ascended exactly as expected. The coach looked up at the drill in progress. Taking a deep breath, he boomed, “Earlier I said something in passing to you lot, that ‘you who would sport with giants need this focus.’ Let me make sure you understand exactly what giants we’re dealing with! This is not the Cloudsdale Cyclones we’ll be playing; this is a volunteer team that beat that pro team five goals to one! They play the old-fashioned 3-3-1-3 set better than any of the great teams of old did, and circled the globe with it, defeating national teams abroad, left, right, and center! Most importantly, I have your opponents’ starting line-up! Goaltender, Commander Fleetfoot! Sweeper, Franz Buckenbauer! Left Fullback, Lt. Commander Rapidfire! Right Fullback, Cometeer! Center Midfield, Thomas McNimbus! Left Midfield, Flurryfeather! Right Midfield, Lt. Commander Misty Fly! Stopper, Chris Reinaldo! Right Forward, Commander Soarin’! Left Forward, Captain Spitfire! And Striker, David Buckham!”

Many of the balls had already fallen to the lower cloud layer before the old coach finished reading the roster, as many of the participants stopped in their flight, agape at Bicycle Kick’s announcement. Dash and Muffins hadn’t even slowed down. Only one other ball was still aloft, but only briefly. Somewhere above that Twilight’s voice rang out, “Focus, Reggie!”

“Bring it in!” ordered Bicycle Kick.

And we didn’t even flinch!

Twilight flew over to Rainbow Dash and Ms. Hooves, who still showed the fire in their eyes and a determined grin on their faces. They hoofbumped as Twilight reached them. With a small laugh, the princess exclaimed in amazement, “I’ve never seen you like this before, Ms. Hooves. Never when you’ve worked with me have you been this focused. It’s like a whole new you!”

“I feel alive,” Muffins said with a satisfied sigh. “I know most of Ponyville thinks of me as nothing more than the happy-go-lucky but clumsy mailmare, but this...I’ve missed this. More than I thought I would. I’m my old self again. That sleeping part of me is awake. I’m not the clumsy mailmare here, out on the pitch. Here I’m not trying to learn some complicated new skills and formulae, or carry some heavy, unbalanced bag across town. No. This feels right. This feels natural. This feels like me. I’m where I belong, where I always should have been.” She gave a sad smile again, looking down as she thought aloud, “Should’ve gone for it. That first check, even as a bench-warmer, would’ve paid for eye surgery, and then...who knows how many foals’ walls would have my poster? Guess we’ll never know now.”

Oh, horsefeathers....

Dash’s and Twilight’s ears both drooped at the gray mare’s words. Muffins picked her head back up as they approached the gathered ponies around the coach, looking more the part of the mailmare everypony in town knew, instead of the athlete that had just been seen here, on this pitch, for the last several hours. Rainbow looked at Twilight, who was actively stifling being all misty-eyed. They were the last to bring it in, hovering at the outer edge of the gathering around Bicycle Kick.

The coach looked around the stunned faces of his team, taking the time to make eye contact with each and every one of them. He gave a firm and strong nod, then began another oration, its tone becoming increasingly encouraging as it went on. “Daunting. Their entire roster, both starters and relievers, nothing but big names that’ve retired, and active-duty Wonderbolts. The best of the best. Each a giant in their own right, some are even called legends. What brings down legends? Better legends, bigger legends. Champions. Those that surprise them. Those they underestimated. The ones that come at them sideways when they prepared against a frontal assault. The ones they counted out from the beginning are the ones that’ll get them. They are the ones the common ponies will remember. They will lay giants low. This, fillies and gentlecolts, this is your challenge. You will rise to meet it head-on. You are they. Remember who you are: those who sport with giants don’t back down. They don’t quit. They don’t surrender. They don’t stop. They pick each other up. They are a team. They waste no time coming together as one. They dig deeper than anypony, even themselves, thought possible. They enforce their will on the world against even the worst of odds.”

Bicycle Kick paused a moment to look around at the team, many of whom were nodding. Picking up more even more resolve, he continued, “You who remain, you are my giant-killers. I saw the fire in all your bellies today. Keep it hot. We have work to do. Be back here by 4:30 for practice. We will be watching film of their games, some drills, then breakfast. Not a bite before. Got it?”

“Yes sir!” The drive, the determination...back at full strength. Muffins’ inner athlete was out again; her grit, stamina, and need to win were plain even to see, as the light failed. Even Twilight Sparkle stood tall, the expression on her face bore the oft-depicted “eye of the tiger” as she yearned for more stormball, and hungered still more than that for victory.

“Forehooves in,” Bicycle Kick ordered. Adjusting for altitude, all two dozen ponies crammed together enough that they brought their right forehooves together in the middle. The old coach concluded, “You’re gonna bring me my song. Win on three.”

And as loud as the night is dark, the team answered, “ONE, TWO, THREE, WIN!!”

Author's Note

Whoo, two chapters! Hang onto your feels; they're coming. Real soon.
And with apologies to David Beckham, the relationship between his ponified self and the Wonderbolts is about to get, say...interesting.

'Til next time, take care all, and thanks for reading.

Practice

Atop a spent cumulonimbus sat Spitfire as the light of pre-dawn brightened the dips and dales of distant mountains spread across the eastern horizon. Steam from her coffee intermingled in her mane as the high-altitude winds scampered haphazardly. Her military fatigues did nothing to mask her orange fur. Taking a sip, her ears flicked up. She set the mug down in her lap, and said, “I don’t like it, old friend.”

Soarin’ sat next to her, similarly dressed and with his own mug filled with the same magic brown liquid of goodness and life. He took a gulp. “We’ve been watching, and we feel the same, Captain.”

“Spend any real amount of time with the old colt, and it’s hard not to see the change,” added Fleetfoot, lowering her hovering self to Spitfire’s left. The three sat as more light crept into the valleys. Spitfire’s eyes suggested the caffeine was slowly beginning to set in. Taking off her shades, Fleetfoot turned to her captain. “If I may, why are we out here?”

“A reminder,” answered Spitfire, taking a whiff of her steaming mug contentedly.

Soarin’ finished another sip before asking, “Reminder? Of What?”

Spitfire simply took another sip of her coffee, then lightly gestured to the east. Stronger hints of the sun came through. Fleetfoot produced a tall aluminum can with some bright green lettering on a black label from a coat pocket. Pulling the tab, a slight hiss was followed by her pressing the can’s opening to her lips and draining a portion of its contents. The sun continued its slow climb, greeting the three with a red, orange and blue splendor as its upper edges slithered between the valleys of the far-off highlands. Spitfire took a longer draught of her coffee as dawn pushed a new day into the world. Gesturing again, Spitfire explained as Soarin’ drank some more Joe, “This. A reminder of our First Duty. When was the last time we had to worry about actually performing that, excluding the recent impossible tasks?”

Snorting a chuckle, Soarin’ mused, “So, other than Tirek and Discord? I think I was still a Sub-Lieutenant. Commodore Zephyr was in command then.”

“Well, we can’t really count the Changlings Incident either, then. We were out on our assigned patrols when that hit,” Fleetfoot said, eyes wandering about wistfully.

“Nor can we count the Nightmare Moon Incident. It still boggles me, that standing order Her Majesty gave us in the flesh,” continued Soarin’, as he turned back towards his captain.

Spitfire nodded slowly. She took another sip, continuing to watch the sunrise. She set both her hooves on the mug and into her lap again as she answered, “Yeah. I think you’re right, Soain’. Foiling that attempt on Her Majesty's life got me promoted to Lt. Commander, thanks to you two blocking what’s-her-name’s escape routes. I think you guys were promoted to full Lieutenant for it as well.”

Fleetfoot grinned as she nodded. “And all of us received a Diamond Commendation, too. That was the first time the three of us worked as a squad. Dear me, how long ago was that?”

“Let me get back to you, once I’ve hit the books,” said Soarin’, rocking his head side to side slowly. The three sat there for a moment as the sun continued its climb. Soarin’ scratched the back of his head a moment. “Care to share what has you all serious?”

Spitfire glanced around a moment before carefully saying, “Reinaldo pulled me aside last night. Said he had a private chat with Buckham.”

Soarin’s expression switched from not fully awake to fully on-duty. He gave the captain a sideways look before examining his surroundings. “That’s not a good start to this subject.”

A slow moving shadow passed over the three. They looked up, then pressed their heads close together, covering their huddle with their wings. Some whispering stayed audible, but too hushed and muffled for anypony else to tell what was said. Spitfire’s wings were the first to fold back into a resting position, a few seconds before the other two relaxed theirs almost in unison. Both Soarin’ and Fleetfoot had wide eyes, but the rest of their faces were contorted between shock, anger, and confusion. Spitfire hissed, “Again, not a word of it outside the Wonderbolts.”

“Yes ma’am. Goes without saying,” said Fleetfoot as she shook her head, then took her beverage bottom-up. Spitfire sipped her coffee again as the top of the sun broke above the mountains properly. Soarin’ sighed deeply, and drank a bit more of his dark roast served black, his face looking more of in thought than in shock. Fleetfoot shook the empty can, crushed it between her forehooves, and turned to her captain. “He hasn’t actually committed a crime. Yet.”

“‘Yet’ being the operative word of that statement. Keep an ear open. And stay ready,” ordered Spitfire, holding her coffee close to her mouth but not drinking just yet.

Soarin’ said, “We’re always ready, ma’am. Every single one of us.”

“We thought you knew that,” teased Fleetfoot lightly, eliciting a small smile from Spitfire.

The captain drained her mug. She passed a pleased grin to her first and second officers. “Of course. Glad to know the Wonderbolts and Their Majesties will be in good hooves, come what may.”

The amphitheater in Twilight’s castle could easily seat 450 ponies, plus the six large thrones, and one smaller, in the back-center. Instead, all of twenty-five were present, one standing, the others in the first three rows. The lights were off, and dawn was not due for another hour at least; all illumination came from the projector screen showing the volunteer team led by Buckham playing against the Gallopston Gales, the only team to lose by just two goals during this tour. The Gales had a 2-4-4 formation, and could really move around the pitch. The two teams on the field were in a heavy struggle to get the ball past either side’s midfielders. Coffee aroma hung heavy in the air, with twenty-five steaming mugs by their respective ponies and two carafes on a side table.

Rainbow Dash sat to the left of Twilight Sparkle; to the princess’s right was Ms. Hooves. All three had a steaming mug, but in Dash’s lap was the bubble Ms. Hooves blew for her the day before, still holding on strong. Twilight tentatively took a sip of her coffee, and promptly stuck out a complaining tongue. Muffins shook her head with a snicker, then took a deep gulp from her mug. Rainbow Dash looked at the caffeine source doubtfully, giving Twilight and Muffins a sour face, before taking another sip, and forcing a pained, hard swallow. She stopped by the side table and grabbed two more sugar packets and another creamer. Ms. Hooves shook her head thoroughly amused. “Do you want some coffee with your cream and sugar?”

Dash scoffed, “I’m not used to being up so early, or needing this stuff. Cut me some slack.”

“I would, if you weren’t up to four creams, six sugars, and no sign of stopping,” snickered Muffins, before taking another sip.

Twilight yawned, frowned at the steaming mug, and choked down more of its dark brown fluid. “I’m used to tea. I know this stuff has more kick, but…blech.”

Bicycle Kick shouted, “There! That move Reinaldo made right there! Spike, rewind the tape fifteen seconds!”

The film kept rolling. Twenty-five faces expectantly turned towards the projection booth. A smattering of murmurs echoed for a few seconds. Dash face-hoofed, Muffins shook her head, and Twilight started shouting, “Spike? Spike!!”

Oh, you are in such trouble, Spike.

Still the footage continued as the ponies faced away, showing Spitfire delivering a corner kick, Buckham and Reinaldo boxing out a pair of the Gales defenders apiece, clearing the way for Soarin’ to head it hard into the net’s high corner on the same side as Spitfire. Twilight got up as the screen showed the euphoric Soarin’ pumping his hoof as the rest of his team carried him like a prince in a sedan chair. Bicycle Kick very quickly flew up to the projection booth, throwing the door open. A thwack echoed just after the coach went inside. Spike yelped, “Oww…!! What!? WHY!?”

Did he really just…?

From within the booth, Bicycle Kick’s voice roared, “You had ONE JOB, Spike!!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” answered Spike, not really sounding sorry.

“Why can’t you stay awake for longer than five minutes!?” demanded Bicycle Kick as rattling of metallic equipment sounded through the door. The footage on screen paused.

Angrily, the young dragon retorted, “The sun’s not up yet! Gimme a break!!”

A poorly intoned, but distinctively disgusted grunt sounded from the booth. Another sound of a blunt impact was accompanied by more of the coach shouting. “No, you give me that doll, you creepy little shit!”

That...is too far, coach.

“NO!! Wait...!! Waah...TWILIGHT...!!” wailed Spike.

Bicycle Kick came out of the booth holding a plush Rarity, quickly followed by a crying purple dragon. The coach wheeled about, keeping the doll out of Spike’s jumping and flailing reach, still shouting. “Rewind the tape two minutes! Stop when I tell you to stop the tape, rewind it when I say so, and maybe I’ll give this back to you after the game Saturday! Fuck up one more goddamn time between then and now, and the Carousel Boutique will be getting a very strange parcel with a very thorough explanation! Do you understand me, Spike!?”

Just because half the town already knows doesn’t make this okay. Twi and I should talk to him during intermission.

Sobbing, Spike nodded weakly. The old coach snapped, “Good!” and flew back down toward the others.

Twi, don’t…crap.

Twilight met him halfway, displeased look on her face, as Spike retreated to the booth with his head hanging. The coach regarded the princess with annoyance. “Something to add, Sparkle?”

So much for getting through to him while he isn’t pissed. You’re just going to make it worse....

Twilight’s eyes narrowed as she growled, “Do I need to remind you whose castle this is?”

Bicycle Kick snorted. He shook his head, then responded, “That’s the one job he volunteered for, and he promised he could do it without issue. This is the third time one of us has had to wake him up. And don’t you start about his age! He had the stakes thoroughly explained to him by both of us, and he was offered coffee with the rest of the team! If you have another suggestion for who can run film, I’m all ears! Until then, he needs to do the job he said he could, or own up for his failures. Just because this is your castle doesn’t mean he did what task he signed up for, does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Twilight said unhappily.

Bicycle Kick savagely continued, “Nor does it change that you agreed to let me coach as I know how, does it?”

“No, sir,” replied Twilight through gritted teeth.

“I can’t hear you.”

“No sir!” shouted the princess.

Bicycle Kick gave her a cordial, yet passive-aggressive nod, as he commanded, “Then back to your seat, Sparkle! What we’re going over right now is important!”

That...went better than expected, but damn...I’ll check on the little guy before breakfast.

Both returned to where they sat in a huff. Muffins tapped Twilight on the shoulder. “I think that was the first time we’ve seen him actually mad.”

“At me?” asked Twilight, indignation permeating her countenance and tone.

“At all, but specifically at both of you, him for nodding off again, and you for trying to cover for him,” Ms. Hooves gently explained.

Dash sighed in disagreement. Utterly exasperated, Twilight hissed, “I didn’t cover for him!”

“Twilight...is it okay I publicly call you Twilight?” asked Muffins with hope.

The alicorn smirked a moment and nodded at the wall-eyed pegasus. “Please do.”

Ms. Hooves answered with cautious assertion. “Okay. Did he do his job, Twilight?”

“No, but—” began Twilight, a bit huffy.

The tape began to rewind, heavily distorting the quick, reversed images with some bent static moving around in two horizontal patches. Muffins waved a hoof as her interruption, before starting again as before, “Was it because he got an injury doing his job?”

“No, he—” Twilight tried again, a bit more annoyed, as the other stopped her like before.

“Look, that’s all a coach cares about. You do your job, or get out of the way so that somepony who can do the job will. The only permissible reason to not, is because you were injured, or got sick. To him, your trying to explain Spike’s sleepiness sounds like you’re covering for him, or making excuses. Boon or bane, it’s how coaches are,” explained Ms. Hooves, sounding of one who avoided trotting on others’ hooves.

Twilight sharply exhaled, then hissed, “It doesn’t change that he went too far with Spike. That was unnecessary.”

“And cruel,” Dash added.

Muffins evenly said, “I know, but it doesn’t change that it was the third time somepony had to wake him. He let you handle it twice, but Spike still fell asleep. I certainly won’t say he’s in the right for how he handled it, but clearly he thought you were given a fair chance and failed.”

“I have to prove myself to him constantly, don’t I?” scoffed Twilight.

Muffins nodded slowly. Rainbow balked indistinctly as Muffins said, “Welcome to world-class athletics. It’s that way with all of us.”

The film had stopped rewinding to the spot Bicycle Kick wanted. He motioned to the projector booth, and the film rolled forward. Spitfire had the ball, moving up quickly near the sideline. Soarin’ was on far side of the pitch, very nearly offsides, but also very close to the defender. Buckham was a bit ahead of Spitfire, likely within her part of the field, but also had the attention of two midfielders who were close enough to prevent a clear pass. A Gales midfielder was approaching Spitfire. Buckham started to climb a bit, moving forward at a reasonable pace. Suddenly, Reinaldo quickly darted forward between Spitfire and Buckham, dropping to just a few meters above the lower cloud layer. Coach motioned to pause the film, which Spike did, as one of the defenders on Buckham turned slightly.

Bicycle Kick turned to the team and said, “This, right here. Reinaldo plays Stopper; what’s he doing rushing forward past the front three?”

“He sees an opening! He played Striker professionally and went to score!” said a tenor answer from the second row.

And Buckham’s career was playing center midfield; what does that matter in these games?

An alto in the front replied, “No, Reggie! Do you see the right fullback? He’s still free; he could easily cover Reinaldo from there if he thinks the opposing Stopper is set to receive a pass, and steal it.”

Muffins elaborated, “Blossomforth’s right. He doesn’t see an opening; he’s pulling a feint. If you’re double-teaming a scoring forward at any time, and another one comes up, one of you needs to break off the double-team and cover the free pony! But Starlighter doesn’t know that her right fullback has the low hole filled! Most of the time a fullback stays at mid-level, climbing or dropping only if that’s where the attack is. But Spitfire’s already a bit under the middle; the fullback has already moved to compensate. Starlighter turns to look, and that creates an opening for Buckham to move forward!”

Starting off sounding pleased, Bicycle Kick said, “Precisely, as the tape is about to show. The point of a—hey! If you’ve something to say, share it, or shut up!”

All eyes turned to the left-most seat of the front row. There sat Puffy Cirrus, a sleek, pastel pink mare with a braided white mane and tail, and magenta eyes, with wispy clouds for a cutie mark. She said, “I was saying, it sounds like Ms. Hooves over there watched while the rest of us turned to see what was keeping Spike!”

“We will not start that shit! She is your teammate! Trusting your teammates is key to everything on the pitch!! You have to work as one!! If you can’t do that, Ms. Cirrus, you should go home now! And for your information, we all turned; I could see the backs of every one of your heads, including Ms. Hooves! No more gossip, no more snipping at each other, period!!” snapped Bicycle Kick, glaring at her.

“Yes sir!”

The coach resumed in calmer tones, “I was starting to say, the point of a feint is to force the opponent off-guard. If you don’t sell it, they will not be fooled. You are playing masters of the game; if you have any inkling they will not buy, do not try. It will not work, and we’ll have a gap in the formation. Spike, continue.”

The film rolled. The midfielder Ms. Hooves identified as Starlighter did start to go towards Reinaldo for less than a second, but the Stopper flared his wings out into a sudden stop. As this happened, Buckham swerved left, then up and in. Spitfire stalled and passed, Starlighter could do nothing from where she moved to, and Buckham pulled a bicycle kick to shoot. The goalie got a hoof on the ball, knocking it above the top of the goal and out of bounds. Spitfire flew towards the corner and Soarin’ came towards the middle as the refs took another stormball and set up for the corner kick. Spitfire wasted no time in delivering it, either. The team watched the header for a goal, and the subsequent celebration was cut off as Bicycle Kick flipped on the lights. “We’re out of time here. To the pitch, on the double.”

“Hurry up, Twi! We don’t have time to dawdle!” pressed Rainbow Dash.

Through a semi-full mouth, Twilight Sparkle answered, “Eating too fast causes indigestion!”

Dash bluntly said, “Practicing or playing on an empty tank wears out an athlete faster than constant wing sprints! You’re almost out of time! Chew, swallow! Chew, swallow!”

“You’re one of the last two! You gotta be quicker!” said Muffins, looking around the others.

Rainbow pursed her lips, then said, “Scratch that, you are the last one. Wind-Sailor just finished.”

With an irritated grunt, Twilight shoveled the remaining home fries and pancakes into her mouth, chewing as best as she could while her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel.

Oh, what I’d do for a camera right now.

Muffins visibly bit her lips at the sight while snorting, and Rainbow Dash strained to shove down the guffaws pushing to leave her lips. Dawn broke as a snigger sounded from the next table. Twilight turned to see Thunderlane with a hoof to his mouth, snickering. Taking a hard swallow, the alicorn reduced her cheek pouches’ load as Cloudchaser began to chuckle. Her sister Flitter soon followed as Twilight swallowed another bit, then gulped down the last of it, taking a deep breath. Rainbow Dash’s laugh containment failed, making the bubble in her hooves vibrate, and soon everypony there had some giggling or more about it, except the princess, who simply hung her head. Dash started, “Oh, Twi, if only you could’ve seen your face!” and resumed laughing.

Twilight’s sarcasm was thick enough that AJ could buck fruit from it and grow a new tree. “Yes, I’m sure that’d make me feel sooo much better....”

“Enough!” barked Bicycle Kick. The laughter died as soon as the old coach spoke. “Why don’t I see any fires in bellies!? Why is everypony having a laugh at the expense of one of your own!? What became of being giant-killers!? We don’t have time for this shit! We have work to do! Focus!”

All the team yelled back, “Yes sir!”

Bicycle Kick looked around at his team. “That’s better, but still needs work! You’ll be working on moving the ball up the pitch, from goalkeepers to fullbacks, to wingbacks, to midfielders, to forwards, and a shot! Goalkeepers will attempt a save, and start the drill going the other direction! Once your part of the drill is complete, you will come off the pitch and get in line at the other end for your next turn! You will replace the previous group as they come off the pitch! Do the math, this does not divide evenly: every one of you will play a different position each pass through the drill! Anypony kicks a meteor, you will all have a full-pitch wing sprint! Anypony drops a stone, you’ll all have five! And this is cumulative for the rest of the day! You twelve to the north, you twelve to the south! North side starts with the ball! Go!”

“Yes sir!”

The team bolted from the buffet by the bleachers and out onto the pitch in seconds; Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Ms. Hooves all were part of the south group. They found themselves rushing out onto the pitch as the ball from the north side came fast, Puffy Cirrus in the goal, to Reggie Stormkicker, to Flitter, to Cloudchaser (who barely had turned in time and nearly dropped the ball), to Thunderlane. Ms. Hooves had hardly entered the goal box before the dark stallion took his shot, hard and strong, but from at least a quarter of the pitch away. Muffins didn’t even move at first; it was wide right and too low. Shaking her head clear as she put a hoof between her eyes, she flew back, dropped down, and caught the ball before it hit the lower cloud layer some ten meters behind the goal. She gave it a solid rugby-style punt that crested eight meters from being a meteor. Windy Clouds was well-outside the penalty box when she trapped the ball off her battle-scarred left side and belted it towards Twilight. The princess received the well-placed pass and sent it on to Lily Blossom, who delivered an inaccurate pass to Rainbow Dash. The speedy pegasus, though, easily recovered the errant kick, and started driving hard towards the goal, where Blossomforth was waiting. Knocking the ball forward, she wound up to take the shot, but noticed even as her leg was moving for the ball, Blossomforth had started to move in the goal box, and in the correct direction. The forceful strike sent the ball at the goal well-over 150 kilometers per hour, well-aimed at the lower far corner. Blossomforth, however, simply caught it, center of her chest, as if this was the sort of thing she did every day.

Whoa. I think we have our goalie.

As she, Ms. Hooves, and Twilight flew to their spot in line, Rainbow exclaimed, “I knew she’d know how to play, which coach being her grandpa and all, but wow! Color me impressed!”

Feathermay turned around to Dash, being one space in front of her in line, and said, “You didn’t know? She’s the starting goalkeeper at Pranceton University. This fall will be her senior year. She’s supposed to leave a week from tomorrow for training camp.”

Rainbow’s jaw dropped. She looked down the pitch, then back to the mare in front of her, sounding stunned. “Okay, time out! I knew she had athletic ability, and that her family’s loaded thanks to coach, but I didn’t know she was that good, or that smart! Pranceton’s a private school, isn’t it?”

“And a very good one, too. Not as good as Canterlot, but then again, who is?” Twilight said happily.

Feathermay blinked a number of times, took a breath, and gingerly replied, “If you insist, Your Highness, but yes.” Turning to Rainbow Dash, she became more blunt. “Maybe you should spend more time listening to everypony else instead of napping away your afternoons, or practicing tricks to impress the Wonderbolts?”

Irked, Dash countered, “Hey, I’m in the Reserves, you know!”

“Girls, we’re getting off-topic! Focus on stormball! Watch everypony else, and see what you can learn or help another learn!” hissed Muffins, pointing to the pitch.

The drill continued easily over two hours before Bicycle Kick allowed a ten-minute water break. He kept pressing the team harder and harder, demanding they execute the drill quicker than the last time those same ponies were on the pitch.

After the water break, Bicycle Kick ordered they line up so that they zigzagged, but would not ease off the demand for speed. Soon the meteors and stones started piling up. Before the water break, they were at seven wing sprints. Before 9am, they were pushing thirty. Far from helpful was that Cloud Kicker didn’t seem to have enough leg strength to get the ball to Ms. Hooves whenever neither of them were in the goal, but Muffins sure got the blame for it, particularly from Flitter and Cloudchaser. The only other one to get dinged a bunch was an overzealous draft stallion with a deep purple coat, silvery mane and tail, and electric blue eyes named Stormbringer. His problem, however, was kicking meteors, about which he did get better over time.

Grouching at Muffins had grown loud by 10am; she was clearly being more the part of the mailmare than the athlete by then, and had stopped trying to encourage Cloud Kicker or give her advice. The others hadn’t given up, Twilight especially so. With animated hooves, the princess said, “Time your approach, so that you can hit it at maximum speed towards Ms. Hooves! That should get it clear across the pitch!”

Twilight flew out as the previous drill from their end finished; it was her turn as a forward. Windy Clouds and Ms. Hooves left next, followed by Cloud Kicker, and Thundercracker in the goal. The drill came steadily the other way. Cloudchaser was the forward for her drill, but took the time to stop by Muffins and say, “If it isn’t too much trouble, actually get the ball this time. Close one eye if that helps. I’m really at a complete loss on how you made it this far.”

Ms. Hooves’ ears drooped as she looked down. The high-spirited shouting of practice, and a few thumps of a stormball kicked into motion. She turned, and watched Thundercracker dive completely the wrong way as Cloudchaser kicked a weak goal. The young stallion picked himself up, and passed the ball towards Cloud Kicker. The mare wound herself up, charged the ball, and laid into it as best as she could. It drifted along the correct lateral angle to reach Ms. Hooves…but it crested too soon, again. Muffins tore across the pitch to reach the sinking stormball before it dropped to a stone. She pushed herself, reaching deep within to find the strength to push through, in spite of having done hundreds of wing sprints already, and at risk of doing fifty-six more if she couldn’t get there in time. The lactic acid buildup made her latissimus dorsi and basal wing muscles yelp with every flap, pressing for the sinking ball. Crashing into the lower cloud layer, she knocked the ball up just before it hit with her forehooves.

A breath of relief escaped her. Pushing up, she reared up and mule-kicked the ball with both hind legs towards Windy Clouds. The combat vet turned and flew towards the other goal. Muffins faced the ball to realize, with a sinking feeling, she overdid it. She let out a single sob, shoulders dropping and shaking her head, at the sight. Ms. Hooves collapsed onto the lower cloud layer in rattling gasps as Windy Clouds flew, and stretched, and laid out…but not enough. The ball hit the lower cloud layer, just outside the penalty box. Muffins’ face fell into the lower clouds, quietly crying, as nearly all of the rest of the team groaned angrily.

Damn. So close, but then again, I don’t think anypony else here could’ve done better with controlling a pass that short.

Bicycle Kick blew his whistle. “Quit grouching and get to it!”

The team lined up at the end markers for tearing across the pitch to the far side as quickly as they could. Then turn around, and do it again. Fifty-five more times. Flitter and Cloudchaser intentionally lined up across from Ms. Hooves, but the wall-eyed mare could hear the complaints beginning as she took her place on the line, unable to place any of the voices with a given pony.

“Why did Bicycle Kick allow an idiot on the team?”

“Oh my Celesita, she’s dumb.”

“Just plain stupid.”

“What a stupid mare.”

“How did we get stuck with somepony so damn stupid, anyway?”

“She’s stupid.”

“…so stupid…”

“…how stupid can…”

“…stupid mare…”

“…stupid idiot…”

“…stupid pretender…”

“…incredibly stupid…”

“…stupid…”

She winced every single time somepony said the word. A terrible word, put to a terrible use. A strong, degrading word, first meant to refer to somepony who was incapable of learning. A word pointed at her over, and over, and over, in times past and in the here and now. Tears were already flowing. “Scathed” would not described how deep that word has hurt the gray mare. “Traumatized” gets closer, but even that might not be enough. She never fantasized that she was a genius. She knew she was no Twilight Sparkle, or Smart Cookie, or Starswirl the Bearded, but that word? It wasn’t true; she certainly could learn and definitely had ability...but they still called her that time and time again.

Covering her ears with her hooves, she missed the order to start the wing sprints. She caught up with the others, but could not keep her ears covered as the twins said “stupid” to her, every single pass, nothing else attached...just the one, hated, hurtful word. Every pass, both of them. They spaced themselves just enough that she’d get the double whammy without fail. Fifty-six times apiece they struck at the already-hurt mare’s weakest spot vocally. Muffins was the last to finish the wing sprints, slowed considerably by her heavy crying.

Oh my Celesita...Derpy, what did they say to you?

“Go get some water. Muffins, come with me,” said Bicycle Kick, sounding more of a concerned parent than a coach expecting professional results. He lead the blubbering mare away and out of earshot. The rest of the team watched on as the choked-up mare spoke to the coach, who nodded with empathy.

Did it suddenly get warmer?

“Who did it?” asked a livid, low-register soprano voice from behind the team.

Wait, that could only mean....

Rainbow Dash turned and shrieked in alarm. The others followed suit. At the back was the princess, mane and tail ablaze and eyes turned red. Occasionally parts of her lavender coat flickered into fire before returning to normal. Sparks glistened off her horn. Nopony spoke. Nopony blinked, except the princess. Nearly everypony quivered, standing on the lower cloud layer. Twilight’s wings were out and motionless, yet she slowly floated toward the team, who started backing up. “Who said what to tear her asunder!? Who’s responsible!?”

...this is bad! Real bad!!

Still nopony spoke. The cloud took a yellow tinge somewhere near the middle of the pack. Twilight continued, “Nopony, huh?! That doesn’t just happen on its own! Step forward or forever remain a coward!”

Twi, you could kill somepony like this! You have to calm down!

Still nopony moved. Bicycle Kick returned with a wet spot on his shoulder, and Ms. Hooves, cheeks drenched, in tow. “I have it from here, Sparkle.”

Thank you, coach.

Some on the team shrank some more. The flaming princess began to burn out, and the fire on her long hairs died, leaving them as they were while the red eyes faded. The coach’s lower jaw shook in rage as he glared around the team, mainly on those who cowered under his gaze. He barked, “What the fuck is the matter with you ponies!? Sabotaging one of your own!?! Over what!!? Trying harder than the rest of you!!?”

Yes! Get ‘em!

The lower cloud layer received another yellow discoloration. The coach paused a moment, then continued in quieter tones, “I have no tolerance for bullying. Everypony here knows better than that! I don’t care how mad or frustrated you get with one of your teammates; you are still a team! If you cannot treat each other with basic respect, we will get by without you!”

‘No tolerance for bullying?’ With what you did to Spike?

Many ponies nodded guiltily. Bicycle Kick pointed at the twins, and resumed barking. “And you two! If you want any part of this team, you will make it up to her! And you will fly laps, as fast as you can, until I say for you to stop! I don’t care if you’re hungry, thirsty, or need the little fillies’ room! Get to it!”

Those two again? For real?

Flitter and Cloudchaser took off, circumnavigating the pitch. Gentler, with a touch of sadness, Bicycle Kick commanded, “Start cool down stretches and exercises. You ponies have done a lot of flying, and we have plenty of things to go over.”

Lunch was served back in the amphitheater. Another high-calorie, high-protein meal, but Twilight did not have trouble finishing on time this time. Bicycle Kick stood behind a dry-erase board of some kind at the front, writing something. Just after the last tray was turned in, he stepped away, his task complete, to face his team. “Take your seats! We are going over film of their game against the Prench National Team! Spike, roll film.”

The lights dimmed. Muffins was unfocused, still seeming the mailmare again. Dash tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey.”

Miserably, the mailmare answered, “Hey.”

“Don’t let them get you down,” said Rainbow compassionately, sadness in her eyes.

Biting back a tear, Muffins murmured, “You don’t know how bad it hurts, Rainbow Dash. You just don’t know how awful it feels.”

“You were scrambling crazy distances with nopony to assist you or call it instead, and a totally unfair punishment waiting if you couldn’t get there in time," protested Dash, sweeping her hooves widely. "You can’t blame yourself for being asked to do what couldn’t be done. I couldn’t’ve made it there and controlled half of the passes you got to Windy Clouds. I think you’d have to teleport to get that ball under control and then pass it well.”

“Doesn’t make it any less painful, being called that over and over. So many times they called me that all my life, especially when I messed up. The pitch was the one place where I didn’t have it pointed at me. Until today,” lamented Ms. Hooves, hanging her head.

“It’s still totally unfair. You’re awesome at stormball!” remonstrated Dash.

With a weak smile, Muffins said, “Thanks, Rainbow Dash. I really mean it.”

Dash side-hugged Ms. Hooves, who gladly returned it. Stealthily watching, Twilight smiled to herself at the sight. Muffins sighed unhappily. Rainbow frowned, and asked, “Last night you were so pumped. Twilight’s right: it’s like you’re a different pony out there.”

Ms. Hooves said, “That’s the real me you saw on the pitch last night. It doesn’t come out much. The shrink says this clumsy persona I keep falling into is a ‘defense mechanism,’ something to keep from feeling bad all the time. I don’t really know what she means; I’ve only been to see her twice and only because Doc insisted it’d be best for me. Please don’t let this get spread around.”

Of course, Derpy. Wouldn’t dream of it.

Rainbow carefully checked to see if the rest of the team still had their eyes locked on the film, before reciting and acting out, albeit on a very subdued scale, the promise-keeper’s truest promise. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Muffins giggled at Dash’s cunningly concealed pantomime. Rainbow, with a bit of pink in her cheeks, chuckled some and shook her head. “I feel ridiculous doing that.”

Ms. Hooves patted Dash on the shoulder. The film rolled, showing Buckham and company’s six goals to nil drubbing of Prance. Bicycle Kick had the reel paused occasionally for demonstrating breakdowns in the Prench team’s 3-3-4 set, brilliant misdirection during a throw-in, and other worthy tidbits. After including stoppage time and the coach’s discussions, the session lasted just short of two hours. The lights flipped on, and the team stood up, waiting for their coach’s next direction. Bicycle Kick did not keep them waiting. “We are doing two mock games before supper! I am watching how you handle different formations and different teammates on the field, and we will go from there! For the first game, you’ll be a 3-2-3-2 versus a 4-3-3!”

The coach flipped over the board he used earlier. The diagram of a pitch told their positions, and Bicycle Kick promptly began reading off both sides’ rosters. “Team A! Goalkeeper, Feathermay! Sweeper, Twilight Sparkle! Left Fullback, Cloud Kicker! Right Fullback, Sugar Grapes! Left Wingback, Stormbringer! Right Wingback, Wind-Sailor! Center Midfield, Lily Blossom! Left Midfield, Reginald Stormkicker! Right Midfield, Flitterheart! Center Striker, Petal Breeze! Forward Striker, Rainbow Dash!”

At least he didn’t put both Flitter and Flitterheart on the same side; it’s confusing enough having both of them in the same place.

A smattering of murmurs came from the team. The other half of the team looked to the coach, chomping at the bit to hear their names. Bicycle Kick resumed reading the roster. “Team B! Goalkeeper, Blossomforth! Outer-Left Fullback, Windy Clouds! Inner-Left Fullback, Thundercracker! Inner-Right Fullback, Sunny Rays! Outer-Right Fullback, Banana Bliss! Center Midfield, Puffy Cirrus! Left Midfield, Cloudchaser! Right Midfield, Flitter! Left Forward, Sassaflash! Right Forward, Muffins Hooves! Striker, Thunderlane!”

More low talking echoed in the room. Twilight stopped Bicycle Kick. “Coach, I have a question!”

Stifling a grin, the coach said, “Go ahead, Sparkle!”

Twilight stood open-mouthed, looked at the diagram, pointed at in, and turned back to her coach. “With how well I’ve handled the ball, and the first to finish the first drill yesterday, I don’t understand why I’m not on offense. Would you help me understand?”

A knowing expression lit up Bicycle Kick as he resumed his usual coaching volume. “You wanna know why I’m not having you shooting goals, am I right, Sparkle?”

“Yes sir!”

“Let me tell you all something we coaches like to say! ‘Good offense sells tickets, but good defense wins games!’ You’ll find coaches of every sport say this! We say it ‘cuz we’ve seen it over and over: keep the opponent out indefinitely, and your offense needs only one!” expounded Bicycle Kick. “But if you’re focused on goal-scoring all the time, and not your defense, the game’s a shoot-out every single time, and they need disrupt only one more attack than you to win! And even a so-so defense can disrupt a good offense every once in awhile! What happens when this same team meets a stout defense? What about a strong one?”

The dawning moment of comprehension passed over Twilight’s face. The stallion turned to the rest of the team briefly before resuming talking to Twilight. “Defense wins games! That’s why you’re on defense! Your teleporting is priceless when it comes to the protection of your goal! Do you understand now, Sparkle?”

“Yes sir!” replied Twilight, looking satisfied with herself.

Bicycle Kick fully resumed his fire and zeal. “Good! Everypony to the pitch!”

Spike sat on a stool beside the pitch, manning a scoreboard that had not been needed yet. To his left stood a time clock, including a counter for stoppage time; to his right, the bubble Ms. Hooves gave Dash yesterday. Cloudchaser was about to throw-in the ball. Rainbow had Thunderlane covered very closely and rendered ineffective. Sassaflash made a break back towards her midfielder, and received the throw as Wind-Sailor could not keep up with her. But Wind-Sailor soon caught Sassaflash before she could make any real forward momentum, causing another stalemate. Younger pegasi on the pitch drifted from their positions to help. A tangle of hooves and thumping of the blindingly yellow ball, then out it came from the scrum.

Lily Blossom, who stayed at her post, easily recovered the loose ball and turned the ball up the pitch as Rainbow Dash broke off Thunderlane and headed back to the front. Team B’s center midfielder, Ms. Puffy Cirrus, was drawn to the bunch, and could not prevent a pass to the petite but deft Petal Breeze. She shifted slightly to the left side of her field as she advanced, Rainbow Dash barely keeping from being offsides. Two fullbacks advanced on her from in front, and Flitter from behind, Petal Breeze sent a hard pass towards Rainbow Dash, enough forward she would have to time her break on the ball to prevent the ever-annoying offsides penalty, and immediately take a shot. But Thundercracker moved forward, away from his goal, forcing Dash to follow and prevent the ref from pointing the flag towards her.

Now!

Dash zipped up, twisted her body, and belted the ball with both of her front hooves...only to find Blossomforth predicted her shot...again: twenty-four minutes into the mock game and Blossomforth was, including the long-distance passing drill that morning, nine-for-nine at catching Dash’s shots, not just knocking them away or getting a hoof on the ball, catching them. The talcum-coated mare gave Dash a disappointed look, as if to say this was too easy.

And this is why she starts on an elite collegiate varsity team.

Blossomforth threw the ball to Banana Bliss, who quickly passed it to Flitter. Reggie quickly came up, disrupting her path. Flitter needed to pass, and soon: if this turned to a scrum, the younger, stronger Mr. Stormkicker would eventually emerge with the ball, and even if she resisted for longer, she was well-within Petal Breeze’s zone of the field, who would soon be by to assist her teammate. Flitter's options were few: Lily Blossom had Ms. Cirrus covered, her twin sister Cloudchaser was on the far side of the pitch, and Ms. Hooves was on the other side of Reggie. Rainbow Dash was rushing to cover Thunderlane, who made a double-move on Stormbringer and came free, even if for only a few seconds. Just getting the pass off in time, Flitter kicked the ball to Thunderlane, who promptly sent the ball to Ms. Hooves. She took off full-speed toward the goal.

Cloud Kicker adjusted to interrupt her path. Muffins bore an undaunted grin as she blazed onward, knocking the ball just up enough to go over Cloud Kicker’s reach as she veered inside the defender. The other fullback, Sugar Grapes, would not get there in time, leaving just Twilight and Feathermay between her and a goal. The princess felt a confident grin curl over her lips, seeing the drive from her friend, the “fire in the belly” as coach liked to call it. Keeping a teleport spell on standby, the princess angled her approach to circumvent Muffins from approaching the goal on the close side. Suddenly, Muffins dipped down, altering the approach to be a shot from below. Twilight reversed as the gray mare knocked the ball forward with her forehooves and wound up with her rear-left, and sent a shot. In a flash of purple, Twilight appeared in the lower-right corner of the goal, in line with the bend...which didn’t come: the shot was straight! Feathermay dove and barely got a hoof on it, knocking the shot under the goal. A watching ref blew her whistle and pointed to the corner on the far side from Muffins’ position, then took the ball there.

Sassaflash hurried to send the corner kick as ponies from both sides of the scrimmage rushed to the penalty box. Several different pairs of wings flapped against each other as Sassaflash held a hoof aloft, then smashed her rear right hoof into the stormball. The ball arced and bent slightly toward the goal, passing toward the middle of the penalty box. Muffins flapped up and went for the header, but wasn’t alone. An oddly-shaped flash of white washed part of the left side of her vision, along with a dull clunking noise and the sharp, localized pain of two heads crashing together. She yelped as a flash of magenta in front of her was the last thing she saw before she clenched her eyes closed from the throbbing beneath her left ear and eye. Yowling burst from the owner of the other involved head.

Ooh...I heard that back here.

“Ahhh…!! My eye!!” howled Wind-Sailor, cradling the right side of his face.

Ms. Hooves opened her own eyes to see, with great relief, no blood. Wind-Sailor lowered his hooves for a moment, rapidly blinking. His right eye was terribly bloodshot and watering like crazy as his lower lip quaked. The stallion inhaled a hiss. Muffins sputtered on the edge of panic, “I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! Oh my Celestia, I didn’t mean to get you!”

Wind-Sailor gasped, “I know, I’ll be okay. I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.”

Putting both forehooves on his shoulders, her face and voice both uneasily pleaded, “Are you sure? I just feel awful about that hit!”

After a few pained blinks, the stallion answered, “Muffins, I’ll be fine. These things happen during the game. Don’t worry yourself.”

The medics arrived, checking Wind-Sailor. His vision seemed okay, but the medics insisted on giving him a few minutes respite, and refused his refusal to sit down for a few. The team looked for the ball, and pieced together what occurred: both Ms. Hooves and Wind-Sailor went to head the ball, but the princess teleported along the trajectory of the corner kick and sent the ball down the pitch, where Flitterheart had it and not much between her and her Strikers. Coach waved out Ms. Cirrus to balance out a lack of a wingback with a lack of midfielder as play resumed.

Flitterheart passed it to Petal Breeze, who took the ball up the pitch. Dash veered around Sunny Rays, confusing the fullback. Windy Clouds and Thundercracker closed in. Petal Breeze passed the ball as Dash broke off from boxing out the defender. Winding up her right back leg, she started to kick at the ball, but knocked it to her right with her forehoof. Petal Breeze was already inbound towards the ball at full speed as Blossomforth arrested her momentum. The smaller mare took a hard shot toward the upper, away corner, just to be foiled by the Pranceton goalie as well, this shot also caught.

Really!? Like, really-really?! How does she do that?!

Rainbow Dash groaned loudly, spinning around in frustration. She turned to Blossomforth and said, “I’m totally cool with having an awesome goalie like you on the team, but you’re making practicing against you so aggravating!”

Patting Dash on top of her head, Blossomforth answered, “Just doing my job.”

The mock game continued. A few ponies got careless and kicked a meteor, then were swiftly reminded that Bicycle Kick did tell them from the beginning the wing sprint total would not just disappear after lunch. Not long after that, Ms. Hooves got shoved while trying to control a pass, which let a stone drop. Nopony was pleased, but one young Mr. Stormbringer did his best to play innocent. Sixty-three wing sprints later, Muffins heard the grumbling directed at her again, just as brazen, just as mean-spirited, but skirting around one particular word. While this did not leave her in heaving sobs, the wall-eyed pegasus was not in a good space after hearing the remarks or seeing the ears flattened at her. The mailmare returned as the athlete was lost to her inner turmoil and self-ridicule. Her shots became worse. Between the wing sprints, the injury, and all the out-of-bounds balls, they had twenty minutes of stoppage time. Anypony who came by to watch, whether from the same aerial level or the ground, quickly gathered how much Bicycle Kick wore them out. The end of stoppage time was met with nearly everypony collapsing on the lower cloud layer, gulping down air as fast as they could. Bicycle Kick had seen the illegal push, much to Stormbringer’s chagrin, and had him do another sixty-three wing sprints for causing the others the pain.

Rainbow Dash found Ms. Hooves during halftime. “Hey Muffins.”

Ms. Hooves wheezed, “Hey Dash. I haven’t been this out of breath in a long time. Never thought I’d miss having conditioning practice.”

Dash gave understanding laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

Muffins, though, gawked at her incredulously. “What are you talking about? You’re always flying all over the place, Dash! And those aerial stunts you like to practice! You should be in great shape!”

“Great shape, yeah, but professional athlete kind of great shape? I doubt that. If I had to guess, only Blossomforth comes close,” answered Dash flatly.

“True, but I get the feeling you didn’t come here to talk about feeling winded,” said Muffins in the tone of calling out somepony else.

Rainbow Dash shook her head. Directly, but with care in her voice, she said, “No. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ve had worse bumps on the head than that.”

Dash shook her head again, this time doing the same with her forehooves. She said, “I’m not talking about when you both went for the header. I heard them grouching about you again, even though that stone wasn’t your fault. Even coach saw that.”

Sighing, Ms. Hooves sadly said, “None of that takes away their words, nor does them apologizing.”

“You have to learn how to deal with it. Either let it roll off your back or use it for motivation, like we do when coach gets on us!” said Rainbow, putting a hoof on Ms. Hooves’ shoulder.

Muffins looked down, saying nothing. Dash rubbed her friend’s shoulder with the hoof already there. Quietly, the wall-eyed pegasus admitted, “The difference between theirs and coach’s nasty words is that I know coach doesn’t mean those things, but they do. I know you’re giving me a good idea. The incessant cruelty in school started with my eyes, and then moved on to that I never did well at most subjects and almost every report card, I struggled to get a D in history. I’m just no good at memorizing, but everypony else in my class seemed to have no problem with it. I was able to let it ‘roll off my back’ for awhile, but I couldn’t keep their words out forever.”

Oh my gosh, Derpy, you’re gonna make me cry.

Dash looked crushed at this revelation. She looked her friend in the face and said, “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that, and that they did that to you. But you have to be tougher than their words.”

“Even a mountain of the toughest stone will be reduced to gravel if they pick at it enough,” said Ms. Hooves with a grimace.

I really shouldn’t be calling her “Derpy” in my own thoughts, if she’s not ready for me to call her that aloud. I don’t want to say something that’d upset her; she’s been through too much as it is.

Bicycle Kick shouted over the others, “Last call for water before we begin the second half!”

“We’d better get some hydration. Cramps and charlie-horses suck,” said Muffins matter-of-factly.

Dash nodded. “They totally do.”

Team B got the ball to start the second half. Thunderlane sent the ball back to Ms. Cirrus, who started forward. Suddenly, Muffins ducked inside of Petal Breeze and pressed forward. Puffy returned the ball to Thunderlane. The smaller mare knocked the ball above the midfielder and crossed her to his right. Ms. Hooves was advancing on the fullbacks as Thunderlane passed between the wingbacks. Muffins stayed with Twilight, a hoof on the princess to keep tabs on the Sweeper. Cloud Kicker and Sugar Grapes closed in on the opposing Striker, and Rainbow Dash from behind. Muffins motioned upwards with her free hoof, and Thunderlane complied with his pass. Twilight, unable to safely teleport with Ms. Hooves still in contact, started rising for the ball. Then the wall-eyed mare pushed off and zipped up in some wild whirling of her hooves and wings. Twilight gasped, “Ms. Hooves, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Excited, the gray pegasus answered, “Yeah! Check this out!”

Oh?

“Wha...??” was all the baffled princess could manage right then.

Twisting as she rose, Ms. Hooves whipped her hind legs around, connecting with the ball. The shot came mostly downward, and then it started to bend. Then again. And again. Her shot spiraled! Everypony on the pitch, even the coach, gasped. But it was descending too sharply; she didn’t get it enough toward the goal. Twilight was taking too long to calculate its trajectory as it sunk. On one arc, the ball swerved very, very close to the edge of the goal, close enough that members of both groups asked among themselves if it broke the plane of the net, just above the goal’s bottom. The spiral did not pass that close again as it smacked against the lower cloud layer. Everypony stood agape, except Ms. Hooves, who simply hung her head. Several flew down, examining the outer, lower edge of the goal, and attempting to trace the ball’s path with their hooves. Bicycle Kick broke the silence. “Feathermay, did that shot break the plane of the net?”

The goalie looked down at the goal, then the ball, then back to the goal, and hesitantly replied, “I...I don’t think it quite did.”

Bicycle Kick grumpily yelled, “Then you ponies know what to do! Sixty-eight, let’s go!”

Profanity intermixed with the grouching this time, much louder than usual. Few ears hadn’t flattened on the team. Ms. Hooves shrank as Rainbow Dash flew up to her, grumbling, “That came too close to call. I think that shot was genius.”

“Success is the thin line that separates genius from madness, Dash,” said Muffins, face and voice laden with disappointment.

Dash patted her on the shoulder encouragingly. “Eh, don’t be stupid and call yourself mad. You’re just rusty, but with—”

Dash stopped midsentence, seeing the horrified, pained look on Ms. Hooves’ face, tears forming in her eyes. Barely audible, she uttered, “What...??”

…shit. How could you’ve let that slip? You know she’s hypersensitive about that word!

Dash’s eyes widened at the sudden realization. She quickly pleaded, “No, I never meant that word, and never would; I was just—”

Tears were flowing freely from Muffins’ eyes. “How could you say that about me!?”

Oh no. No, no, no. That was the worst thing I could’ve said. I can’t stand hurting other ponies! Please let me take it back!

Dash felt tears beginning to well up in her own eyes, begging the other mare, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking before I spoke, and—”

Through a heaving sob, Muffins shouted, “I thought you were my friend!!”

Oh, Celestia, no. You’re my friend; I never meant for that to come out! Please...!

Choking up, Rainbow started, “Muffins, I—”

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!!” screamed Ms. Hooves as she flew off at a blazing speed, her crying nearly in howls. Rainbow Dash felt her shoulders slump as a tear rolled from her eye and fell from her cheek. She looked around, seeing and feeling the uneasy stares from everypony else on the team. Turning towards her coach, she found Bicycle Kick looked halfway between worried and ready to rip her a new one. Spike also looked a bit deflated. The bubble sitting there, the one Ms. Hooves gave Dash, just then popped.

You really stuck your hoof in it this time, Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow sunk to the lower cloud layer, shoulders drawn, eyes down, face down, ears down, tail tucked. Her chest lurched, and she began to look a little green around the gills. Bicycle Kick tapped her on the shoulder. Instead of angry yelling, his voice was disappointed, the kind just above a whisper that most kids break down and cry when they hear it from their parents. “You don’t look okay, Dash.”

Even Dash’s voice was wracked with guilt. “No sir. I’m not.”

I didn’t deserve the Element of Loyalty. No way, if I could say that to my friend.

Bicycle Kick shook his head slowly, never taking his eyes of Rainbow. He continued in the same tone of voice, “Take the rest of the day off. Get yourself better and be back at the same time tomorrow morning. I can’t lose both of you.”

Sounding more like she was trying to convince herself more than him, she started, “Sir, I’ll be back to—”

“Might not want to mistake it for a suggestion,” interrupted the elderly coach, firmer than before.

“Yes sir,” weakly answered Dash, her stomach and chest lurching again.

“And think about what you said, and what that did to her.” Dash looked up at Bicycle Kick. His face was exactly as his voice sounded, just more so. Unblinking, with no hint of joy, of pity, or of forgiveness, his tone hardened again.

“Get yourself gone.”

After Practice

“Call me paranoid if you want. I’d rather waste the bits when we didn’t need to, than pinch the bits when we needed to spend,” grouched Spitfire as she went over a ledger with quite a bit of red ink in its most recently completed columns.

Spitfire and Fleetfoot sat on a couch, and Soarin’ on an ottoman, in a well-furnished living room. On the wall was a framed, art deco style Wonderbolts poster that had yellowed some around its edges. Most of the décor revolved around the Wonderbolts, though over the sidebar there was also a family portrait featuring an older mare and stallion, two younger stallions, and a college-aged Spitfire, all pegasi. A short wall was behind each sofa, with two Doric columns joining each wall to the lofted ceiling, around the edge of a domed sunroof. In the middle lay a broad coffee table, covered in official-looking paperwork; some of it was stacked, some of it in folders, and the rest strewn, but a hefty portion of it bore Wonderbolts letterhead.

Soarin’, also holding a ledger, looked over his glasses at Spitfire. “Don’t get me wrong, ma’am, our First Duty is our First Duty, but are you sure we need to do this much? The bill is getting to be higher than The Derby’s costs, without the ticket sales to reimburse us.”

With a huff, she rebuked, “Stop exaggerating.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Fleetfoot was placing a number of checkmarks on an open page in a different daybook, and dropped the pen with an unhappy sigh. “All hyperbole aside, he’s got a point. This will put us well-over budget.”

Spitfire slapped down the ledger angrily, with her pen just afterwards. Nickering irritably as she took off her glasses, she sat back, looking up through her sunroof a moment. Then turned back to the others and vented, “Why did the game have to be this Saturday!? What’s wrong with Sunday? It’s not like we’re interrupting or competing against any FISA broadcasts, and we wouldn't have to be so many places at once! Hell, we could have it wait six weeks and we’d only just then start getting preseason games.”

“I’m just glad Her Majesty of the Night didn’t want us to do a show. Then we’d really be up a creek,” said Soarin’ as he flipped through a few more pages.

“Surprise knows her way around Detrot pretty well. I’m sure she’ll keep Princess Luna from the rough spots,” Fleetfoot said, looking over her checkboxes again.

Spitfire sat forward. She made sure to look both of them in the eye before speaking. “It’s not her going to the rough spots that worries me, you two. It’s the rough spots coming to her, which Surprise might not recognize. Tell me, would either of you know what to look for, if a few Elevens came down the street in plainclothes?”

Soarin’ pursed his lips before shaking his head. “Sorry, nope.”

Fleetfoot sighed long and annoyed, flopping back into the cushions. She turned her head towards the captain, suggesting, “I think that was the point, ma’am, for them to just blend in.”

“Hmm....” Soarin’ stood up, tapping his chin with his left forehoof. Spitfire and Fleetfoot exchanged glances at each other before turning to the pensive stallion, hoping he’d soon get on with whatever thought clogged his synapses. Rocking his head side to side, he muttered, “Wait....”

Grinning, Fleetfoot teased, “Careful thinking that hard, Soarin’. Your brain isn’t used to so much exercise; it’ll be sore tomorrow.”

Spitfire nudged the other mare in the side. Soarin’s face made it abundantly clear he didn’t find this funny at all, sardonically replying, “Har har.”

“Once you’re done with the foalishness, we can move on. At least pretend to be professional,” Spitfire scolded in mothering tones.

“Sorry.”

“Try not to forget it this time,” commanded Spitfire. Turning with a slow inhale, she said to her second-in-command, “But Soarin’, you sounded like you had an epiphany?”

“What are the chances Dave’s an Eleven?” asked Soarin’, still in thoughtful consideration.

Spitfire mulled it over briefly before responding, “Not good, but not zero, either.”

Fleetfoot responded in a nuance as belittling as the class jerk would if somebody asked an arithmetic question in collegiate calculus. “I think your train of thought derailed at the station.”

Soarin’ flattened his ears and glared at Fleetfoot before shaking his head as he got up and paced around the rom. Spitfire’s face was also miffed as she turned toward the lisping mare. “This kind of crap is exactly why Soarin’ got the nod as my first officer and not you, Fleetfoot. I can’t always tell if you’re teasing or not, and either way, talking like that is unbecoming of your rank. Being firm and making calls others don’t necessarily like, doesn’t mean you have to be brusque about it. Don’t be a bitch, be the bitch. There’s a huge difference.”

“Sorry that I was too blunt, but I still think it sounds like he’s really reaching,” replied Fleetfoot with little more than a hint of legitimate apology.

Still irked, he countered, “It’d go a long, long way towards explaining why he pushed for playing all those national teams, the delight he took in beating them, and wanting this last, encore game, with all the emphasis he’s put on beating Her Highness.”

Fleetfoot answered, this time sounding more like disagreeing with a friend than needing to be right, “With what Chris told us at lunch? I think that’s beyond the purview of even the Elevens.”

Spitfire nodded and said, “Which is why I thought it’s unlikely. Ponyville’s about the happiest place in Equestria; there’s been nothing reported there to even suggest they are operating there at all.”

“But you still ordered a clandestine squad to be on active duty there. I think all of them made the cut for Bicycle Kick’s team,” Fleetfoot said a little confused.

Spitfire gave Fleetfoot a sharp look. “We will perform our duties at all times. And yes, they did. I gave them the order to see to it they’re up there. No word yet on who’s picked to start.”

Soarin’ said, “She’s disappeared on them more than once, what with all the teleporting.”

“Not happy about that, either. I guess being the ‘Princess of Friendship’ means she’s to remain more approachable. I’ve heard from several reports that she refused a guard detail. While following the guards makes it easy to find Their Majesties whenever they go anywhere, no such luck there. It’s part of why this game worries me,” said Spitfire.

“How long have you suspected him?” Soarin’ asked directly.

Spitfire snorted, “Since he first started talking about taking on national teams, making it clear he wanted their leaders to be there and see their best lose to us.”

Fleetfoot clicked her tongue annoyed. Looking from one to the other and back, she said, “In all fairness, that’s not how he put it.”

“Take all the niceties out of his spiel, and that’s what was left,” corrected Soarin’. “We still have this issue of presence to solve. We’ll still need to activate some reservists this weekend. We just don’t have the numbers if we don’t.”

Sounding annoyed of rehashing, Spitfire grumbled, “And probably move some to active duty permanently. We will not forsake our First Duty.”

“And we’re going in circles again: I still think that’s doing too much, and either way, we’ll be in the red,” grouched Soarin’ in exasperation. He then muttered just loud enough to be heard, “Sure going through a heap of trouble over what’s supposed to be a friendly game.”

Fleetfoot picked up the ledger Spitfire threw down earlier. Her eyes widened at the last several columns on the right. Worried, she asked, “You didn't say it was this bad! How quickly can we put together a show, just to recoup some of these costs? We’ve already missed two, thanks to the tour.”

Spitfire tapped on the table a moment, then looked up at her second officer. “Give me ten days. I’ll have a few venues in mind that’d bring in enough revenue to get us back in the black before the accountants start asking too many questions.”

“I think Baltimare is still unhappy about the cancellation,” Soarin’ said as he sat back down, picking up his ledger again.

With a partially stifled grin, Spitfire said, “That wasn’t one of the places.”

A knock came at the door. Soarin’ got up and looked through the peephole. He turned back to the others and flicked his left wing. Spitfire and Fleetfoot quickly but nonchalantly gathered up select certain papers from the desk and tucked them under others while Soarin’ opened the door to meet David Buckham, looking pleasant. The older stallion’s eyes found the paperwork on the coffee table, and asked, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Just going over official Wonderbolts business,” Spitfire answered indifferently. She continued in a more amiable voice, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Cheerfully, Buckham offered, “I was just talking with Tom and Cometeer. We’re hoping you three could join us at The Thirsty Storm after practice this evening.”

“I assume you mean after getting cleaned up first,” teased Soarin’, grinning.

Shaking his head amused, Buckham snickered, “Thought that went without saying.”

“I don’t drink,” said Fleetfoot. She locked eyes with Buckham, letting her lids slide down a bit with a coy grin, as she playfully continued, “I prefer to see what’s going on, rather than feel like my eyes are filled with mist.”

Spitfire elbowed Fleetfoot in the ribs hard. Soarin’ quickly covered, “Great! Somepony has to be the designated!” and successfully drew Buckham’s attention before Fleetfoot rubbed her side, wincing.

“I like your thinking, chap,” answered Dave, clapping Soarin’ on the shoulder. “So we’ll see you there at nine?”

Spitfire answered, “Make it nine-thirty. I’d rather look my best when I’m out on the town.”

“Most excellent. We’re looking forward to this. See you soon!” said Buckham very delighted, and with a gracious bow.

The older stallion left, looking genuinely happy. Soarin’ closed the door, and trotted over to the others. He continued looking at the door for a few seconds, before turning to Fleetfoot with an agitated expression. Spitfire’s was no friendlier as she began, “What the hell was that, with the saucy eyes?”

“He doesn’t need to know I can drink you two under the table,” answered Fleetfoot, feigning innocence.

Scoffing, Soarin’ retorted, “Were you trying to tip him off? ‘Cuz that’s where your words were!”

Spitfire snapped, “Since when were you the kind to want a sugar daddy? Seriously, if you really wanna try to pounce him, have fun dealing with his wife! And if you’re gonna try to provoke him out of subterfuge, wait for the game. I’d rather him try something stupid there, where we’ll have the upper hand. I don’t want to make him think we’re onto him, ‘cuz then he’d wait to act once we’re not around at all.”

Fleetfoot rubbed her side again, then said, “He seemed like his old self right then, the old colt we met in late winter who wanted nothing more than to be back on the pitch.”

“Yeah. It’s too bad. I really don’t want to believe he’s up to no good, but we’re starting to get more than just gut feelings now,” lamented Spitfire.

Fleetfoot nodded sadly. She then looked at a wall clock, and said, “It’s getting pretty close to time. I still need to grab a few things to get ready. And prepare for a fun, fun dry night at the bar. Go me.”

With some intermittent snickering, Soarin’ said, “It’d be perfect. We won’t have to watch you make out with some random stallion, or stallions, or have to drag you away from something you seriously regret when you call one of us in the small hours.”

Fleetfoot griped, “You’re never gonna let me forget the one night that happened, are you?”

“Nope, because of how much it screwed up my day after. My brother still gives me a hard time about trying to get his little filly back to sleep,” joshed Soarin’, before turning resolute. “In all seriousness, though, take notes of anything weird. With a little bit of luck, he’ll start blabbing once he’s had a few.”

Spitfire smirked and added, “Eh, he’s a Limey. It’s gonna take more than a just few, but you’re right. We’ll keep buying him drinks and try get him to lower his guard.”

Rainbow Dash slowly opened the door to her house, still looking crestfallen. She stopped by the half-bath attached to her foyer, rinsed out her mouth and spat something a bit orange into the sink. Dash trudged through her house. She found her bedroom, and plopped onto her place of sleep, still outright glum.

Why, Dash? Why did you have to pick that word? You could’ve picked just about anything else under the sun, and everything would be totally all right!

Rainbow sobbed once, then rolled onto her back, eyes closed, face still screwed up with guilt and self-loathing. She lay there a few moments, before her eyes opened, still misty.

Never do anything small, do you? Either you’re totally awesome for everypony to see, or totally not awesome. Nothing inbetween.

Dash felt a nudge. Turning, she met the smiling face of Tank. Wrapping both forelimbs around her beloved pet, she let out another wave of small sobs. The tortoise simply nuzzled her in response. Getting control of her breathing again, she started, “Oh Tank, why can’t I be more like you? I said something terrible, and feel terrible about it. You never say or do anything that’d hurt anypony.”

Tank nuzzled her again. She hugged him tightly, whispering, “You’re such a pal, always there. Well, except in winter, but that’s not your fault.” She grimaced at a slight pain, a jabbing poke in her chest, then noticed he still had his helicopter attachment. A sad smile to herself at her own forgetfulness, and she continued, “Guess I showed my true colors back there. Always thinking about myself and nopony else. Some loyal friend I am. I feel like such a cruel, heartless bitch.”

Tank pulled himself up to looking her in the face. He looked her in the eye, and very deliberately shook his head no. Then the tortoise turned, firing up the magic-powered rotary wing and buzzed out of the room. Dash cried, “Where...wait, please don’t go!”

A few tears leaked out, as she despondently muttered, “Please don’t leave....”

But I deserve it. After what I said, I can’t blame him or anypony else for not wanting to be my friend. Who would?

Face downward, tears started to flow with some choked sniffles. She wiped away the tears, which were then promptly replaced. The cyan pegasus flopped down on the bed, all strength in her limbs gone. The tears had stopped for the moment, but still she lay there limp, getting a good close look at the four-metre square rug and its expertly knotted tufts.

Never looked this closely at a rug before. I couldn’t stand making one of these. That has to be a dreary life, tying the exact same small knots day in and day out. One of these would have to take years to make, and it’s not very big. Maybe a skillful unicorn could get it done quicker, but still. How long for the runner carpets in the halls? The one in the parlor’s pretty good-sized, too. And you just walk on all of them without a second thought, another shining example of your deep concern about the feelings and struggles other ponies, Dash.

She continued laying there, lazily blinking. A buzzing sound came from the hall. Dash looked towards the door as it grew louder. The mare found the strength to raise her head as Tank came back into the room with a strawberry in his beak. Forcing energy back into her limbs, she pushed herself fully onto the bed as Tank hovered in her direction and set himself down beside her. He dropped the fruit, and pushed it over to her. She furrowed her brow, asking, “For me?”

He nodded. She gave the berry another perplexed stare, and inquired, “Isn’t this from your food dish?”

Another nod. “You want to give me your food?”

Tank gave the same affirmation as before. Tears started welling up in the pegasus’s eyes as she asked, “Even after what I said today?”

Her pet nestled up against her, nodding one more time. And Rainbow Dash cried. The minutes flew by as the waterworks came out. Her thoughts came to her in broken chunks over the course of about two hours, piece by piece, coalescing into a single notion:

You would not be this tore up by your actions and her reaction if you weren’t worthy of your Element.

A large damp spot on her blanket and a wet, steadfast companion by her side is what Dash had to show for herself. Nopony could claim she was over it, or even close, but at least she wasn’t feeling so guilty that she risked puking a second time. She looked to Tank, and quietly said, “Thanks for being there for me.”

Her pet simply smiled at her. Rainbow’s stomach roared, loud enough that Tank turned to look at her belly. Shaking her head with a smile, she muttered, “You were right, I should get something to eat.”

Rainbow Dash landed in the middle of town as the sun neared the western horizon. While the farmer’s market was closed and packed up, Sugarcube Corner was still open.

Maybe something fluffier would be wiser than a greasy hay burger, and I really don’t feel like ponying up for the café.

Looking at Twilight’s castle, she thought aloud, “I’ll talk to her after I’ve had a little something. It’s a friendship problem, isn't it? This sort of thing should be right up her alley.”

Upon entering the little bakery, Dash was accosted by living, breathing bubbliness. “Hiya Dashie! I thought you’d still be at practice flying longer than most birds do daily during migration while you're being screamed at by that mean old stallion who never leaves a tip and demands you all perform at a higher level than most college teams do and work more than anypony in their right mind would ask for a friendly game, but I’m still happy to see you! I’ve never seen stormball played before so Saturday will really exciting and a chance for the Cakes, Bon-Bon and Greasy Mack to get their names out there among ponies who've never been to Ponyville and really crank up their sales by running some concession stands which means I’ll have some long hours this weekend and rush like crazy to be three places all at once the whole way through, but it’ll be great! What can I get for ya?!”

Dash needed a moment to let the torrent of syllables resolve into words and coherent sentences, albeit run-ons, before she asked, “Any lemon poppy seed left?”

Pinkie cocked her head to one side, and asked in slower, sympathetic tones, “What’s wrong, Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow’s shoulders drooped again. “Is it that obvious?”

“Duh, you’ve never ordered a muffin before, there wasn’t much spring in your step, you were looking more at the floor than at me, and the way you let your tail drag isn’t like you,” answered Pinkie matter-of-factly. “So...what’s wrong? Aunt Pinkie’s here to help, even if it’s just being an open ear.”

Dash looked down as she shook her head guiltily. “I really hurt somepony’s feelings. Really bad. I feel just awful.”

“Why would you do that??” asked Pinkie in shock and sadness.

Sighing, Dash confessed, “I wasn’t thinking before I spoke. I was trying to encourage somepony after they messed up on something, the whole ‘don’t let your mistakes compound themselves,’ as my dad used to say.”

Pinkie pursed her lips, looking more angry than sad. This showed up in her voice as well. “Does this have something to do with the ‘just leave me alone’ we all heard right about lunchtime?”

“You heard that down here?”

Nodding somewhat condescendingly, Pinkie informed Dash, “Uh, yeah, even Applebloom heard it out at Sweet Apple Acres and was asking about it earlier when she met up with Sweetie Bell and Scootaloo this afternoon. What did you say to Derpy?”

Rainbow started, “Um, you shouldn’t call her—”

With her inflection turning harsher, Pinkie interrupted, “I’m one of the ponies she lets use that nickname. What did you say to her, Dash?”

Mrs. Cake stepped out from behind the back doorway to take a spot at the counter, tallying something. Dash sighed and closed her eyes. She felt the tears welling up again and the lump in her stomach returned, wrecking her appetite. Sadly, she said, “Something I shouldn’t have. Something that came out wrong because I wasn’t thinking.”

“This something didn’t start with ‘stu’ and end with ‘pid,’ did it?” accused Pinkie, starting to sound, of all things, hostile. Mrs. Cake dropped the pencil, her eyes fixed on Pinkie and Rainbow, her countenance full of alarm.

Dash slowly nodded as a tear slipped out. Opening her eyes, she feebly and solemnly said, “It did.”

With a glower, Pinkie Pie’s curly mane and tail fell flat as her coat visibly dulled. A slow, angry sigh left her nose. Mr. Cake started coming out from the backroom, with a bottle to his baby daughter’s mouth. He went wide-eyed at the scene as Mrs. Cake motioned for him to retreat, which he swiftly obeyed. Lyra and Bon-Bon came into the shop giggling, but stopped when they saw the angry pink mare, and hastily backpedaled out the door. Pinkie advanced on Dash, speaking slowly in her lower register, sounding threatening. “Rainbow Dash....”

“I said exactly the wrong thing, I know,” lamented Rainbow, her tears starting to pick up speed.

“No, you don’t know,” fired back the livid pink pony. “You don’t know what bullying does to a pony. You don’t know how much flak she took daily. You don’t know the agony of constant ridicule when you did nothing to those others. You don’t know the pain she still feels every single day from that. You don’t know what it’s like to have your self-esteem shattered. You don’t know how a single word can bring back years of unhappiness in a single instant. You don’t know trauma. You just don’t know, Rainbow Dash. Don’t pretend that you do.”

Starting to cry in earnest again, Dash sputtered, “Believe me, if I could turn back time, I would immediately go back to this afternoon and—”

“But you can’t. Nopony can, not even Princess Celestia. What’s said, is said,” declared Pinkie firmly and angrily. “Only actions speak louder than words. Stop talking, stop wishing, start doing.”

Looking down, the cyan mare began, “But how do I—”

Pinkie snatched Rainbow Dash by the ear, giving it a grandmotherly twist as she dragged her flinching friend towards the counter. Mrs. Cake quickly stepped through the open doorway as the two drew near. Pinkie furiously ordered, “You are going to Twilight’s castle. Derpy is there right now, as she usually is at this time, working on something with Twilight.”

Pinkie let go of Dash’s ear when they reached the counter, stuffing a collection of different muffins into a paper bag, many of which were the last of a given batch for the day. Rubbing her tweaked ear, Rainbow began, “What? What’s Twilight—”

“You will see when you get there. Give her these to start,” interrupted the fuming Pinkie, thrusting the paper bag at Dash. She also pushed a single muffin on a paper plate at her, continuing, “And here’s your lemon poppy seed. Now start doing.”

“But—”

“They’re on the house!” snarled Pinkamena. Rainbow stood mystified as one does when unable to process past feeling shocked.

The fury in Pinkie’s eyes disintegrated into great sadness, as did her voice. “If I thought you actually meant that word, Dash, I don’t know how mad I would get. I was her first friend when she came to Ponyville, and the only one she talked to for three months. Derpy lived here close to a year before she had a second real friend, or let me see her real self. She still tells me I’m one of her closest confidants. I love her dearly, and can’t stand to see her hurting.”

Pinkie paused, and held eye contact with Dash. She nodded slowly, then Pinkie finished, “She’ll probably still be furious with you, but you need to try anyway. Now get to the castle.”

Rainbow Dash walked in the front door of Twilight’s palace, looking around cautiously. A light shined from an open door somewhere down the upstairs hallway, but otherwise the castle was about as dark as expected at sunset. There were also voices, but too far away to be clear. Dash closed the door behind her and fluttered up the stairs, bag in one hoof, and the now empty plate in the other. Reaching the upper level, she saw Spike walking down the hallway. The light was at least five doors down the corridor.

Spike stopped when she got close, and said, “Hi, Rainbow Dash. I thought I heard the front door. Here, I’ll take the paper plate. Why don’t we have a seat by the map and talk about the latest Daring Do book?”

Looking around, Rainbow said, “Thanks, Spike. Is Twilight around? I need to talk to her, the sooner the better.”

“Yeah, about that...you might want to wait,” Spike said with insistent eyes. “I don’t think you going in there right now is a good idea, so...let’s talk about Daring Do in the meantime. I’m not quite as versed as Twilight is, but I can hold my own in a friendly debate.”

“Is Muffins here, too?” broached Dash.

Eyes narrowing, the dragon urged, “Yeah, and that’s exactly why you need to wait! She’s not ready for you to apologize or make amends, Dash! She needs some space before that’ll do any good! Give her time to heal!”

“Pinkie said I needed to go do this right away! I believe you’re giving me the best advice you know, but I have to at least try!” Rainbow insisted as she started down the hall.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you...,” muttered Spike, following behind.

Dash started down the hall with the pastry bag in hoof. She could hear Ms. Hooves talking, but it was indistinct, and all but sounded like a mishmash of random syllables. As she neared the door, she heard Twilight enthusiastically answering, “Wow, I think you’re right! That would make sense, given how the chain rule applies to second derivatives in large matrices like these.” Rainbow began through the threshold, coming into view as Twilight continued, “So, let’s go back to....”

Twilight trailed off. Dash’s ears drooped as Muffins turned; Rainbow’s entire posture pleaded an apology as she held the bag of baked goods. Ms. Hooves’ ears immediately flattened, a scowl riddling her face as she quickly looked away. “Just leave me alone. I’m trying to work on something.”

Choking up again, Dash started to speak as the gathering sobs fragmenting her attempted apology. “I’m deeply...and truly...sorry for—”

“Sorry? You!? I wouldn’t buy that for a bit!” erupted Muffins, eyes flashing with rage as she wheeled around. “You think saying you’re sorry changes anything!? Throw a plate at the ground and tell it you’re sorry; does that makes a damn bit of difference!? No! It’s still shattered! You think ponies are any different!? And DON’T you try to placate me with such a feeble gesture!”

Muffins slapped the bag out of Dash’s mouth clear across the room into the wall on “don’t.” The bag’s smushed contents slid down the wall to the floor. Muffins’ swipe missed Dash’s jaw by less than a centimeter, while she had no pause whatsoever in her rant. “Fourteen-hour old muffins that sat on a display shelf through the heat of midday? They’re dry! I can smell it! Insulting, that you’d try such impertinent peace offering! You really do think I’m stupid, huh!? You even said it yourself! Go on, say it again! ‘Cross-eyed Muffins is just a stupid mare!’ Aren’t I!!?”

Muffins had advanced on Rainbow Dash during her tirade, and was nose-to-nose as her furious breathing heaved her whole torso. Dash couldn’t even slow the crying. Trying to tell Ms. Hooves “No! I never once believed it!” produced little more than a vague squawk followed by tear-filled whimpering as she shrank down from the berserk glare.

Snarling at the edge of losing control, Ms. Hooves turned away from Rainbow, slapping her across the face with her tail. Muffins walked up to the disquieted Twilight. In sadder, markedly quieter tones, she said, “I’m sorry, Twi. My focus is shot. We’ll have to pick this up again later.”

Twilight watched past Ms. Hooves as Dash fell to an uneasy sitting position, emotionally crushed, particularly by her own shame. In understanding yet carefully guarded enunciation, Twilight answered, “Of course. Tomorrow night if you’d like.”

“Thanks. Think I’m gonna swing by Barley Hops’ place on the way home. I could really go for some rum right now; it’s been awhile,” muttered Muffins.

“You worry me when you say things like that.”

“Doc will look after me. He always does on nights like this. Both he and Bridleston’s Seventeenth Recipe have been truer friends than some,” snarked Ms. Hooves as she walked past the defeated Dash and out the door. Not even looking back, she grouched barely loud enough to be understood, “‘Element of Loyalty,’ my aching ass.”

Rainbow Dash fully collapsed into a limp pile of self-reproach, tears leaking out slowly though the sobbing didn’t accompany it this time. Twilight waited for Muffins’ footfalls to fade before walking up to Dash. She censured, “I see you’re starting to notice the damage you caused.”

Emptily, Rainbow croaked, “How did I let that slip out, Twi? How did I get so careless? What’s wrong with me?”

“You lacked empathy and understanding, until now,” said Twilight, rubbing Dash on the withers.

“It hurts, knowing I hurt somepony else,” moaned Dash. “I feel terrible. I can’t believe I did that.”

Nodding, and in mothering yet caring tones, Twilight said, “You should feel terrible. And it’s going to sting for awhile. I’d be more worried if you weren’t reeling this much.”

Rainbow Dash sighed sadly, her head finding its way back to the floor. She stared blankly at the not fully distinct reflection of the ceiling, the gallery’s balcony, and some smudges of similar coloration to displayed paintings. She reproachfully said, “I’m a total doofus.”

“Well, Rainbow, the unvarnished truth of the matter is that you’ve never been good at all when it comes to others’ feelings, and this is the first time I’ve seen you so affected. It’s a rude awakening for you,” said Twilight, pacing around. She stopped and turned back to Dash, continuing in a gentler tone of voice, “Never before have you had to look at how much some loose words could hurt another. Since moving to Ponyville, I’ve heard you say some biting things every now and then to our closest friends, but never anything that cut them to the quick. But now...now you might think more carefully before you speak, because I doubt you want to go through this a second time.”

“Yeah. Once is one time too many,” Dash said joylessly.

The sound of Spike belching in the hallway was immediately followed by him calling for Twilight and running into the room, carrying a scroll. He announced, “Princess Celestia got back to you!”

Delighted, Twilight trotted towards him. “Oh, good! I was rather hoping she'd have some advice. Let me see here...ah! Looks like the Princess is okay with you reading along, too. And she included...a newspaper clipping? What is...huh. Look at the date! This was from thirty-two years ago.”

“Now I'm curious,” Spike said as he went to stand beside Twilight. As the two read the scroll, Dash felt a certain relief that the floor was cool to the touch. Before she could mull over this tidbit or anything else, Spike gasped in shock and horror, “What? No way....”

“That is...pretty horrible,” blurted the alicorn with growing unease.

Shaking his head, Spike said, “No wonder he was all upset with me this morning.”

What happened over three decades ago that has anything to do with falling asleep in a projector room today?

“What he did was uncalled for,” Twilight said firmly as Dash pushed herself up into a sitting position.

Sympathetically, he muttered, “Still can’t help but feel sorry for him and his family.”

Are you going to tell me, or keep talking like I’m not even here?

“Spike, listen to me,” started Twilight. “The things that ponies go through, especially scary events like that, help explain why those ponies do bad things. But, these experiences do not excuse their misdeeds. Bicycle Kick is not absolved for what he did, either.”

“Sounds like you two still upset about the way coach blew his stack during film. I am too,” Rainbow said. “But it sounds like you have something that sheds some light on the subject?”

Twilight Sparkle answered, “I do, but it’s nothing that should be spread around, for his family’s privacy.”

Fine, I can’t really argue with that....

“You sound like you still want to confront him,” Dash said.

“I have this well in-hoof,” answered Twilight firmly.

I hope you really are, ‘cuz...wha...??

Dash’s own thoughts petered out as she looked around the room. In this gallery, one with a distinct lack of artwork, were quite the number of rolling blackboards, all filled in with some writing Rainbow Dash did not understand. The cyan mare’s mouth dropped.

What is all this? It almost looks like a foreign language, but it doesn’t at the same time. Some of it sorta, kinda looks like math, maybe? Where are the numbers?

“Uh...Twi?”

“Yes? Sounds like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Twilight, sounding equal parts confused and concerned.

Dash, though, sounded nothing short of baffled. “What is all this stuff on all these blackboards?”

“This is Ms. Hooves’ work,” replied Twilight, sounding annoyed with Dash again. “She’s studying, and much smarter than she realizes.”

Dash carefully looked over a long series of familiar letters in odd combinations, and some symbols she’d never seen before. She looked to her friend a moment, then back at the closest blackboard. “What is this she’s studying? I can’t make heads or tails of any of it.”

“Math,” was Twilight’s flat reply.

“Uh, are you sure about that?” questioned Rainbow with great uncertainty. She flitted around the room, stopping at different slates, “There’s no numbers on this blackboard. Or that one. Or that one either. I don’t see a single number in here; this can’t be math!”

Amused, Twilight chuckled as she looked at Dash. “Rainbow, this is advanced calculus. Believe me, it’s math, and it’s pretty tough.”

Tough, I don’t doubt. But math? Never seen math like this.

Rainbow Dash cocked her head to the right, her face contorted over something. Then she picked up an eraser from the dust tray, rubbing on the slate.

“What are you doing!?” shouted Twilight, flying up to the upper level.

Dash coolly replied, “Just fixing a mistake. I mean, dx over dy? The d’s cancel out; even I remember that much from school.”

Twilight slapped the eraser from Rainbow’s hoof, garnering a half-angry, half-sad, all confused facial expression. Levitating chalk and replacing what was previously there, she fumed, “That’s a derivative! It was right the first time! Don’t erase anything, please!”

Dash looked down again, shoulder down, and eyes closed as she slowly landed with hints of tears. Twilight’s shoulders slumped, then quickly joined her friend on the lower level. Pulling Dash into a hug, Twilight softly said, “I’m sorry I overreacted. This work is very important to Ms. Hooves; I don’t want to see her all tore up over something else.”

Dash returned the hug and said, “It’s okay, and I'm sorry for the erasing; I shouldn't've touched what I didn't understand. I didn’t want to hurt her at all, and definitely wouldn’t want to do it twice in one day.” The two let go. Dash looked around the myriad of blackboards, and said, “I can’t help but wonder, what got her started on this?”

Spike used some spray to remove something reddish from the wall where the rejected muffins hit. Twilight asked, “Remember the day the Bugbear attacked?”

“Yeah, Twi. I think I have a scar where it bit me,” grumped Rainbow.

“That day, before the Bugbear attacked, she and the good doctor had an interesting talk about how there are natural processes that magic cannot explain,” Twilight said. “She said he put forth the bold claim that these phenomena are ‘where science and mathematics are the real magic.’ She didn’t pay it much mind then, but the talk with him, and that comment in particular, planted a seed in her mind. Now she’s trying to figure out this advanced math. Muffins is making staggeringly fast progress.”

I don’t even know what I’m looking at.

Dash murmured, “So this is math, but is what it even used for?”

“She’s calculating rates of change in wide areas, and volumes under uneven surfaces in said wide areas,” explained Twilight in her typical pleased-when-elaborating tone.

Dash opened her mouth briefly, then closed it again. She blinked at Twilight several times, turned back at the slate, and bewilderedly asked, “What’s the point of calculating that?”

“That’s about Doc’s claim, where magic provides no help in understanding what’s going on,” began Twilight, her inflection growing excited. “She’s learning to predict how weather works, in regions where there are no weather ponies at all.”

That’s impossible! Every weather pony knows without our work the winds and clouds go around all willy-nilly! But, Twi’s so earnest...she’s already shocked me with several revelations this week; what’s one more? If that’s even possible, surely the egghead among eggheads would’ve mastered it years ago!

“But, but this is stuff you already know, right??” Dash asked in shock.

“Dash, look at me,” commanded Twilight in kind but firm tones. “Nopony has attempted this before. I can barely follow half of what you see on these blackboards. She’s making progress, and what you see here is the start of a dissertation.”

“A dissertation? What’s that again?” asked the cyan pegasus, sounding of one trying to remember something.

“A very long, very in-depth research paper—” began Twilight.

“Sounds boring,” Rainbow dismissively interjected.

“—that a pony writes to earn a doctorate.”

Wait, WHAT!!? What in the blue-flying hell is going on!? How much does she really know!? This is unreal!! Is her shrink right, that the bumbling but lovable fool who brings us our mail is nothing more than her defense against her harrowing childhood?! How can anypony mask themselves so well?!

“...you’re kidding,” blurted Rainbow in stunned disbelief.

“No, Dash. I’m not kidding, joking, or exaggerating. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s working towards a PhD. And believe me, I have no doubt she’ll get it. Then you’ll get to call Muffins ‘Dr. Hooves’,” Twilight said. She chuckled for a moment, and exclaimed, “That’ll be confusing at first, with two ponies we can address by the same title at the same time, especially with how much they hang out!”

Spike interrupted the princess's snickering with a simple question, “Then how are we to make it clear who we‘re talking to, if they‘re together so much?”

Twilight laughed, “We‘ll just have to call them the First and Second Doctor!”

Spike turned to the fourth wall, looking equal parts aghast, dubious, and unamused.

Twilight continued laughing at her own silly remark, while Rainbow Dash plunked onto her haunches. She gradually said, “That...that’s totally awesome. She’s gonna be a professor.”

“A professor you called ‘stupid,’ remember?” Twilight abruptly pointed out, eyes fixed on Dash, though her tone had no malice.

Dash gasped in saddened surprise. Her eyes fell and closed, her head drooped again along with her ears, and the tears started anew.

Her defense kept us all out, because she didn’t want to be hurt again. She began letting you in, and not even two days passed before you stabbed her in the heart. Here she has been proving to herself that word isn’t true, doing things you could never have figured out, and you thrust that word in her face. Now she's back to believing it. Why, Dash? Why would you say that to her?

Twilight stood beside Rainbow Dash, hoof on her shoulder. She solemnly said, “I think you now have the whole picture, and the gravity of what you said. Bullied ponies can spend their entire adult lives trying to forget a few moments of their foalhood, and any reminder of those times, especially things like that word, can send them straight back to that pain.”

Dash didn’t budge at all. Rubbing the her shoulder, she gently said, “I know you didn’t mean her any harm. You thought of Muffins as your friend, did you not?”

Dash nodded weakly. “Yeah, Twi. I was really starting to like her.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You know you need to make amends. Tonight was too soon, but it at least showed her that you know you were in the wrong and want to set things right. I honestly don’t know if it can be done, but I’m pretty sure if you try again tomorrow, she’ll perceive you the wrong way, and that will push her beyond your reach. Wait for when the time is right, Element of Loyalty. You will know when.” Dash started to lift her head, but Twilight quickly added, “Don’t tell me when; you already know.”

Dash nodded as she stood up. She hugged Twilight, saying, “Thanks, Twi.”

Twilight answered, “Of course. Now head home and get some sleep; four-thirty gets here quick, and we’ll have got plenty of drills tomorrow.”

Author's Note

The fourth chapter. It's the sort of thing I went through once when I hurt a classmate's feeling badly: everybody reamed me everywhere I went for awhile. It's been too long to remember what I said, or to whom. Never forgot how my actions made others feel, though. :applecry:

The big game approaches. Thanks for reading, and see you next time.

Setting the Stage

Midday had come and gone when the skybus pulled over the Everfree Forest, with Ponyville coming into view. The Friday sky carried a handful of cheery, scattered cumulus clouds and not too much humidity. Twenty-eight pegasi rode the vehicle, including the driver. Two dozen and two were engrossed in their doings. David Buckham and Spitfire, though, were at the front. Buckham’s eyes turned towards Twilight’s castle breaking over the horizon, dwarfing everything else in town, including the Town Hall. A slight growl left his lips. Closing a book, Fleetfoot looked out the front windshield, then turned towards the legendary stormballer. She said, “Chill out, bud. No reason to get upset.”

Grimly, Buckham muttered, “It’s...gaudy. An eyesore, even.”

“Something bothering your eye, is there?” replied Fleetfoot.

A fairly young gray stallion with an orange and sky blue mane and golden eyes peered from around a newspaper, face stern. His eyes joined his ears in pointing directly at Buckham. Across the aisle, at about the same time, a younger pastel yellow mare pulled up her sleep mask, revealing spring green eyes that weren’t in the least asleep to go with her sky blue and white mane; her ears, too, were already turned toward the front of the skybus.

Buckham flatly answered, “Actually, yes: this castle. She spends how many months after her coronation content at the library, and instead of rebuilding that after Tirek, what does she get? A garish, incongruous, oversized palace reminiscent of her library in shape only. I heard that was the Tree of Harmony’s doing, but still, no effort to make it look like it belongs in town with every other building? Every other seat of royalty we’ve seen reflected their people, their architecture, as if to say this is the height of Canterlot, or being Prench, or Umanese, or...I don’t know! It doesn’t bloody look like anything else from anywhere else! It doesn’t fit anywhere!”

“So it’s analogous. So what?” asked Soarin’, sitting beside Fleetfoot, as he closed his newspaper.

“Supposedly she’s the ‘Princess of Friendship,’ at least, that’s her official title,” said Buckham. “Nothing like this obnoxious, huge castle that stands out from everything else in the world to say ‘I’m better than all of you! I’ll pretend to be approachable and your equal so that you have an easier time deluding yourself from what everypony already knows, especially me, so that you can waste my time with inane questions any half-wake foal in kindergarten would already know!’ It’s insulting to the public.”

“Maybe she will redecorate to match the rest of Ponyville, but look at it! How long will that take to set the timber frame around that thing, and then wattle and daub? How many bits would that cost? Shouldn’t that money go to a worthier purpose, like, say, keeping the public bridges in good repair?” objected Spitfire. “Besides, it looks fine as it is. I, for one, won’t argue with the Tree of Harmony.”

“I guess you’re right, matching the Tudor architecture would be a waste of tax money. Doesn’t change that it looks more like it belongs in the Crystal Empire than it does in rural Equestria. I still find the whole thing obnoxious,” Buckham said grimly.

“This isn’t just about the game, is it?” asked Fleetfoot, curbing sounding accusatory for the most part.

The bus fell silent for a few moments as their ride began its descent towards the Ponyville train station. Buckham turned toward Fleetfoot, then down the bus aisle. Most of the retirees were still self-occupying as they had the entire ride, though Flurryfeather gave him a sour look. Up front, Spitfire, Soarin’, and Fleetfoot were watching him closely. A few seats back, Rapidfire had folded up his newspaper as well, and Misty Fly’s sleeping mask was nowhere to be seen; both kept their gaze on him. Further back stood Blaze, a young mare who could be Spitfire’s cousin, her own newspaper folded under her left forehoof. Beside her, though still sitting, was a slightly orange off-white stallion with a strong orange mane, Fire Streak, just as unamused. And standing at the end of the bus was a curly-maned gray stallion, Silver Lining, with his headphones pulled down. All eight Wonderbolts on the bus had their eyes and ears trained upon him.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Buckham said as he looked down. “I haven’t given it much thought. This will undoubtedly be my last time in a jersey on the pitch. I’m not getting any younger. I’m getting too old for the traveling. It’s just hard, letting go of it all.”

“I understand worrying about aging, really I do, I’m right there with you,” sympathized Spitfire, as she went on to ask, "but why carry on about Her Highness’s castle?”

“Equality,” said Buckham sadly, with a growing touch of grimness. “It doesn’t sit well with me, the idea that somepony is inherently better than everypony else and destined all their days to sit above the rest just because of who his or her spouse or parents are, or by some deed that benefited very, very few. Why should anypony lord over the masses for life? The Pferdish chose its leaders among its populace, they served the people for a time and then they select new leaders from its ponies. Looked like a great system to me.”

Chris Reinaldo had gotten up, and put a hoof on Buckham’s shoulder. He spoke softly and gently in his Cavalonian accent. “Da’fid, Eques’tria will not be Pferrrdland, even if their ways look betterrr to you, no? Rrroyalty is the way of the land. I do not believe that will change.”

Buckham looked at his teammate, nodding slowly. “Maybe it should.”

Over the last several days, Rainbow Dash poured her all into practice. Working harder, encouraging everypony, pushing everypony in a gentler way whenever Bicycle Kick’s forceful methods came across as purely punitive. The entire team had been deflated, depressed, and generally down since Muffins departed. In her efforts to raise their morale, Dash found a temporary haven from her own feelings of shame. All her thoughts focused around the game; her entire waking existence dug into stormball. Work, eat, sleep. Work, eat, sleep. Two out of three usually kept the guilt out of her mind. Often in practice she’d hear about what a great job she did, how devoted and faithful she was to her friends and Ponyville, only to be summarily answered by an echo in her mind, ‘Element of Loyalty,’ my aching ass.

Dreamland provided no refuge, but a constant battle of stormball vs. remorse and regret. Thursday night was the worst. The dream placed her on the pitch, in a mock game, where everypony on the pitch became Ms. Hooves, one by one, until she was alone with two dozen of Muffins. On this well-lit, bright white pitch with black sky behind, the grumbling came in her direction:

“Can you believe the nerve of some ponies, saying such heinous things to her friends but still claiming to be loyal?”

“How did we get stuck with such a self-absorbed teammate?”

“Oh my Celestia, she’s selfish.”

“Doesn’t give a crap about anypony else.”

“Why would the Element of Loyalty pick such an unfaithful pony?”

“I’m surprise she hasn’t gone running to Cloudsdale yet.”

And so it went, all from likenesses of Ms. Hooves. The dream wore on and on; not even Princess Luna came to her aid. Every morning she woke up down on herself; Friday morning came with tears. Like the last three mornings, she hoped to see the wall-eyed gray mare show up for practice, that wound had scabbed over, that she would return and play, but bitter taste of bile kept coming up her throat first thing during film. Ms. Hooves, the best hope they had for offense, the only real shot they had at scoring points, did not return. And there was nopony else but Dash to blame.

Just before breaking for lunch, Bicycle Kick gathered his team around him, and announced, “Today there will not be afternoon practice! You are to relax! I have two reasons for this: one, most of you are wound tighter than a drum; that is not the ideal mindset to have when in an actual game! Two, your opponent’s skybus is on the way! While we have film of their games, I do not intend to give them any intel on us! If you are outside, you may encounter some of their team! We will give them no tips, no advice, no hints, no nothing! We will take every advantage we have, because we want a song tomorrow!”

“Yes sir!” answered the team.

So much for keeping my mind at bay today. Has anypony seen her? Nopony has said as much. I hope she didn’t go and...no. Don’t even think that, Dash!

“Just to make sure you all have unwound, I have arranged us all time at the spa after dinner, a massage and sauna,” continued Bicycle Kick, garnering a number of pleased murmurs, particularly from the mares other than Rainbow Dash. “Supper will be served at the same time and we will proceed to the spa immediately afterwards; all the arrangements are already made! This is all so that you have clear minds for tomorrow’s game! If you need more from them to end your worries, get more, but I’m not covering more than a massage and sauna stop! Mane-cuts, hooficures, and everything else are on your own dime if you want them!”

That was unexpected. At least he’s not ordering somepony to touch my hooves; we’d have a problem then.

“One last order of business before we break for lunch. After watching your skills, cohesion, and teamwork improve over this last week, I have our starting line-up!” Bicycle Kick started. The anticipation become palpable as it was Monday as he flipped over a page on his clipboard. “We will begin with a 3-2-2-3 set, and will shift during the game as needed! Goalkeeper, Blossomforth! Sweeper, Twilight Sparkle! Left Fullback, Thundercracker! Right Fullback, Puffy Circus! Left Wingback, Reginald Stormkicker! Right Wingback, Sassaflash! Left Midfielder, Cloudchaser! Right Midfielder, Flitter! Left Wing, Thunderlane! Right Wing, Lily Blossom! And Striker, Rainbow Dash! All subs, be ready at a moment’s notice to switch out when the game is on!”

“Yes sir!” they all responded.

“Forehooves in,” Bicycle Kick commanded. The team obeyed. “We have a song to earn. This is not an impossible task; if it were, I would’ve already walked out long before now. But you can do it! You can win this tomorrow! Believe it in your heart of hearts, and you will make it happen! Ponyville on three!”

“ONE, TWO, THREE, PONYVILLE!!”

As the team dispersed towards the buffet tables, Dash stopped Twilight. The princess asked, “What’s on your mind?”

“Coach said he wanted us to relax. Tuesday, when I came by, Spike offered to talk about the latest Daring Do book. I was wondering if you both would be up for that,” Rainbow said.

“That sounds great! He’ll be delighted! Right after lunch, at my place?” asked Twilight.

“How about Sugarcube Corner? We haven’t been there together in awhile,” replied Dash.

Twilight nodded briefly, and said, “Sure! This’ll be a good time! But right now, let’s eat! We’re already toward the end of the line!”

“Oops. Heh heh. Yeah, let’s.”

Late afternoon approached as Twilight Sparkle, Rainbow Dash, and Spike came out of Sugarcube Corner, all still laughing and smiling. Spike said, “We should do this again more often!”

Twilight chuckled, “Well, Spike, I had no idea you read that much of them! The Last Idol of Ryumachi just came out last week!”

“There’s only so many times I can re-read Power Ponies before they get old, and Hoofball season hasn’t started yet,” Spike said with a giggle.

“This was a good time, except for the spoilers you dropped!” teased Dash jokingly.

“I’ve already apologized twice! Cut me some slack!” complained Spike.

Rainbow just laughed, “It’s okay; I’m just giving you a hard time.”

Twilight said, “Glad you invited him along.”

“Yeah, thanks Rainbow Dash!” Spike added.

The cyan pegasus chuckled, patting the dragon on the back. “Anytime, little guy.”

“Well, I’ve got some paperwork I’ve put off for stormball. I can’t let it sit too much longer,” said Twilight plainly.

Dash nodded. “Ah. I don’t envy you.”

“Oh well, back to budgets, proposals, maintenance, and all the other red tape. Being a princess isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be, but at least I get a break from Reggie,” said Twilight, biting back on some irritation. “Never imagined having a smitten admirer would be so aggravating.”

Rainbow cracked a cheeky grin. She nudged Twilight in the side as she said, “I suppose it’d be a different story, if a certain blue-maned guard for your sister-in-law were here, instead of there?”

Twilight blushed deeply and started looking around at anything else, hastily saying, “Gee, look at the time! I am way behind, and really do need to get that done! See you later!”

Twilight disappeared in a magenta flash. Spike started toward where she was with his claws out, but just dropped them to his sides as he came to a stop. He pouted, “Guess I’ll walk. Had to pay for the extra cupcake somehow....”

Spike trudged his way toward the castle. Dash watched him go for a moment, then looked up. Weather ponies were busily expanding what was their practice field into a proper stadium. A cargo truck brought in slats of glowing wood, that did not fall through the clouds when a workpony haphazardly chucked them from the back of the aerial vehicle. Greasy Mack was already readying his concession stand, laden with saddlebags and leading several others across the glowing boards and up the staircase they made.

That was great, just getting to talk with Twi. Really ought to do that more often. Then we can...huh. Going big, all right. That’s, what, big enough for twenty-five thousand? Maybe more? Really wish Muffins was here for this. We really need her. I really need her...but it’s all your fault, Dashie. In all the times you’ve accidentally said something, or even when you meant to say something bad, you’ve never caused such shock and pain so quickly. How could you be so callous? Muffins hadn’t shown her true self very often for years, and what did you do when she showed you hers? Popped her right where it’d hurt the very most. Oh, Celestia, why?

“Hey Rainbow Dash.”

That mezzo-soprano voice yanked Dash. She turned around to see Spitfire in a white warm-up outfit with red and yellow lettering, smiling at her. Dash nodded weakly as she mumbled, “Hey.”

“Huh. I was expecting confidence, or phony confidence, or maybe even nervousness from you, but depression? What happened?” asked Spitfire.

Shaking her head, Dash lamented, “I screwed up big time.”

“Don’t tell me you were cut from the team!” protested Spitfire, aghast.

“No, not that. I somehow doubt I’d be this upset if that were the case. Not really in the mood to talk about it,” said Rainbow sadly.

The orange mare replied, “Alright, if you say so. Just the same, do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, I think I...wha??” Said Rainbow, trailing off as her eyes focused on Spitfire jacket. On the white windbreaker was an embroidered logo and name, with registered trademark symbol. Dash furrowed her brow as she asked, “You’re sponsored? My alma mater sponsored your team??”

Sarcastically, Spitfire raised a hoof and narrated, “‘Proudly sponsored by the Cloudsdale College of Climate Preparation, the world’s finest school of meteorology and weather control’.”

Dash blinked a few times at this with her mouth slightly parted. Spitfire shook her head annoyed with an eye roll. “That gets unbearably tiresome, let me tell you. But they want us to sound all chipper, and bright, whenever we repeat that, ahem, clever line.”

Frowning, Spitfire looked Dash square in the face. Dash closed her mouth, then just shrugged. She inhaled slightly, paused, and sighed. Rainbow nodded discontentedly as she asked, “Far be it for me to downplay the quality of my education, but why get sponsored by the CCCP, of all places?”

Spitfire looked around. Her eyes stopped on something or somepony a moment. She motioned Dash around the side of the building, who obeyed. Once there, Spitifre took another moment to scan about, then softly said, “There are two reasons: first, the CCCP got their name out there, the world over, looking for prospective students. Second and more to the point, most of the retired stormballers on the team couldn’t afford a trip around the globe.”

“What!?” yelped Rainbow. Spitfire quickly shushed her, motioning downward with her hoof. Dash continued much quieter, “For real? You can’t be serious. McNimbus got over three million bits a year just by himself! How—”

Spitfire interrupted, “Most of them went and lived it up while they still got such large checks, but didn’t plan ahead for when those multi-million bit contracts ran out. They couldn’t keep making the loan payments on those enormous mansions, private locomotives and airships, and so on. Most of them had to sell off those luxuries and begin living modestly, because the economics forced them to. No small number of them are currently looking to land a coaching job or a sponsorship to stay a bit higher on the hog, hoping this tour would get themselves such a contract. But not all of them were so shortsighted. Flurryfeather, Cometeer, and Buckenbauer are still doing pretty well, and so is Buckham, but the others? Not so much. McNimbus, in spite of that payday you mentioned, is nearly broke.”

Dash said, “Speaking of Buckham, I heard something disturbing from Twilight.”

“Yes, I believe Her Highness read my report on the matter,” Spitfire mused. “We’ve noticed, and we’re in position.”

“You are?” asked Rainbow, boggled. Spitfire gestured toward some of the ponies working setting up the stadium. Dash kept looking these ponies over, her face denoting her lack of understanding what the hay Spitfire was on about...then she gasped with wide eyes. They were here, just not in uniform: Wave Chill placed a corner flag, Fast Clip carried several poles to block the stands from the field....

“Oh...I see,” breathed Dash, the moment of comprehension still washing over her voice.

Spitfire stepped forward so that her muzzle was beside Dash’s ear as she hid most of their heads and necks with her wings. Following an imperative grunt from the captain, Rainbow followed suit, finishing the cover. In the near-darkness, Spitfire whispered, “What is the first duty of the Wonderbolts?”

“The safety of the Princesses at all times,” swiftly answered Rainbow in equal quietness.

“Good. Most ponies forgot we’re more than just an aerial stunt team. We are the eyes in the sky that go unseen, and often the first to respond to ponies in distress. But we always keep eyes on the Princesses,” said Spitfire, still softly.

Dash began to say something and was immediately cut off. Spitfire continued at the same volume, “This is privileged information. Reinaldo came to me after he met with Buckham privately Monday night. He said Buckham fumed about Their Majesties effectively having total control over every aspect of our lives, but what really concerned my Cavalonian teammate was what he described as ‘black mist’ seeping from the corners of Buckham’s eyes while he vented. He didn’t like it, and neither do I.”

Rainbow pensively answered, “Huh, ‘black mist,’ you say? The last time I saw anything like that was—”

“King Sombra,” completed Spitifre. “I checked Her Highness’s report about the Crystal Heart, and had other searches looking for other instances. That was the only match.”

“But Sombra was totally disintegrated! I watched it happen with my own two eyes!” said Dash in raspy hushed tones.

“Yes, that was in the report, too, but given the nebulous nature of that ancient evil, it’s hard telling if he was, in fact, completely destroyed,” answered Spitfire.

Dash attempted to respond and was shushed a second time. Spitfire continued in concerned and guarded tones, rather quickly, “We don’t know Buckham’s intentions toward Her Highness, or if this ‘black mist’ has any connection to that or King Sombra or anything else for that matter. Bottom line is we have to watch what he does, especially during this game: he plays Striker, she plays Sweeper, they’re going to come into contact and often.”

Rainbow feigned, “How would you know what position she plays? I don’t—”

“Rainbow Dash,” the orange mare cut in, “did you really think I didn’t have at least a Sub-Lieutenant watching over Princess Twilight at all times? There are active duty Wonderbolts on the Ponyville team, too.”

“Wha...? I had no idea...,” said Dash in disbelief.

Spitfire said, “Which means they’re doing their job well. But keep an eye on Buckham’s actions around her. This report does put his actions a bit outside the realm of the Elevens.”

“The...number is reason for concern?” asked Dash with audible doubt.

“The Elevens are a terrorist cell that we know next to nothing about. They have some belief about one pony race under one Princess, or something to that effect, but they do an exceptional job of staying hidden, both their members and ideas. He may be one of them. We tried a few ways to loosen his tongue, but he always kept himself tight-lipped enough to not warrant immediate action. The game may be a different story. If all the unnecessary roughness falls within the purview of the game and can be reasonably explained by how stormball is played, we’ll have to let it slide. But if even one thing crosses the line towards Princess Twilight, every Wonderbolt present will move to stop him and protect Her Highness,” elaborated Spitfire.

Dash nodded. Spitfire then pointedly said, “Every Wonderbolt. That means you too, Ensign.”

“Ensign?” asked Rainbow Dash, the understanding of the one word and what it entailed coming through her voice in bits and pieces, progressing towards choking up. “Ensign rank is only for...active...oh my Celestia...you’re...are you...?”

“Yes, Ensign. You are being permanently moved from Reservist to Active Duty, with all the rights and responsibilities thereto,” Spitfire said with pride. “Congratulations, we’ll have a proper ceremony when we have time, but for now, your first assignment: you are to keep a clandestine watch over Princess Twilight at all times. Given how tight you two are, this should have little to no interference with your life.”

Dash tried to answer “Yes ma’am!” but a squawk was all that left her throat. She could not contain the happy tears.

I did it...finally, my dream came true!! I’m a Wonderbolt now...ohmigosh, I’m a WONDERBOLT!!!

Chuckling, Spitfire said, “I’ll take that as acceptance. Good. Remember, your assignment is clandestine; nopony else is to know you are a Wonderbolt for now. We’ll talk about your first show after the game. Not a word of any of this outside Wonderbolts or Princess Twilight, Ensign, understand?”

“Yes ma’am...,” sniffled Rainbow Dash, overcome with joy.

Spitfire moved her wings first. She chuckled as she shook her head. Pulling out a kerchief, she mused, “Happy tears every single time. Don’t feel ashamed.”

Rainbow blew her nose and wiped her eyes, still smiling. “Yes, ma’am.”

Spitfire teased, “Oh, pull yourself together, Rainbow Dash! I want you at the top of your game when you’re across from me! You’ll know I’ll perform like I mean it, too.”

Spitfire flew off. Firmly, and mostly to herself, Dash answered, “Yes, ma’am....”

“Oh...my...,” squeaked a demure mare’s voice.

Dash snapped to her right. There stood Fluttershy, Rarity, and Applejack, all three agape, equally stunned, confused, guarded, and slightly embarrassed. AJ asked slowly and carefully, “Is there somethin’ ya wanna share with us, sugarcube?”

“Um...not right now? I will when I can, okay?” answered Dash.

Applejack raised one eyebrow as only she could. “Are ya sure?”

Oh, for the love of...this better not be going the direction it looks like it is....

Rarity protested, “Applejack, so uncouth! She has nothing to be ashamed of! Rainbow, darling, please remember, we’re your friends, and we’ll support whatever decisions you’ve made about how you wish to live your life.”

Goddammit....

Dash shot all three of them an annoyed look as she said, “Are you gals thinking what I think you’re thinking? ‘Cuz if you are, that’s totally not what’s going on.”

Fluttershy meekly offered, “It’s, um, nice, that you and Captain Spitfire have complementary coats....”

Exasperated, Dash fumed, “It’s not true, it’s not true!”

Applejack struggled contain a laugh, Rarity was visibly biting her lips, and Fluttershy hid her mouth with her hooves. Rainbow grunted with a stomp. Glancing around, she noticed Lyra and Bon-Bon had stopped to watch what unfolded here. She looked both of them in the eye, and said, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!”

Ponyville’s closest pair of best friends both blushed and pointedly did not look at each other for a few moments as Rainbow Dash turned to three of her nearest, dearest friends, and bluntly said, “Look, I gotta get going. I promised I’d help set up tonight’s dinner for the team, and then we’re to meet at the spa.”

“Wait, we couldn’t get a Friday evening appointment because the team booked the place!?” fumed Rarity.

Dash cheekily said, “Hey, talk to coach if you don’t like it. That was his idea. See you.” And she sped off before Rarity could respond.

The sauna room of the spa seated six, but to provide maximum relaxation, coach didn’t allow more than four in there at a time. Bicycle Kick had joined Twilight Sparkle, Spike, and Rainbow Dash as the last group in the steam room. Dash sighed contentedly. “I have to hoof it to you, coach. This really did work out my wing muscles. Haven’t felt this limber in a long time.”

Bicycle Kick grinned. “I expect the best, so I give the best.”

Twilight nodded at Spike, who moved toward the door. She asked, “Sir, you said you wanted us to have as clear a mind as possible tomorrow, right?”

“That’s right, Sparkle,” answered Bicycle Kick.

This looks like a setup....

Dash looked at Spike, then back to Twilight. The little dragon’s face spoke of anticipation, about something he’s been waiting for. Twilight said, “There’s been something on my mind. Something I’ve been wondering. I just have to know.”

A little smile crossed Spike’s face as Bicycle Kick answered, “Go ahead.”

What’s she planning?

Dash looked at Twilight with confusion and expectancy as she started, “Tuesday morning, during film, you erupted at my faithful assistant. He—”

Furiously he interrupted, “That was the third time somepony had to wake him up, and you know that!”

Twilight remained eerily serene, retorting, “Excuse me, I wasn’t finished.”

That sounds rehearsed. ‘Well in-hoof,’ she said?

Spike suppressed a grin along his lips only, but his eyes remained very telling that he was chomping at the bit over something. Bicycle Kick roared, “What’s it matter? I don’t have time for excuse-making, and that’s all you’re doing!”

“Coach, I’m speaking,” was all the princess replied.

Scoffing, the Bicycle Kick retorted dismissively, “You’re wasting perfectly good air, Sparkle! That's all you’re—”

Whoa...!

Bicycle Kick’s tirade was cut short as a magenta shackle fastened around his muzzle in response to Twilight’s horn glowing the same color. She firmly but evenly returned, “I’ll say it only one more time. I’m. Speaking.”

Spike applied the door’s deadbolt as he turned toward the coach, smarting off, “Now you can listen to somepony other than yourself! This may be a novel experience for you!”

“Spike, no,” ordered Twilight. Spike just sat on the bench next to the befuddled Rainbow Dash. Twilight continued, “We will address him politely while he’s in his predicament.”

She turned from the dragon with the childish grin to the old stallion who did not accept his binds. “My apologies that this became necessary, but you’ve made it clear you intend to interrupt me every time I broach the subject. Many like to say ‘turnabout is fair play.’ You wouldn’t let me speak when I had a legitimate problem, now our roles are reversed. You said you were ‘my king’ out on the pitch. Well, this isn’t the pitch; this is the sauna. The normal order is restored here. I am Princess, and you will listen.”

Damn, Twi, just because he took things too far doesn’t mean you should, too.

Bicycle Kick glared at Twilight, and struggled in the shackle. She continued, very even-keeled, “Our first interaction was you establishing dominance in a very primitive way, the sort of screaming, chasing, and kicking primitive ponies did before we learned to speak. That wasn’t necessary. I had already accepted your expertise on the subject, and was willing to follow your lead. Berating me over being crowned Princess of Friendship, or receiving the palace was uncalled-for, especially when I didn’t ask for either to happen. One was Princess Celestia’s decision, the other the Tree of Harmony’s. I really preferred to just be a student of magic. But, that’s not what fate had in store. I would appreciate it if in the future, you could keep those in mind.”

Bicycle Kick struggled in the shackle again, but didn’t look quite as angry. Twilight politely resumed, “I suppose such methods come natural to you, the continual shouting. You coached professional athletics for several decades. Many a time you had inflated egos to make hoof the line. But no one in Ponyville is a professional athlete. There are a few Wonderbolts, some active even though they don’t think I noticed them, and about twelve Reservists, eleven if the inkling I’m getting is correct, from one being bumped to Active Duty.”

I’ll never understand out how she learns so much so fast. How did she figure that out?

“These are not ponies that need to be badgered, or belittled, or ridiculed to maximize the results from them. You’ve given the strong, encouraging talks. Surely you’ve seen how their eyes light up when you praise them? The ends do not justify the means. They never have and they never will,” lectured Twilight. Her horn’s glow faded to nothing. “The means justify the means: how a pony goes about a problem is ultimately more important than the problem itself. I could have chosen to scream and holler and berate you until dawn if I wanted to. That wouldn’t actually help matters, would it?”

Bicycle Kick shook his head, seemingly unaware the shackle was gone.

“Then we come to how things went with Spike,” began Twilight. Bicycle Kick’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, but she continued as she pulled out the old newspaper, “The disgusted sound you made indicated his little plush Rarity hit a sore spot. After asking, Princess Celestia sent to me this newspaper clipping of the Canterlot Times from thirty-two years ago. ‘Stalker Pleads Insanity; Coach BK Still To Leave Constellation. After a thorough investigation, suspect Big Dreams pled insanity for multiple charges of voyeurism, violating a restraining order, unlawful contact with a minor, and one charge of attempted rape. Last Thursday, following his arrest, police searched the residence of Big Dreams, where they reportedly found what they called “a shrine” to Constellation Head Coach Bicycle Kick’s adolescent daughter, who will not be named due to being a minor. Police reported removing three painted portraits, an altar, fourteen partially-used white candles, and six dolls, including two in “disrespectful poses,” from the basement.’ That had to be traumizing.”

Holy hell. That’s what they were talking about that night. I think I’d wanna kill that stallion if he did that to my filly.

Spike's immature grin had faded, but Bicycle Kick actually laughed. It started as a chuckle, but it began to grow in oomph and volume. Twilight watched him for a moment, then said, “I don’t think it’s funny, and I don’t think you do, either.”

The laughing stopped instantly, a vacant expression overtaking his face. Twilight folded up the clipping. Bicycle Kick stood shaking, with a few tears rolling down his face. He had actually lay down on the floor, crossing his hooves around himself as he quietly sobbed.

What...?? Never thought I’d see this day. What the hell was that? That was scary how fast that happened!

Twilight said, “I can’t imagine that pain, nor do I want to try. It’s the stuff nightmares are made of. It’s something that nopony should ever experience. I can wager pretty safely, that when you saw his little doll, you were taken back to that horrible time, and in some way, screaming at and hitting Spike was as though it were that creep you were hitting and screaming at instead.”

Bicycle Kick looked up at Spike and croaked, “I’m sorry, little guy. I didn’t know I was still carrying that around.”

Spike looked the old coach in the eye and said, “Well, I’d be lying if I said I can forgive you that quickly. It was still uncalled-for. But I won’t hold a grudge.”

Dash blurted, “What was with the laughing? That really freaked me out! Why would somepony smile and laugh when something horrible like that is being read?”

“Dopamine,” answered Twilight. “The mind’s defense against being retraumatized is to flood the system with this chemical that makes happy feelings, until reminded that’s not what they’re really feeling. This reminding ends the dopamine stream, which causes the real, underlying emotion to come out. Then, only then, can healing begin.”

But Muffins didn’t smile or laugh. Was that word so present in her mind, that she could not even raise that defense anymore?

“Dash...,” started Twilight. Spike had gotten up, and hesitantly walked over to the coach.

“Yes?”

Twilight eyed Rainbow Dash with heavy concern. “You’re still worried about Ms. Hooves, aren’t you?”

“That obvious, huh?” groaned Rainbow.

“She never got the dopamine,” explained Twilight as Spike helped Bicycle Kick back to his feet, though the dragon’s face wasn’t entirely amiable. “She was reminded that wasn’t how she felt before the wave even came.”

So that’s what it was. I’ve been running away. I tried to raise that defense, too, or distract myself by burying myself in the game, or whatever was in a handy moment. But....

Within her head, the dam broke. Every droplet she bottled up, ignored, pushed aside, or shunted away, moved as one; there was nothing to hold them back, as all her defenses against them disappeared the moment she realized what she was doing. All pain she caused, all the anger for causing it, all the self-doubt about her Element, all the despondence from ruining what was developing into a wonderful friendship, all the worry if she had actually pushed Muffins over the edge...they all hit in unison.

Tears came from Dash as she exploded, “I can’t stand carrying this around! It was my choice of words that hurt her and drove apart from the last thing she really loved and found solace in! Stormball was her refuge, the last happy memory from a childhood full of tears! And I took it from her! I called her ‘stupid’ on the pitch when I knew that word hurt her more than anything else! I’m supposed to be better than that! I know I’m better than that! I’m supposed to be the Element of Loyalty! I could’ve done better; I should’ve done better! I had a new awesome friend in her, and I totally blew it! The whole team's suffered without her there, because of me! And I don't know if she did something drastic, because nopony’s seen her since Tuesday! And if she did, it's all my fault! I can’t stand that I did this, Twilight! I CAN’T!!”

Dash fell to the floor of the sauna, weeping angrily at herself, occasionally pounding a hoof into the floor. Twilight walked over to her friend, placing a hoof on her withers, and gently said, “Just let it out. Let it all out. You’re not a bad pony, Dash, because of one slip of the tongue. And I think you’d want to know, she hasn't done something ‘drastic;’ she’s shown up right on time to continue her work with me each night.”

Dash looked at Twilight for a moment, then howled, her relief that her biggest fear did not come to pass mixed with the rest. Spike, getting misty-eyed, ran over and hugged the bawling pegasus, which she readily accepted. Twilight wiped a tear from her eye as she continued, “You know what you need to do. But it’s getting late. She would’ve already gone to bed by now. Try to find her in the morning, but don’t tarry. We need you on the team, too. I need you there, Dash.”

Saturday morning came. Rainbow Dash silently thanked Princess Luna for the dreamless sleep. She knew what she needed to do, but also that time was short. It was a quarter after seven, but she needed to be at the pitch by nine for warmups, the skull session practice and final words before taking the pitch for the game at noon. Post wasn’t running today, which eliminated one variety of wild goose chase. Hastily brushing her teeth and leaving an extra helping for Tank, she flew out her front door, in search of Muffins Hooves.

High above, her keen eye scanned the streets of town. But there were a multitude more ponies than usual, most of them filing toward the stadium. Ponyville had maybe six hundred residents. Several thousand were in the streets, with more debarking the train at the station, and airships landing in the parks. She turned to the stadium. Twenty-five thousand could sit there easily. And plenty were already seated.

Where did all these ponies come from? Never seen it this crowded anywhere.

Dipping to just above the crowd, Dash was taken aback. Griffins were here, too. The café was overrun. Farmers’ stalls had been out, but many had closed up, already picked clean of stock. Big Mac managed to defend a delivery to his sisters at the family market cart, making sales left, right, and center, but it was clear they, too, would be out of stock before Mac could get to and from Sweet Apple Acres on a regular day, let alone now. Most poignant of all was that these ponies were from everywhere. Traditional fashions from abroad made a patchwork quilt of the crowd. The discussions were in several languages: Equestrian, Prench, Pferdish, Arabic, Cavalonian, and some she didn’t recognize. While linguistics was by no means her forte, she gleaned one notion very clearly from all the talking: these ponies from aboard were rooting for Ponyville. They wanted Buckham’s team to go down, and hard. Resentments after the different embarrassing losses lingered, which led to a second thing Rainbow discerned from the endless rambling: these ponies thought Ponyville’s team, under Bicycle Kick, actually stood a chance. But one gray mare would be key to giving the people what they want, one gray mare that could easily disappear into the crowd of thousands. Dash couldn’t tell if she was here. Anypony would be hard-pressed to tell if anypony else in particular was in this mash of hooves if they weren’t large, tall, and/or standing on something, or simply having prior knowledge.

Doofus, why didn’t you try her house first?

Rainbow took off full-speed for the eastern part of town. The crowds were thinner, but the airships still landed all the way out here. Some of the ponies just now arriving likely would not get through the lines and up one of the four stairways, even though they could fit three abreast, for quite some time. Landing outside Ms. Hooves house, there were still numerous ponies of numerous different cultures filing past. There was quite the din, enough that Dash really had to pound on the door to know if she could be heard inside. No answer. Dash knocked again, this time looking through windows. The half-empty tin of muffins indicated she’d already left.

Damn. This isn’t working.

Dash checked the sun’s position. She had, at most, forty-five minutes she could look before she needed to head to the locker room, thirty-five if she wanted to play it safe; she wasn’t sure where the locker rooms were on the temporary stadium.

Dash headed for the depot. With all the inbound trains, surely somepony would notice if there was a passenger looking to depart. One ticket booth was open. After fighting through the crowd, Dash managed to reach the window. The attendant looked at Dash, rather surprised. “Are you really chickening out, Rainbow Dash?”

“Hardly! I was wondering if you’ve seen Ms. Hooves today. I’ve been looking for her,” said Dash earnestly.

The ticket master shook his head. “Sorry, kid. Haven’t seen her around here in over a month.”

“Thanks, that does help a bunch,” replied Rainbow as she took off again.

So many...this isn’t helping! Where is she!?

Dash checked the sun’s position again. Ten minutes. She could do little more than a quick scan of the crowd as she circled the stadium, looking for the home team’s locker room; time was up. She had no choice...she would have to play without Muffins by her side.

While there were pro stadiums with more than three times as many seats, this place wasn’t quiet. Not at all. The tension and electricity in the air had grown heavy already. Finding her locker room, Dash entered through the aerial door. The rest of the team was already here, getting dressed. Rarity did their jerseys as expertly as one would expect from her. A white jersey with dark blue numbers and words, and corn yellow accents. The word “Ponville” and their names were in the corn yellow block text, with the dark blue surrounding it. Blossomforth’s and Feathermay’s goalie jerseys were simply the dark blue with the corn yellow for its number, accent stripes, and wording. Dash found her locker, with her jersey on a clothes hanger, waiting. Number 20. Twilight had already donned her jersey, wearing 42. In the middle was another jersey, hung up and untouched. Number 1. M. Hooves.

I’m so sorry, Derpy....

Bicycle Kick walked up to Dash. “Couldn’t find her?”

“No, sir. She may’ve been in the crowd, but there were too many,” sighed Dash, growing upset.

Bicycle Kick prompted her, “Chin up. It’s not over yet. And she may yet show.”

Dash protested, “But rules about late arrivals—”

“Then we deal with it as it comes,” the old stallion cut her off. “Keep an eye out during warmups. When the crowds thin, she may come into view.”

Rainbow nodded slowly. The coach walked to the center of the room. “Bring it in!”

The team came to their coach quickly. The wizened stormballer looked around at his players, and began, “I see on some of your faces, you know what awaits you out there. The giants have come. They stand upon your doorstep. And now you must defend your house. The day is here! Today you sport with giants! Today you show the proven greats that just because you are the best known, it doesn’t mean you’re the best there is! A chance of a lifetime awaits you all; this opportunity will not come again! I have given you the skills I know, taught you as best as I know how! I gave everything I had so that you can reach your pinnacle! And....”

Bicycle Kick paused, looking sad for a moment. Then he said in such an inflection, “I must apologize to you all. A stallion of my age should know better than to say the things I said to each of you over this week, or the way I bossed you all around. I treated the good, hard-working folks of Ponyville as I did the spoiled, bratty, overpaid egomaniacs I coached for decades. It was uncalled-for. It was wrong of me, and I am truly sorry.”

Nopony spoke. They all watched on as Bicycle Kick gave each of them a look in the eye in silence. Then he regained his zeal, “But now is not time for regrets! We have a song to earn! And there are tens of thousands who came from around the globe to see your song today! We’ll show the world we’re the best, the heroes, the champions! And they’re here to watch! Cavalon, Germane, Prance, and many more, even Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance are here! They all came to see you whip Cloudsdale’s sorry hindquarters back whence they came! It’s time we gave the world what they want!”

The team cheered. They felt it again, the fire in the belly, the drive. Bicycle Kick shouted to them, “This is your final warmup! We go to war, and this pitch is the battlefield! Move out!”

With fervor they charged from the locker room out to the pitch. A barrage of cheers met them. Cloudsdale’s team was already on their side, stretching. Ponyville did the same. Dash took a moment to look them over. They wore CCCP’s school colors, bright red jerseys with yellow lettering and numbers; ever true to their sponsor, even though the colors looked heinous against Spitfire's coat, mane and tail. Fleetfoot and somepony Dash couldn’t identify both wore a medium gray instead of the bright red as their goalies’ clear demarcation from the other players. The minutes went by. Simple drills, the fundamentals, the focus sharpening, they all felt it. A wave of boos sounded. Dash looked around to see Cloudsdale’s team heading for their locker room, the last moments before the game got underway. Rainbow paused a moment, and squinted her eyes.

There!! There she is!

In the distance Dash made out the gray body, and yellow mane and tail that could only be Muffins, sitting alone in the park. Dash went over to the coach, “I see her!”

“It’s too late to go now. You better hope she stays put,” replied Bicycle Kick firmly.

“But!”

“I can’t lose both of you. You know the rule if you leave now,” retorted the coach.

Dash sighed sadly, “Yes, sir.”

Bicycle Kick leaned in and whispered, “Wait for halftime.”

“What?”

“If you slip out the back quickly and quietly, you might go unseen. You could get her then, but that’s only twenty-five minutes, and hoping she doesn’t move in the meantime. The late rule will still apply to her, but not you if you stay hidden. You’re the only pony who can do it,” Bicycle Kick said encouragingly.

“Yes sir!” answered Rainbow with zeal.

Bicycle Kick turned to the rest of the team. “Back inside! It’s time!”

The crowd cheered as Ponyville returned to the locker room. Dash only half-listened to the last-second changes in strategies, the encouraging fire of keeping the chip on their shoulders, to do this for everypony in the stands. Dash’s mind was ablaze, between stormball and how to approach Ms. Hooves with so little time with which to work. After checking his watch, they joined hooves, and in unison repeated an age-old prayer for athletes:

“You who watch over us all,
we ask you to come to our game.
We ask your blessing for this gathering of friends and competitors alike,
for sportsmanship to lead all our decisions,
for good play to rule the day,
for a fair outcome to our scrimmage,
and above all, win or lose, for all involved to emerge from our contest safe and sound.”

Ponyville left the locker room, and with it, Ms. Hooves’ pristine jersey still hanging up. They returned to the pitch to the cheers of the crowd. A quick exercise to get the blood pumping, and they took their positions. Hovering just outside the center ring, Dash got her first good look at Buckham. He aged since the last picture she’d seen of him, and grown a beard. His palomino coat was a bit duller now, but those eyes, those azure eyes carried the same fire she felt in her gut. He wore his old number from his professional days: 32. The red jersey with the letters “CCCP” in yellow going down the side, the stallion looked like he’d been waiting for this moment all of his life. Refs around the pitch pointed to check if both sides were ready. As the visitor, Cloudsdale got the ball to begin the first half. Looking past her, Buckham’s eyes set on something he definitely didn’t like. Dash thought she heard a growl, but clearly saw black mist oozing out of the corners of his eyes for a moment. Rainbow caught a wide-eyed, worried look between Spitfire and Soarin’.

He’s looking to hurt her! He means Twilight serious harm...!

The head ref swung his hoof down as he blew the whistle to begin the game.

Author's Note

Chapter five, done! And the stage is set. A number of questions cleared up, some loose strings tied down, and the main event, next! It's about this time an old buddy of mine from back home would feel the need to put on a particular track from one of his favourite games; with him in mind I'll do that here:

Many thanks to my prereader for pointing out where I rushed things, and that most readers are likely unfamiliar with trauma and what it does to people. I'll just say this: I work with troubled, traumized children, and the reactions BK had above were consistent with things I've seen on the job, not just once or twice. I'll not share the stories; they're too horrific to post anywhere (not to mention, a direct violation of HIPAA, the federal confidentiality laws).

Thanks for reading, and see you next time!

The First Half

The lower ref threw the stormball up, dead center of the field. Buckham knocked it behind him and quickly advanced past Rainbow Dash, Reinaldo gathering up the loose stormball and slowly moving forward. Dash edged forward apprehensively, lowering her altitude to be slightly above Reinaldo, her focus momentarily disrupted.

Dammit, dammit, dammit, I can’t stop play now! What was that mist?

Steeling herself, Dash closed on her Reinaldo, wearing number 7. He began trying to fake his way around Dash, who wasn’t falling for any of it. Forced to back up some, he grinned, and shamelessly...sensually, even...said with half-lidded eyes, “Ah, you must be Rrrainbow Dash, a bonnita young mare. Were I not old enough to be seu pai, your fat’er, I would say we must have a rrrrendezvous to rrremember, yes? Maybe we should anyway, no?”

Dash blushed a deep crimson hue, pausing a moment.

Wha...did he just...?

Reinaldo knocked the ball upward, where McNimbus swooped in and started down the pitch. The Cavalonian winked at Dash as he rushed forward. Rainbow grunted angrily as she wheeled about to catch up with the ball movement.

Doofus! Did you really just fall for that old trick, Dash?

With the play in front of her, Dash saw Thunderlane and Lily Blossom struggling to keep up with the Wonderbolt leaders on the wings, and Buckham had already turned back, about ten meters from Twilight. Reggie and Sassaflash both closed on McNimbus, trying to pinch off a central approach. Tom passed to his left as Sassaflash just could not match Spitfire’s speed. Ms. Cirrus dropped down and to her own left, cutting off Spitfire’s better approach angle. Dash caught up with Reinaldo, but not enough to slow him down. Reinaldo wheeled upward, taking the pass from Spitfire and quickly sending it to Soarin’. He kept going forward, drawing both Thundercracker and Reggie too far from the center, appearing as though he intended to force a corner kick. Soarin’ delayed a wingbeat, dipping underneath both of them as he turned toward the goal.

Crap! He’s...!

Charging for Buckham, who had turned toward the open area of the field, Rainbow screamed, “Twi! He’s getting open!”

Twilight moved, but not enough as Soarin’ sent the centering pass. Buckham, pulling a sharp turn, tucked into a spinning advance as the ball came his way, making a solid connection. The shot bent, and then bent again! Blossomforth gasped, unable to quickly enough tell where the spiral was headed in time. She got a hoof on the ball, but no more than that as it went sailing into the net. The scoring siren sounded, and Cloudsdale’s section of the stands hooted and hollered delightedly. Dash turned toward the clock, which read 4:12, counting the seconds upward. Buckham bounded as if on a springboard, then pantomimed a jackknife dive into the lower cloud layer, followed by him portraying the crawl stroke, complete with turning his head to “breathe,” heading back towards midfield. Twilight tapped Dash on the shoulder, asking, “What happened up there?”

Rainbow blushed again, stammering, “Reinaldo went, uh, and he said, um, he...he said...he hit on me! He said he thought we should have ‘a rendezvous to remember!’ I froze up! Nopony’s ever made a pass at me before! I didn't know what to do or what to say!”

“Annoying, isn’t it? Bet you my copy of The Last Idol it was a distraction,” replied Twilight.

Dash nodded emphatically. “I see why Reggie gets under your skin.”

Twilight shook her head, and solemnly said, “At least Reggie’s not that blunt. That was tasteless of Reinaldo. Besides, he’s way too old for you.”

“I’m quite aware of the age difference, thank you! And I’m not gonna fall for that again!” shouted Dash as she turned to retake her spot at midfield.

Twilight answered, “Good!”

Rainbow looked around at her team. Their faces were of shock, disbelief, and/or disheartened. Bicycle Kick shook his head with disappointment. She turned between them, shouting, “Chin up! That was my fault, not yours! Don’t make the same mistake I did! Don’t let them distract you! And as my dad liked to say, ‘don’t let your mistakes compound themselves!’ Keep a short memory! Let’s even this up!”

Ponyville had taken their positions again, with Dash at the center of the middle circle, and Buckham just outside of it, with a self-satisfied, goading grin curling his lips.

Give me a reason, buddy! I beg you to give me a reason to slam you to the dirt!

The lower ref tossed the ball up to Dash, who very suddenly took off as fast as she could from a full stop at Buckham. The palomino backed off and upward. Rainbow lowered her approach, finding Reinaldo with a dallying expression. As the Ponyville Striker and Cloudsdale Stopper jockeyed for position, advantage, and control of the ball, Rainbow spoke first. “I have to wonder, what would your wife say if she knew you were hitting on a filly half your age?”

“She has the open mind, and would want to join in. This does appeal to you, no?” answered Reinaldo with an uncouth smile, reaching for the ball.

No. Just...eugh!

Dash knocked the ball up and forward, ducking around to his left, giving her unamused, terse retort. “You’re a bad liar, sir!”

Noticing the shadow, the cyan mare tucked into a hard left, narrowly evading Buckham’s attempt to steal from behind. Letting the stormball roll down her back, but carefully so that she didn’t give Cloudsdale a free kick for a wing ball, she turned back to see where Cloudchaser had advanced. Her eyes lingered in the stands for a split-second, noticing a pony walking around in a burnt orange and dull purple cloak, and seeing a second in the same style and color of hooded cape in a very different part of the stadium. As the stormball bumped off her rump, she rear-kicked it straight to Cloudchaser, who then passed it to her bow-wearing sister. Sassaflash had Spitfire boxed out, at least for the moment. Lily Blossom, though, could not contain Flurryfeather, who kept herself between the two. Dash was double-teamed by Buckham and Reinaldo, though the latter was breaking off to go after Flitter. Rainbow looked and saw that Thunderlane was simply too far for Flitter to attempt a pass; the real question was if it would be Reinaldo, Buckham, or Soarin’ that’d get to the ball first. Dash withheld a wingbeat before turning toward Flitter, easily passing Reinaldo on route. Flitter passed to Dash, not more than two meters above the lower cloud layer. Veering upfield, she motioned with her head to Lily Blossom, who cut in and forward. Dash led her forward with a hard pass, just enough ahead that Flurryfeather couldn’t get there, and low enough McNimbus was just as unable to stop the kick. Tom, however, just cut towards his own goal, already increasing the pressure on Lily Blossom. Rainbow started to raise her altitude and advance, shouting, “Thunderlane! Help her out!”

He looked over at Rainbow, then responded, taking a moment too long to process what little of her shout he heard over the crowd’s roaring. Lily was in an aerial scrum with Rapidfire, and Flurryfeather would be there before long to lend him a hoof, though Buckenbauer held back, covering the most probable escape angle if the Ponyville forward emerged with the ball. Dash sunk again, catching Ms. Blossom’s eye. She knocked the ball downward. Dash scanned above her, motioning toward the goal. Thunderlane picked up the pace as Dash gave the stormball a bump as if she were playing volleyball instead, though far harder and vertical than anypony would in that game. Right on cue, Thunderlane came in with a hard forehoof smack of the ball from underneath Buckenbauer, a good clean shot directed away from the bunched players. Fleetfoot had already dropped her position and started for a diving save, but she just stopped and let it sail out of bounds, just under the net; any higher, and it would’ve clanged against the net’s lower bar. The crowd groaned in near-unison as the back ref blew his whistle and pointed his flag at Cloudsdale’s net. Dash flew over to Thunderlane, giving him a hoofbump as they retreated for the coming goal kick. She said, “Don’t worry about it. I forgot how fast she is.”

Thunderlane scoffed, “I’d never seen Fleetfoot’s speed up close before.”

Turning to find a spot in wait of the coming goal kick, Dash saw another of those cloaks in the colors of persimmons and under-ripe eggplants. This one was on the opposite side of the field, and a good ways from a fourth that Dash noticed in the stands, though this last one was getting behind something.

You’d think ponies of the same culture would sit together, but who wears those colors together? I think Rarity would have a conniption if she ever sees those cloaks.

Both Dash and Thunderlane stopped at their respective parts of the field as Buckenbauer lined up to deliver the ball. He made a series of complex signals with his forehooves, waited another wingbeat, then launched the yellow ball down the pitch, sending it high. Thunderlane tried to get a hoof on it, but the goal kick went a good meter and a half above his outstretched hoof. McNimbus took the ball less than a meter from the upper cloud layer, nearing the middle circle.

Same old McNimbus, staying well-above everypony else.

Dash tore back toward her own goal, pointing to Cloudchaser to keep McNimbus from freely moving over their territory. Cloudchaser had to retreat as she elevated, forcing McNimbus to stay in the highest area of play, each dribble dangerously close to being called a meteor. He continued down the pitch much further than expected, enough that Clouchaser was actually fifteen meters above Thundercracker, while Reggie kept Soarin’ from getting open, just outside the penalty box. Flitter kept Buckham from having a clean lane to receive a pass as Dash got back to the action, resuming guarding Reinaldo. Each of them put a forehoof on the other with some light pushing, mostly to probe the other’s intention. Dash sarcastically said, “Fancy meeting you here.”

While Cloudchaser continued to keep McNimbus from any feasible descent or pass, Reinaldo snickered, “I enjoy your company as well, Rrrainbow Dash. Your flank is easy on the eyes, no?”

“I thought you and your wife had a son,” said Dash with growing irritation.

Reinaldo laughed, pushing Dash a bit harder, but still unable to get decent separation from her. He suggested, “Yes, and I will teach him, too, the way into a marrre’s love, and her bed.”

...ew....

Cloudchaser had begun closing in on McNimbus, somewhat pushing him into the top corner as he tried to maintain distance. Dash moved into Reinaldo’s push, knocking him back over a half meter. “You’re repulsive.”

“Says the filly who simply cannot keep her hoof off me, no?” teased Reinaldo.

Dash merely growled angrily. McNimbus had moved closer to Cloudchaser, vying for a way around the mare. Somewhere in the crowd, a group shouted, “Get on with it!”

No, keep it together, girl...!

Rainbow, from that far away, saw Cloudchaser’s hoof move toward her mouth as she flushed. McNimbus tried ducking around her, but she brought enough of her senses back before he passed, and got a rear hoof on the ball, knocking it out of bounds. The ref nearby below his whistle and pointed at the corner of the pitch. Reinaldo moved into the penalty box, near to Buckham, while Soarin’ set to take the corner kick. McNimbus retreated near to the middle circle, while Dash awaited outside the penalty box. Buckham hovered in front of Twilight, exchanging words with Reinaldo, and both chuckled as the princess flattened her ears. Dash looked at the scene, noticing that Spitfire had both eyes on Buckham instead of Soarin’, as he sent the corner kick sailing towards the gathered ponies.

Dash gasped, and saw the same reaction from Spitfire, as Buckham full elbowed Twilight in the face. A series of boos sounded, but when no whistle came, these boos massively increased in number. Bicycle Kick immediately was haranguing a ref for doing nothing. Twilight reeled, clutching where he hit while the same pony flew up and headed the ball at the goal. But Blossomforth had the aging legend’s movements down this time, and caught the header, to the cheer of the crowd. Rainbow zipped toward Twilight. Noting the princess’s eye watering and slightly bloodshot, she protested, “I saw that from back there! Where the hell is the damn red card!?”

Twilight’s voice took a dark tone as she said, “So he wants to play rough, does he!?”

A glow of her horn, and the watering of her eye ended as did its redness. Dash asked, “Healing spell?”

“Yes. Never thought I’d ever have a real use for it.”

“I saw black mist coming out of his eyes for moment just before the game started,” Dash said as she looked back up the pitch. Spitfire was giving Buckham an earful as they retreated, but were too far away to hear exactly what was said.

Twilight scoffed, saying, “Well, I can’t scan him now! I’ll be red-carded! See what we can do about capturing him afterward; I want him back at my lab where I can be thorough. I have to know what’s going on.”

Blossomforth said, “Your Highness, we need to continue with the game.”

“Of course. Get going, Dash. And you three,” started Twilight, turning to her fellow defenders and goalie, “cover your ears once the ball’s on its way. I’m gonna spoil that trick they used on Rainbow and Cloudchaser!”

Huh. I don’t see those cloaked ponies anywhere now.

Dash zipped down the pitch as Blossomforth punted the ball. She noticed Twi’s horn glowing again, and watched her goalie, Thundercracker, and Ms. Cirrus stuff their hooves in their ears as the princess’s voice boomed louder than the Royal Canterlot Voice, or even the crowd noise, “Girls, I heard Buckham and Reinaldo; their stallions are flirting with our mares just to be a distraction! It’s not real! Reinaldo already did it to Dash, and it looks like McNimbus tried charming Cloudchaser! Do not fall for it!”

Reinaldo did not look pleased that the cat was out of the bag in such a way. McNimbus just looked a bit sheepish. Spitfire, Flurryfeather, and Cometeer, though, glowered at their teammates for a moment, as well as some of the female substitutes on the Cloudsdale sidelines. The crowd’s reaction was a mix of some stallions laughing, and the rest of the crowd booing. Bicycle Kick just rolled his eyes.

Of course it’s only the stallions laughing. The difference between colts and stallions is how tall they stand.

Sassaflash brought in the punt and used Spitfire’s berating of Buckham to move forward unharrassed, until the captain moved against the young mare. A jostle over the ball did not last long at all, as Spitfire emerged with the ball, motioning hard to her other forwards. Buckham was back near the penalty box in a flash. Swerving inward and upward, she found Puffy Cirrus blocking her path toward the box. Contending her every attempt, Spitfire struggled to gain any sky against Ms. Cirrus. Sassaflash approached, eager to make up for her mistake, and the twins were closing as well. Soain’ had Reggie and Thundercracker boxed out. Pressing, Dash rushed to get back to help her defenders as Buckham advanced towards Twilight, the two pushing on each other. Just then, Spitfire faked to the outside, getting just enough room to take a shot on the goal.

I think Feathermay could get that one.

Twilight winced in pain again, holding her chest where Buckham’s hoof was as he went towards the ball, swinging hard with his forehoof. Blossomforth moved, but Buckham did not even touch the ball with the hard swing. As it passed over him, he lightly tapped it upwards with a rear hoof, just high enough that the quick and ever-flexible Blossomforth could not bend and stretch enough to get more than a hoof on the ball, as it lightly went into the net. The siren sounded again, to the groans of the crowd. 27:51 read the clock. Dash went over to Twilight again, her horn glowing again as she straightened up, asking, “What happened?”

“He tensed all his muscles at once,” explained Twilight, as the Cloudsdale team went amongst themselves in a series of polite, subdued hoofshakes. “It’s like a full punch, but barely not touching me, less than the length of his fetlocks. He growled as he did it, too.”

“Do you know any spells that make your coat or clothes like armor?” suggested Rainbow.

Twilight mulled over this for a moment, then said, “Actually, yeah. Get back up there. I’ll starting casting it on myself.”

Dash started back towards the middle of the pitch again, looking at her teammates. Their faces explained plenty, that she need not say a thing. These expressions were hardened, unamused, the look of ponies who would not let this happen again. The fire in the bellies grew; Dash noticed her own doing the same. Bicycle Kick motioned Sassaflash over as he patted Paper Moon on the shoulder. As he came out onto the pitch, everypony noticed Cloudsdale declined a substitution. Ponyville, however, shifted formation to a 3-1-3-3: Reggie was now Defending Stopper, and Paper Moon took Center Midfield. Behind Rainbow glowed something magenta for a brief moment.

Good, let him hurt his hooves on you now.

She reached the center of the pitch, watching the lower ref glide up to underneath her with a fresh stormball. He paused, apprehensively looking around.

Gee, it got quiet in here.

The entire stadium felt different. This wasn’t the deflated, “all the air left the place” sort of feel from a home team losing badly. Most of the fans in the stands stood, no small number leaning upon the seat in the row in front of them. Even the Cloudsdale contingent had stopped clapping. Stadium noise was at a perfect zero. The silence was not the only distinct change. The only significant movement anywhere was a pink blur that moved around Greasy Mack’s stand behind Cloudsdale’s goal. There was tension. There was unease. All the color in the crowd appeared subdued, but not enough to tell if it were a trick of the light. Twenty-five thousand-plus ponies stood with piercing, judging expressions and not a word, hoot, holler, cheer, jeer, cry, shout, or even murmur. Subs on both sides warily looked around the stands, and even some from the ponies on the pitch wearing red jerseys did, too. Such was the quiet that few seemed to have any difficulty in hearing Cometeer remark, “A silent crowd. That’s a first.”

“We’re ready,” said Dash, looking down at the lower ref.

“So are we,” declared Buckham.

The ref threw the ball upward. Dash took it forward, then sent it back to Paper Moon. The crowd suddenly came back to life, enough that it startled nearly everypony on the pitch. But this, too, had altered: the cheers were angry. Angry fans were by no means rare, although there seemed to be no clear reason. Fans angry at a given call could be found in pretty much every single game ever played. Fans angry at how their team handled a given play was also fairly common. Fans ready to, and sometimes did, throw things at the visiting team? Check any time Whinnyapolis won in Detrot, or vice-versa. No, this was new. Angry fans, no matter the stimuli, usually booed or shouted obscenities. Not here, not now. The stands themselves even seemed darkened beyond the flattened hues, as though a shadowy haze hung over the seats and those who refused to use them. Something in the angry cheering whispered of seeking blood, in a very real sense.

The tan stallion had to drop down to collect the ball before they gave Cloudsdale a stone. Dash was pushing near Reinaldo, eyeing her team, deciding how to direct traffic. He said, “I do not like this change. This is not norrrmal. You see it too, yes?”

“Yeah. What happened?” Rainbow asked, looking around. Whatever it was, was in every section of the stands.

“I do not know. And I am sorrrry for earlier; that was not in good sport,” answered Reinaldo.

“Suppose we could worry about the right and wrong of that later? This crowd looks ready to fight, or worse, if they don’t get what they want,” pressed Dash, still vying for position and opening lanes.

“I see that in theirrr eyes. Da’fid had eyes like those,” said Reinaldo. He looked around, noting, “The haze stops at the edge of the stands.”

Dash turned an eye briefly, before motioning at the twins about altitude, and to her forwards about centering ever so slightly. He wasn’t kidding; the darkening shown a clear delineation where the poles separated the fans from the pitch. “You’re right. I see it too.”

Reinaldo sighed, “What do we do?”

What was that group Spitfire mentioned yesterday? This could be their work.

Rainbow growled to herself, then said, “Keep playing, and see what happens? I’m trying to remember something.”

“Ah, but yes, we arrre on the pitch! We each have a job,” remarked Reinaldo, as Paper Moon slipped past Buckham and advanced. The brief rise in crowd cheering sounded appropriate this time before resuming its sinister tones.

“Speaking of, see you!” announced Dash as she gave a slight push off of him, breaking to her right. She motioned Lily Blossom higher, moving between McNimbus and Flurryfeather. Paper Moon passed to Flitter, who faked out Spitfire on a double move and sent the ball on to Lily. Flurryfeather rose up to meet the attacker as McNimbus and Rapidfire cut off Dash’s clear approach. Another contested possession ensued, though neither had the clear advantage. Players on both teams positioned themselves around the struggle, watching for a loose ball.

They took a number for their name...was it eleven, twelve? Somewhere in there. Spitfire clearly thought their goal had something to do with who’s here.

Popping out away from the sidelines, three ponies converged toward the ball, though Spitfire backed off and let Reinaldo struggle with Flitter this time. The struggle did not stay in one place, as each tried to gain advantage, a way to move toward scoring, and prevent the other from doing the same. Bicycle Kick was near the embattled pair, shouting something indistinct against the crowd. Dash looked around, examining who was where to gather up a loose stormball if neither could advance. She motioned Reggie to an unguarded post near Buckham.

Buckham! He’s after Twilight! That what it was; the Elevens, or Twelves, or whatever they call themselves, are after Twi! He’s only used the game as an excuse to hit her twice already! But, but...that wasn’t the only thing...what was the rest?

Rainbow Dash examined her surroundings again while Reinaldo and Flitter continued winding around, still just as embroiled over whose possession it was. Reinaldo broke loose, and was met by Paper Moon in a jiffy, starting the whole process over, again. The crowd’s patience with the repeated scrums began to fade, and fast. Looking through the dulled hues around the stands, Dash noticed a certain three did not seem affected. One of them just exited The Hayburger’s concession stand and zipped over to Sugarcube Corner’s booth in a pink blur. The other two had a private box, above the others, one’s mane sparkling and drifting around as though it was submerged, the other’s tri-colored coif hung in neat and crisp curls, both aunt and niece giving each other worried glances as they spoke to each other as their diadems glittered in the alabaster one’s sunlight.

That was it! Spitfire said they wanted one pony race under one princess. I wonder if they’ve picked which one they want, or if they don’t care.

Reinaldo’s face took on frustrated expressions as Paper Moon proved much better at this than he was expecting. The crowd was getting louder.

Guess it’s a good thing Princess Luna’s holding that conference in Detrot today. She’ll be...wait a minute....

Dash’s eyes widened, as she put both her forehooves to her mouth.

Luna isn’t here, but the other three princesses are! Shit! If the crowd’s this riled, the enemy could get what they want here and now!

Dash found Flitter close to Spitfire. Imperatively she directed to switch places, much to the confusion of the bow-wearing twin. Rainbow zipped to Spitfire, who met her with a displeased voice, but not directed at Dash. “I’m beginning to think we should’ve canceled this game, Ensign! It didn’t need to be played, if not for the economics of all those major business and Ponyville vendors trying to get their names out! Only they and Buckham were really pushing for it!”

“Ma’am, we have a serious problem!” shouted Rainbow.

Spitfire scoffed, “Tell me something I don’t know!”

“Luna’s the only princess who’s not here!”

Spitfire gawked at Dash, incredulous, alarmed, and even a hint panic. She ejaculated, “What!?”

Rainbow leaned into her captain, pointing towards the top of the stadium. “Look!”

Spitfire followed Dash’s foreleg up to the private boxes at which it pointed. Her face and shoulders slumped, eyes still wide, almost bugging out, jaw agape with a slight shake. She continued staring, and uttered, “…fuck.”

Withdrawing her forehoof and giving Spitfire a little shake, Dash asked, “Is this the Elevens, or Twelves, or whatever the hell they call themselves at work? I saw four ponies earlier in dull orange and purple cloaks.”

“Elevens,” answered Spitfire. “And yes, that would certainly be them.”

Dash furrowed her brow. “I think Princess Celestia can clear the mist, ma’am!”

“Ensign, if you have a way to get in touch with Her Majesty, now would be a good time!” replied Spitfire as she began to hyperventilate.

Dash frantically searched around, scratching her head as Reinaldo almost broke loose. She perked up. “Spike!”

“Her Highness’s pet dragon?” asked Spitfire, not following at all.

“He’s not a pet, but he can send scrolls to Princess Celestia!”

Spitfire’s eyes widened again. She grasped Dash by both shoulders with a shake, demanding, “Is he here?”

“Yeah, on Ponyville’s sideline,” replied Rainbow, gesturing towards Bicycle Kick. “But we’ll need to knock the ball out of bounds by the team, so that one of us can tell him to send Celestia a note!”

“Good thinking, Ensign!” said Spitfire, with audible relief flowing over her. “Come, let’s get that ball!”

“Yes ma’am!”

The two Wonderbolts made their way over to the contested ball and joined the fray, extracting the ball from Reinaldo and Flitter, scrumming it over to the sideline. The captain hit the ball into Dash’s shoulder, and it went out right in front of Bicycle Kick. Rainbow gave Spitfire the look as if to say really?, to which the captain innocently shrugged. The ref flagged for Cloudsdale to throw it in. Both Wonderbolts in unison shouted, “Spike!”

Spike ran to Dash, perplexed, “What is it?”

“Go listen to Captain Spitfire!” ordered Rainbow as she retook her usual place in the field, ignoring the baffled, astounded, and angry look from her coach. She watched from afar as Spitfire spoke to Spike, unable to hear a thing, while Bicycle Kick walked up. While the coach clearly understood the first time and walked away, Spike stopped to scratch his head in confusion. Only a blind pony could not have lip-read Spitfire shouting the word “now” at him. Coach gave Spike some loose paper and a pen while Spitfire directed her team.

Now that’s the first thing that’s gone right today.

Spitfire threw the ball over her head with both forehooves to Flurryfeather. She took it down the sideline as Spitfire moved ahead of her, into a gap. A pass, and the captain quickly pressed the ball toward the goal. Buckham had slipped forward while Ponyville hadn’t fully restored its formation, nearing Twilight again. Spitfire elevated herself over Puffy Cirrus, and centered the ball. Buckham tried kicking Twilight with his rear hooves, but himself winced. Twilight moved away from the goal before the ball arrived, and at the same time, Buckham moved forward. He kicked the ball at the goal, but Blossomforth didn’t even move. As he started to celebrate, he turned to Blossomforth, she eyeing him back with a smug look on her face. Furrowing his brow, the Cloudsdale Striker questioned her with just an expression. All she did as a response was lightly gesturing to the sidelines, where he saw the ref had a flag out and pointed at him. He spun about angrily and moved back, frustrated with being caught offsides.

Ha! And it looks like her armoring spell is nicely intact, too.

Blossomforth ordered her midfielders to close in as she drove the free kick straight to Reggie. The young stallion eluded Reinaldo’s first attempt to steal, and his second, then passed the ball before his opponent could stage a third. Paper Moon received the pass and drove upfield, Dash still open for the moment, but not long enough to warrant a pass. That, and McNimbus closed in on him. Faking right, he passed to the left, where Cloudchaser easily pulled it in. Misty Fly cut off her advancement. Dash came back for the ball, but soon found Buckenbauer had pursued her outside the penalty box, and that their forwards were equally well-covered. Dash turned to the clock, seeing 43:01.

We’re getting too close to stoppage time! I do not want to go into the half with a blank!

Some yellow light caught her attention. Looking around, she saw Princess Celestia over the stands, casting a wide-area spell of some kind. Waiting a moment, Rainbow examined the area of effect. It appeared lighter, brighter, better contrast of color for a moment, but then the haze leaked back in from the surrounding darker sections. Celestia kept at it. Buckenbauer pushed past Dash. She turned to see Misty Fly had taken the ball while her back was turned.

Crap! Takes a doofus to make that mistake, Dash!

Rainbow hurried to catch up with the others. Misty passed to Reinaldo, who gave Reggie the slip, and began directing his team. The young Mr. Stormkicker came in from behind, interrupting the orders, but Reinaldo still maintained possession. Referees indicated two minutes of stoppage time.

Come on! Get it out of there!

Dash rushed to return to the action as Buckham neared Twilight yet again, center of the penalty box. Reinaldo sent the ball to Spitfire, who immediately centered. Buckham tried raising his hoof into an uppercut to Twilight’s chin, but she didn’t seem affected. He just flapped himself above the others and tried to bicycle kick the ball into the goal. Blossomforth’s lithe movements got a hoof on the ball, knocking it over the net.

I will never tell her she’s too flexible again.

Soarin’ moved out to take the corner kick, while Buckham grimaced, shaking the hoof that attempted that punch. With a few hoof directions, Soarin' belted the ball toward the middle. Buckham punched at Twilight, but she evaded him, disappearing in a purple flash. Soarin’s face went slack as Twilight rematerialized in the way of his corner kick. She laid into the ball hard, making several ponies take off full speed down the pitch.

Come on! Let’s go!

Thunderlane was in exactly the right place, taking the ball and immediately sending it to Dash. Rainbow gathered up the sent stormball, seeing only Buckenbauer and half the pitch between her and Fleetfoot, and a point. She burst forward as only she could, directly at the Cloudsdale Sweeper. As he moved for the ball, she tipped it to the left while zipping around his right. Gathering it up, the crowd cheered, roaring the loudest it had been all day as Rainbow Dash got a fast-break. Rainbow zoomed straight up the middle, only the goalie to beat. She lined up her shot, screaming, “This is why they call me Dash!!”

A wind-up with her rear left leg, and she delivered the heavy blow from just inside the penalty box. The ball broke two hundred kilometers per hour. Dash’s shot did not go toward a corner; it went straight up the middle, straight at Fleetfoot. She caught it, but was forced back...enough that the goal siren sounded. Fleetfoot looked around and discovered Dash’s shot knocked her and the leading third of the stormball past the plane of the net’s opening. She angrily threw the ball down as the crowd’s cheering, sounding very real, drowned out all other noise. Elation flooded Dash’s mind as she tore down the pitch towards her teammates, pumped her hoof, and hollered, “YYYYEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!”

As Rainbow flopped onto the lower cloud layer, pretending to make a snow angel, most of her team piled on her with hugs and ecstatic praises, albeit indistinguishable. Joyful laughter echoed all around the happy heap. A few more cheers, and the glorious moment ended as they got off, prompted by the refs that the half was over. They rushed back to the locker room, the cheers of the crowd very real, and very loud. The haze was partially lifted, and Celestia was very much still at work on it. Cadance had also been involved, sending red hearts from her horn at couples around the stands.

Dash received a series of pats on the back, hoofbumps, and hugs from her teammates. Bicycle Kick closed the door behind them. He smiled briefly as he said, “Good work, but we’re still down a goal, and a player, and they are not going to take ending a half like that lightly.”

The team’s faces sobered up quickly. The coach turned to Rainbow. “Go. You know what you need to do. She’s hasn’t moved.”

Oh, good. That’ll make the first part of this easy. The second part...? Well....

Nodding, Dash shed the jersey, and started for the door. Twilight protested, “But if she’s seen out there, she’ll be considered a late player! She’ll have to wait for an injury before she’s allowed to play!”

“Then she’d best not be seen, and as far as I’m concerned, that’ll make us square with the refs not red-carding Buckham,” answered Bicycle Kick firmly. “You’ll need to fly, and very close to the ground. It’s your best chance to go unnoticed. Twenty-five minutes. Can you do it?”

“Sir, have you met Scootaloo? She’s like a little sister to me, and I’ve learned a few things from her!” laughed Rainbow as she opened the door. Twilight walked up to the entry to close it behind Dash. The two examined the outside.

“Now,” whispered Twilight.

Looking downward, Dash took a step out the door, and began freefall toward the town below.

Author's Note

So...first half of the game is complete, Cloudsdale leads 2-1. A very important confrontation is up next; it doesn't take a genius to determine what that is, though. Then, the second half, and the aftermath.

Thanks for reading, and see you next time.

Halftime

“What in the blue-flying hell was that!? I should arrest you right now!!” snarled Spitfire as she slammed David Buckham against the wall of the locker room, teeth bared. Soarin’ stood beside her, glowering at the aged legend. The other six Wonderbolts on the Cloudsdale roster were behind them, facing the rest of the team, keeping them from interfering. Silver Lining dug in his hooves against McNimbus, who struggled to push his way past the others.

“Explain yourself,” demanded Soarin’.

“What are you on about!?” Buckham yelled, his demeanor, voice, and mannerisms evident of having no clue of what’s going on.

“You elbowed Princess Twilight in the face!” accused Spitfire. Silver Lining nearly toppled over McNimbus as he ceased trying to push through. McNimbus looked at Buckham with an expression of utter shock and disbelief.

Buckham scratched at his beard, answering as one who was still in thought, “Must’ve been part of the play; I don’t recall doing that.”

“I don’t buy that for a second!” snapped Spitfire. Cometeer, behind her, just shook her head with disappointment. “Her Highness hadn’t moved yet, and you certainly didn’t need that kind of aid in getting some separation for a header, the one their goalie caught!”

“That’s why they started booing? I’ll have to apologise to Her Highness over that accident when I was going for the header,” Buckham said with self-deliberation.

Spitfire shouted, “You aren’t convincing anypony!”

Buckham shoved Spitfire off of him, growing irritable. He retorted, “You, captain, are the only one making a tremendous deal over the roughness of the sport!”

“She’s the only pony you had any serious contact with out there! Throwing an elbow like that’s pretty damn one-sided!” Spitfire said with a measured level of vitriol.

Buckham held up his right forehoof in front of her face, saying in a scandalized voice, “One-sided? The roughness of stormball is one-sided, you say?”

The keratin hoof itself the one with which he tried to uppercut her was smashed and breaking apart in chunks. There was also a considerable break clear up to the cuticle, touches of red dabbing either side of the crack. He then pulled up his left rear hoof, where under the fetlocks, at the edge of the hoof, some bruising was visible. Ruffling up his coat at the ankle, the purpled skin revealed its hue to the gathered Wonderbolts.

Buckham stood normal again, giving Spitfire and Soarin’ a pointed sour and accusatory glare. “You were right: she was the only pony I had serious contact with when goal-scoring. And in the middle of the flurry for position and advantage, I was kicked twice, but I didn’t call for a foul when there wasn’t one. I knew that was part of the game, and I don’t fault her for playing it with all the heart she brought to the pitch. The days of hamming up injuries are over. The only one I heard complaining was you. You berated me then, not that I could’ve understood you over the crowd noise, and did now, for what!? Not having all the facts first!?”

Buckham looked between Spitfire and Soarin’, and the rest of the team. Many of the other retirees nodded. He said, “We’re wasting time with this! We have a second half to prepare for, and I, for one, am not happy with giving Rainbow Dash a scoring fast-break to close the first! We need to keep her shut down, and your minds back on the pitch where they belong! Are we all on the same page now!?”

Murmurs answered him. Spitfire, Soarin’, Fleetfoot, and Reinaldo did not look fully convinced, but still motioned for Buckham to speak his piece. He turned toward Buckenbauer and said, “Franz, I still think you have the best mind among us for making adjustments. What’re your thoughts?”

Rainbow Dash let gravity do the work, descending toward Ponyville near Town Hall. Her eyes were closed as she took deep, slow breaths. She would have some backtracking to do, but it wasn’t worth risking being seen through the lower cloud layer to move toward the park now.

Keep it cool, Dash. Bring your mind to what Daring Do called “zen.” Breathe.

She slowly opened her eyes. The ground below approached, finer details becoming clearer and clearer with each passing instant. She flared her wings out and flapped once, propelling herself forward with her feet less than a meter from terra firma, the downstroke of her wings very nearly brushing the grass and cobblestone, displacing whirling eddies of dust and grass cuttings from each wingbeat as she raced through town not unlike a particular orange, scooter-riding filly. Pulling abrupt tight turns regularly, occasionally ducking through alleys, all while avoiding being seen, Dash smiled during the challenge.

I don’t think Scoots knows how agile she really is. This is awesome maneuverability practice! I should join her in the future!

The park opened up before her. She unfurled her wings as an air brake, using her feet to maintain balance and stay upright. Muffins was just past the crest of this hillock. Dash calmly walked up the hill, feeling her heart pounding harder now than it did on the pitch minutes ago. The extra oats at breakfast were looking like a worse and worse idea all the time as the empty-feeling lump in her stomach returned. Her elbows felt almost as sturdy as a stick of butter. Even the tiny arteries in her eardrums became audible as she crested the knoll.

There sat Ms. Hooves in the shade of a massive beech, silently blowing bubbles that lingered as they departed in the breeze, none of them special in any way apart from their longevity. Her ears were drooping.

Okay, Dash, don’t force her. No matter what happens, keep it cool, and don’t force her.

Swallowing hard, Rainbow Dash approached at a slow pace. At only a few meters away, Muffins’s ears perked up for a moment, then flattened angrily. She spat, “Aren’t you in the middle of losing a game?”

Dash sighed, her own ears drooping. “I can’t fault you for still being angry at me.”

“Good. Now leave me alone,” said Ms. Hooves.

Rainbow started, “I was wrong to—”

“Spare me your platitudes, and your reason for coming! I don’t care!” snarled Ms. Hooves, still not looking at Dash.

“Muffins, I need you!” implored Dash as her shoulders fell, and her face following soon after.

“Then suffer.”

“Twi needs you too! We all need you!” pleaded Rainbow desperately as her eyes turned misty. “We can’t do this without you!”

“Let me ask you this, Rainbow Dash: why should I?” snapped Ms. Hooves, standing up and turning to face Dash, her countenance angry and unforgiving, though there was a touch sadness in her eyes. Words died in Rainbow’s throat. Muffins’ eyes narrowed as she said, “Why should I care that the team’s in remiss? Twilight already promised she’d continue helping me with my studies! The rest of you fluff-piles called me...that! You pompous, ostracizing goose-turds all said that word about me! I don’t care if you lose by twenty-five! So get back to embarrassing Ponyville, Dash!”

She goes so far as to call it “that word.” I hope she didn’t start to believe it.

Rainbow looked down, trying to keep the forming tears from appearing in her voice as well. “You’re right. We did you wrong. I did you wrong. There’s—”

No. Don’t say it; Captain Spitfire ordered you not to say a word of it outside the Wonderbolts or the Princesses.

Dash paused, then sadly said, “There’s nothing I can say or do that’ll take away what I did. I’m sorry I caused you pain. I’m sorry I let it leave my lips. It was wrong to say, and it’s just not true. You’re not stupid, Muff-eumpphh...!”

Rainbow toppled over as Ms. Hooves suddenly upped and decked her without warning, a clean-hitting right hook just below the eye. Muffins’ eyes were laden with hate as tears leaked out, her punching hoof still extended as her enraged breaths made her entire body shake and heave. She growled, “Shut the hell up!”

Dash started to stand up with a stagger, blinking quickly with one watering eye. She wobbled a moment, then looked Muffins in face as she felt her forelegs tightening.

No! Don’t you dare retaliate, no matter how swollen it’s gonna get! Keep it cool. But yeah, you hit a nerve, all right. I think she did come to believe it.

Dash tried again, “You’re not stupid, Muffins.”

A roundhouse kick rolled Dash over a few times down the slight decline as Ms. Hooves shrieked, “Shut up!!”

Two blows to the left side of her face left Dash with white spots dancing around her vision, and what her tongue told her was a loose tooth. She shook her in a daze.

Just let her get it out, Dash.

Getting back to her feet, Dash empathetically said, “You’re not stupid, Muffins.”

“SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH!!!” roared Ms. Hooves, her tears flowing freely as she raised both her forehooves together and brought them down on Dash’s head, as though she were swinging a railroad spike-driving maul. The blow broke skin, staining the cyan coat red in front of where her spectral mane began. Muffins began sobbing as Rainbow stumbled back to all-fours. Ms. Hooves’ head was down, crying softly, as Dash shook the multiple images back into one picture.

Ooh...that’s a headache….

Rainbow blinked hard, and said, “You’re not stupid, Muffins.”

Muffins charged forward, beating hammer blows onto Dash’s back. Her strikes grew more weaker, and her words more and more choked and unintelligible. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up…shut up...shut…up...shut....”

Still trying to hit Dash, Muffins cried in earnest, wailing. Years of pain, a foalhood of agony, so much anger and sadness gathered and bottled together for so long, all over a single word, uttered so many times, finally had been let go. The sum of bullying’s ordeal oozed away in four streams of salty water. Muffins wept, unable to keep flailing, leaving both forelimbs wrapped around Dash. Rainbow hugged her friend, choking up herself, as she said, “You’re not stupid, Muffins. You never were, and you never will be. Anypony who can do math like that, math I can’t follow, and that even Twilight struggles to keep up with, is brilliant. Don’t ever believe it, because it’s not true. You’re not stupid, Muffins.”

Ms. Hooves tightened her hug of Dash, which was gladly returned. Dash let her own tears go with some sniffling as her friend began regaining control of her breathing. As both edged closer to normal respiration with only occasional choppiness, they let go, and wiped away the others’ remaining tears. Still sounding emotionally vulnerable, Muffins asked, “You saw my work with Twilight? Are you serious that she’s struggling to keep up with it?”

“She said so herself, Muffins,” said Dash. “Did she never tell you?”

“No, I thought we kept moving on because I wasn’t getting something, not because she was stuck,” replied Ms. Hooves.

Rainbow said, “Twilight told me you were calculating the weather, as if there were no weather ponies.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Muffins. “Didn’t they go over that in teaching how to be a weather pony?”

“Not at all,” answered Dash, making her words sound very serious. “I went to Cloudsdale Climate Prep, you know, the CCCP, the best weather pony school in the world, and they had almost zilch about how it works without us. They used that fact, or rather idea, to emphasize how important weather pony teams are. It’s awesome that you’re discovering something new!”

“Oh wow,” breathed Ms. Hooves, baffled. “I’m breaking new ground?”

“Yeah. Twi thinks you can use this work to get a PhD,” Dash beamed.

Muffins squawked, “No way!”

“Way, mare-friennnndd!” joshed Dash, jokingly using an accent with matching facial expression very different from her normal self, grinning at Muffins afterwards as if to emphasize the intended humor. They looked at each other a moment, then both burst out laughing. They tried to hold each other up during the guffaws, but fell down anyways, giggling like school-fillies for a good moment or so.

Through intermittent snickering, Ms. Hooves said, “Please don’t ever do that again!”

“Absolutely. Never again,” said Rainbow, her words also broken by giggles. As they regulated their breathing yet again, Dash reiterated, “But keeping it real, Twi really does think you can and should get a doctorate for this work.”

“I wonder what Doc will think of that,” reflected Ms. Hooves. She looked up, gasping, “Oh my Celestia! Did I do that to you!?”

Rainbow brushed it off, “Yeah, but don’t worry about it.”

Feel kinda loopy, too….

Ms. Hooves protested, “How can I not worry about it!? I was—”

“In pain,” said Dash emphatically, yet woozy. “You were in pain. And as your friend, I did what I had to, to ease it.”

“But...!”

“No buts. You’re my friend. And if I have to take another beating for you, or from you, I will. Not gladly, of course, but for my friends, anything,” said Dash earnestly. She stumbled, but righted herself.

“I don’t think you can play like that!” Muffins exclaimed with worry.

Dash said, “Well, I’ll have to get back soon so that Twi has time to patch me up before the second half. We have to hurry. Stay low to the ground until we’re about under the stadium. Our locker room is almost directly over the Sofas and Quills shop.”

“We? Our locker room?” asked Muffins in surprise.

“Yes, you too! You’ve always been part of the team!” answered Rainbow, with a hint of irritation.

Ms. Hooves asked, “Even though I’ve missed practice?”

Good grief, Derpy, when are you gonna stop punishing yourself!?

Dash pressed, “Of course! Why is this still up for debate? We need you, Muffins!”

“But the late rule...!”

“Screw the late rule!” Dash exclaimed. “Just you being there will mean the world to them! Even the twins were mopey about you not coming back!”

“But...!”

“I already said ‘no buts!’ Come on!”

“I don’t have a jersey!” Ms. Hooves urged, tugging on Dash’s wing.

That’s the big hang up? I would’ve guessed it was nerves....

“Rarity made yours when she made the others,” replied Dash in exasperation. “It’s still hanging up!”

“Oh,” said Muffins flatly, although she sounded calmer. They both spread their wings. As they took off, Ms. Hooves asked, “What number am I wearing?”

“Your number is what you are to us,” Dash replied with a smile.

Bicycle Kick suddenly stopped explaining his adjustments to defensive strategy when a pair of soft taps sounded on the exterior door. Twilight telekinetically opened the door to outside the stadium, to which the entire team gasped with delight. Muffins hovered into the locker room, confused at all the happy, hopeful faces, that last time she saw them were flattening their ears at her. Bicycle Kick smiled as old stallions do, with a nod at her return. A startled gasp from Stormbringer turned the team’s attention as he blurted, “My goodness, Dash!”

“Twilight, I could use a hoof with something right away,” said Dash, aching. The rest of the team, except Muffins, looked at her, many agape, and most of the rest with at least one forehoof at their respective mouths. Slamming the door shut, the princess ran over to her bruised friend.

Reggie spouted, “Somepony needs to teach you when to duck!”

“Actually, Reg,” replied Rainbow in a somewhat shaking voice, “this was when not to.”

Bicycle Kick looked her over and said, “Looks like somepony sucked it up and took one for the team.”

“Yes sir!” answered the bloodied pegasus in pain. Twilight examined Dash’s head with some kind of sweeping beam, though during the magic, the princess’s mane and tail began to float and drift more like Princess Celestia’s, with some sparkling. As the spell ended along with the bedazzled coarse hair, Dash spluttered, “Your hair, Twi! Your mane was—”

“That’s because I just used Alicorn magic,” Twilight said as she worked. “That spell is beyond any unicorn. Now hold still; you have a concussion.”

If it only happens when they used Alicorn-level magic, why do Their Majesties’ manes and tails look like that all the time? Oh geez, Dash...you really are turning into a Wonderbolt, calling Celestia and Luna that!

Twilight resumed the high-powered spell as a green beam went over Dash’s face. Dash moved her tongue inside her mouth, holding the loose tooth in place as the healing magic swept over her. Her headache gone and tooth feeling solid, Dash got back into wearing number Twenty.

The twins squeeked quietly. All heads turned to the gray pegasus, looking at the one jersey left on a hanger, bearing the name M. Hooves, and the number One. Lightly she took it down, turning it over several times for a more thorough examination. She ruffled it up to the neck hole, slipping her head slowly through the collar. Her left forelimb found its sleeve first, quickly followed by the right. Pulling down the jersey over her torso, her folded wings nudged themselves through their open slots, fanning out slightly to move the cloth snug against the base of her wings and keep it tight against her body. Her wings returned to her side as she took a deep breath, turning around. The glint in her eye stirred them all, even the coach. The fires in the bellies, the hunger for stormball, the yearning for victory, the need to be on the pitch, she called it all with just a look. The mailmare was gone. Here stood the athlete, her real self, on full display.

Muffins strutted to the middle of her gathered teammates. Looking around for a moment, she garnered all the fervor out there on the pitch, shouting, “This is a stormballer’s dream we’re living out today, here and now! Beginning the second half down against a heavily favored opponent, playing at home, with a very real chance to come back and win! And not just any opponent, but the cream of the crop! And it’s in reach! You’ve no idea how many players, present, past, and deceased, would have killed for this chance, to lay the best of the best low, to leave them in absolute shock as you have! They were a seven-point favorite, and you’re down by only one! Cloudsdale thought they could waltz right through Ponyville, and you choked them with those words! You did what many thought was impossible; that makes you mighty! We didn’t just come to play; we came to win! It's what the mighty do! And dammit, we’re gonna win!!”

The team cheered. Each of them wanted it more than anything else in the world at that moment. Stormball, and only stormball. Victory was so close they could taste it. But they knew they had work to do, and were chomping at the bit to get started.

“Forehooves in!” shouted Bicycle Kick. The team immediately responded. “Now we’re complete. Our family is all here. And together, you will carry the day! Less than an hour ‘til we sing! It’s time to get out there and show the world we were never kidding around! Win on three!!”

“ONE, TWO, THREE, WIN!!!”

Ponyville’s team charged through the locker room door out onto the pitch to the cheers of the crowd. Some last second warm-ups, during which Dash took her old partner, Ms. Hooves. She looked around at the crowd, asking, “What happened here? I’ve seen angry fans, but nothing like this.”

“If I weren’t ordered to silence, I’d tell you everything!” griped Rainbow. “Long-story short, a few someponies got everypony in the stands all upset, and are looking for trouble, using these riled ponies to do it.”

Muffins said with a clever grin, “Is this part of why you said the team needed me?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Ms. Hooves looked up. Dash followed her eyes and found Princess Celestia hovering over the center of the home-side stands, alleviating them of their darkened mist. Ms. Hooves gave Dash a hard, pressing, questioning look. “It’s so bad that even the Princess is working on it?”

“Yeah.”

Dash supported Muffins as she stretched her glutes. They traded places. Looking down, Muffins accusingly asked, “This Cloudsdale team never came here for the game, did they?”

“It sure doesn’t look like it.”

“Well, I say we kick their flank on the pitch, then crush their nefarious purpose!” Muffins said.

“Damn straight!” said Dash.

The teams took their positions on the pitch fairly quickly; neither team had made substitutions nor formation adjustments while in the locker room. Rainbow hovered at the center of the pitch, ready to begin the second half. Referees motioned between players and coaches to see if all was ready to go. Dash looked at the sidelines for a moment. Muffins stood looking as much like a coach as anything else. As she caught Dash’s gaze, she gave her friend a knowing, determined grin. Dash gave her the same in return.

The head ref threw down his hoof as he blew the whistle to begin the second half.

Author's Note

Seventh chapter complete! It all comes down to this. A one-goal deficit, and 45 minutes of play to make it up with at least one more. But that doesn't do much about the trouble in the stands. You'll just have to keep reading to find what's going on there. :applecry:

Thanks for reading, and take care.

The Second Half, pt. 1

Watching the stormball rise as the lower ref tossed it up at the center of the pitch, Rainbow Dash tipped it further up, then slapped it backwards over her head to Paper Moon. She advanced slowly as she watched behind her for how her center midfielder handled the approach of Buckham. He was in Paper Moon’s face almost immediately. Dash looked at the sidelines, where there was Ms. Hooves, possibly even more animated than Bicycle Kick in directing the team. Flitter looked at her while she motioned forward and to the other side of the. She relayed the signal to her twin, who complied slowly, watching how things unfolded in the pitch’s central circle. Buckham was on his fourth near-steal when Paper Moon veered to his right, but kicked it left. Cloudchaser burst forward into the gap between Soarin’ and Reinaldo, scooping up the ball. Dash rose up some in altitude as Reinaldo headed off Cloudchaser. As he closed in, she swung at the ball with her forehoof as if to pass to Dash, to which Reinaldo popped upward...but knocked it to her right. There she used her rear leg in a rugby-style punt while Reinaldo blocked where the ball wasn’t going, on its way to Rainbow Dash.

Faked out both of them to start the half? I suppose they are past their prime, but still...whoa.

McNimbus arrived a second too late to stop the pass, but not too late to prevent easy advancement. The two immediately got into a scrum over the ball. McNimbus grunted, but grinned, as he commented, “Say, you’re pretty good at this, Rainbow Dash!”

“Thanks, guy!” beamed Dash as she cut off his chance to steal the ball. “Goes without saying that I’m awesome! You are too!”

“Appreciate it! I wonder how much better we'd be if we were still young, but we were so arrogant back then,” said McNimbus thoughtfully, in spite of scrumming for the stormball. “The clash of egos would've broke us apart.”

Dash said, “I never understood how pro teams cooperate for that reason!”

“Small miracles,” said McNimbus. Dash slipped the ball to her right and moved forward while McNimbus winced. Rotating his left foreleg while bracing that shoulder with his right, he muttered, “Yeow, knew there were reasons I got out of the game....”

Dash moved forward, keeping herself out of Buckham’s reach. Entering the penalty box, the powder-blue mare noticed how Buckenbauer slid around in the air, enough that Dash found getting around him at normal speed was immensely more difficult than at a breakneck mad sprint. Rainbow flicked her eyes about. Lily had Rapidfire boxed out, but that wouldn’t last much longer. Thunderlane, though, was between Misty Fly and Cometeer for the moment. Rainbow sent the pass somewhat backwards and to her left. Thunderlane easily scooped it up, and turned to face Cometeer. Thunderlane struggled, unable to advance past or dupe the aging mare, until he started to move for the inside, then dipped low and to the outside.

Get it in there, Thunderlane!

Dash spread out her forelegs and backed into Buckenbauer, boxing him out of the play as Thunderlane turned toward the goal. He had so little separation from Cometeer that she kept reaching for the ball. Fleetfoot hovered ready. Thunderlane tried a fake swing at the ball with his forehooves and a kick with his rear hooves, to psych the goalie away from the short side, in vain. Fleetfoot stayed her course and caught the shot without difficulty.

Didn’t we go over this in film sessions, that the Commander is almost never suckered in by those tricks?

Thunderlane hurried out of there before Fleetfoot decided how to begin a counterattack. Rainbow Dash retreated as well, turning to look at who was where for choosing a position from which to interrupt the play. Fleetfoot hurried and gave the stormball a line drive kick over Dash’s head. Thunderlane turned toward McNimbus, who, again, was near the upper cloud layer as he took the ball. Rainbow hurriedly directed him back toward the wing, observing both Muffins and Bicycle Kick giving him the same command. Not noticing, Thunderlane tried to steal from McNimbus, and missed. With the momentary opening McNimbus sent the pass to Misty Fly. With the ball nearing the Cloudsdale bench, Misty Fly found Cloudchaser’s position had effectively foiled any real chance to advance or pass it forward. Cloudchaser closed, and the two tussled over the ball, very nearly knocking it out of bounds several times. The side ref floated near, transfixed on the scrum, whistle already in his mouth, just waiting. Dash took a position towards Cloudsdale’s goal, slightly lower. Around the stands the dark haze gripped tighter as crowd frustration grew at yet another of these scrums. Rainbow continued assessing the immediate situation, both on and off the pitch. The mist still had not left the stands, the sharply-defined dividing line still lay bisecting the pole fences between the pitch and the first row of seats.

This is definitely no accident. That haze has to be coming from something within the cloud. It’ll take too long to get the fans out of here before we can just clear the skies, which means the Elevens will have disposed of whatever thing they used to make this stuff. How long have they been planning this? I sure hope Princess Celestia is making headway, but I don’t get what Princess Cadance is doing.

The ball popped out and toward midfield, much to the delight of the fans. Reggie couldn’t have chosen a better place to wait, easily taking up the ball and sending it to Flitter. Most of the field had to shift as the play very quickly found its way from one sideline to the other. Spitfire, also having held her position, swooped toward Flitter as she took the stormball across the medial line. Her eyes caught a shadow nearing her own on the lower cloud layer, and passed the ball forward to Lily Blossom. Rapidfire quickly blocked her path, and the two struggled over the ball. A smattering of boos came through the annoyed crowd noise.

Somepony who helped build the stands must be an Eleven. But who, and how did they go unnoticed? Thinking about this kind of thing was a lot more fun when it was guessing how a Daring Do book would play out.

The ball dropped out of the struggle, bouncing off of Lily’s rear right leg on its way down. Dash groaned angrily; it was just too far. There was no way anypony could get there in time, except Spitfire, who grinned as the stormball dropped into the lower cloud layer. The crowd grumbled as the mist picked up and the ref blew his whistle, swinging a hoof downward. He then picked up the ball and flew along a line between there and the center of the Ponyville goal. While moving quickly, the official placed the ball close enough to dead center between the two points that nopony really had any room to complain, except those who protested that Ponyville dropped a stone in the first place or the circumstances as to how it happened at all. Players from both sides headed toward the goal that Blossomforth guarded, most of them at lower elevations. Dash stayed further up, but she noticed that all of Cloudsdale’s defenders were darn close to the medial line. Ponies in white or red jerseys flew every which way as Spitfire pointed around Ponyville’s end of the playing area. Buckham had stopped close to Twilight yet again, with some mutual pushing going on. Soarin’ slipped in front of the midfielders, to which Spitfire immediately sent the ball his direction. Dash zipped toward Soarin’ as the he wheeled back toward his part of the field, rising over the Ponyville midfielders. Thundercracker, however, stayed at his post, and was there to meet him, preventing any kind of inside move. Soarin’ tried, nearly got the ball stolen, but continued down the pitch, heading towards dribbling it out of bounds and inducing a goal kick. Thundercracker followed suit, still blocking any realistic shot on goal, moving inward, or centering.

Suddenly Soarin’ air braked. The fullback could not slow down enough. Dash shot forward, trying to get in there as Buckham pushed hard off of Twilight. Soarin’ centered the ball to Buckham. He had enough distance to swat the ball at the goal, only changing its trajectory slightly and toward the high, far corner. Blossomforth popped over to catch, but she, Twilight, and Dash all missed that Spitfire had been racing in the whole time, and hit the ball the other direction. The ever-lithe Blossomforth stretched enough to get a hoof on the ball, but it hit the post and bounced into the net. Some rage from the stands sounded at the same time as the scoring siren, the clock reading 59:01.

Spitfire and Buckham hugged, laughing some, as he said, “You couldn’t have timed that any better! That was blinding!”

“Which is why I insisted we practice that play!” cheered Spitfire.

The two flew back, with celebratory hoof pumping and good-natured laughter. Buckham seemed then as he had throughout his career: a stormballer who loved the game with all his heart, playing it with the joy of a colt, and wanting nothing more than to be on the pitch all the time. He motioned to the other Wonderbolts on the Cloudsdale team and a few others, who followed Spitfire over to where the Cloudsdale fans were seated. Spitfire snapped to and held a proper salute to the cheering section of the crowd as behind her, a line formed of Buckham, Rapidfire, Fleetfoot, Soarin’, Misty Fly, McNimbus, and Reinaldo, in that order. Soarin’ appeared to be giving orders, but could not be heard over the crowd. Hoisting non-existent rifles in near-unison, they pointed them away from everypony, pretended to fire three shots apiece, lowered their “guns,” then returned to parade rest. Spitfire’s saluting hoof dropped back down. As they returned to their positions around the field, Dash nudged Twilight and said, “The mist just got darker.”

“I saw that,” she answered. “I have theories, but can’t test them right now!”

Twilight pointed Dash back towards the center of the pitch. Cloudsdale’s team had taken to their places by now. She hurried along, noticing some growing anger among her teammates. Lily Blossom, though, looked more upset with herself than anything else, and on the edge of tears. The head referee motioned at Dash to give a ready before she could check on her right forward. Muffins, however, tried talking to Lily Blossom from the sidelines, to which she did little more than sad nodding without speaking.

With the ball inbound, Dash focused on the task at hoof. She took the ball herself, moving in slowly. Buckham advanced on her at just as leisurely a pace. They were still in the middle circle as they drew near to each other, and enough that he reached for the ball, but not so committed that she could easily get around him. The crowd grumbled as another struggle over the ball began. Buckham appeared to be enjoying himself a little too much for Rainbow’s tastes. She snidely asked, “Having fun over there?”

“Of course!” he beamed. “I’m on the pitch, in a game, and up by two goals; why wouldn’t I be having fun? It’s the best place to be in the world!”

He sure does talk a lot for being involved in a scrum. Show-off.

“Where you can take pop-shots at my friend, Twilight Sparkle?” accused Dash.

Buckham paused a moment, but recovered enough that Dash could not make a clean break, veering towards Cloudsdale’s bench. He answered cluelessly, “What are you on about?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s the elbowing in the face, and your attempts to punch and kick her?” fired back Dash.

“Now just a minute!” protested Buckham. “The elbow was an accident, but never would I ever intentionally swing at royalty! I’m not stupid!”

Scoffing, Rainbow curtly said, “Bullshit! I watched you do it with my own two eyes! Don’t try to lie to me!”

“My Celestia, girl, I thought the Equestrian Enquirer came up with some bollocks about me, but you! You’re daft, saying such things! Never been slagged like this before!” Buckham said, his voice shocked and aghast, and his face scandalized.

I can multitask, too! I’ll show him he’s not the only one who can split his focus that well!

Dash paused in speaking a moment, spotting another opening that disappeared as soon as she made a move for it. The scrum continued sneaking towards the Cloudsdale sideline. Thunderlane adjusted his waiting position a bit higher as Dash angrily answered, “Whatever that’s supposed to mean! All I know from what I’ve seen, you should be arrested! You’re working for the Elevens, aren’t you!?”

Buckham nearly lost the scrum as he stared Dash, befuddled. He failed to shake the expression from his face as he said, “You’re absolutely barmy, you know that?”

Nearly frothing, Rainbow spat, “Stop lying to me, you son of a bitch!” with a hard shove to Buckham with both forehooves. Whistles blew all around her as the ball dropped to the lower cloud layer. The head ref flew up to beside Rainbow Dash, withdrawing a yellow card from his front pocket and holding it above his head. Cascades of boos were soon followed by a much darker haze in most of the stands.

Dash complained, “Oh, come on! I get yellow-carded, but he got nothing for elbowing the princess in the face!?”

The head ref turned to her, badgering, “One more word of it, and it’ll be red. Do I make myself clear?”

Defeated, she grumbled, “Yes sir.”

Buckham flew around in a circle at this exchange, shaking his head and a single dismissive gesture towards Dash. Sighing, she looked around. Bicycle Kick looked beside himself, red in the face, bellowing at a nearby ref, but inaudible above the angry fans. Behind him, in the first few rows of the stands, a number of foals sat wide-eyed and agape, their gaze spellbound upon the coach while nearby parents covered their little ones’ ears with sheepish faces. One mare rooted around her purse while her filly looked up at her with worried, drooped ears; finishing her search, the mother withdrew a bar of soap and stuffed it in the foal’s mouth. Muffins simply looked at Rainbow Dash, appalled and let down.

Slick, Dash. Get a hold of your temper!

She backed off as the head ref held his foreleg toward Ponyville’s end of the field, blowing his whistle. Soarin’ shot forward, breaking away from Cloudchaser upwardly. Buckham hammered the stormball in that direction before zipping forward himself. Reggie had moved toward Soarin’, nearly intercepting the pass, but ended up scrumming for the ball. Before the crowd could make their displeasure abundantly known, the violently yellow ball drifted out from between them with a wicked-fast clockwise spin on it. Buckham was closest, and used a series of light taps before dribbling in earnest, entering the penalty box. Twilight met him. He tried breaking to all sides, up and down, one after another, but could make no headway against the quick learner that ever has been Twilight Sparkle.

Not trying any funny business now, I see.

Buckham withdrew a length or two while Twilight gave him no quarter. He looked around, nearly losing the ball to her while his eyes were averted. Spitfire started in, then quickly backed off, creating enough separation that Buckham could pass with his rear legs. Ms. Cirrus closed on Spitfire, making better attempts to steal than she had all week. Spitfire used one overextension to move forward. Twilight cut her off, which left Buckham open in the middle. Spitfire made the obvious pass as Twilight adjusted, effectively blocking half of the net. Buckham spun at the ball, sending a spiraling shot on goal. Blossomforth watched, throwing herself toward the upper corner as the ball rotated in that direction, getting a hoof on it and bumping it just over the net.

The crowd cheered. Shaking his head, Buckham drifted over and shook the goalkeeper’s hoof. Spitfire ordered Soarin’ back toward the middle, to which he shrugged. Dash took a position just outside the penalty box, observing. Twilight looked down the pitch, scratching her chin, then her face perked up into the egghead’s all-but trademarked a-ha! smile.

Okay, Twi, I trust you, but what in the hoof are you planning?

Twilight’s horn began to glow, then her mane and tail began the floating, sparkling drifting behavior. Buckham regarded her suspiciously before turning his attention to the coming corner kick. Spitfire motioned some of hers around, wound up, and let the ball sail. Twilight disappeared in a magenta flash, rematerializing near the ball with a hard kick to it. The stormball flew unattended past the penalty box before another magenta flash with Twilight kicking it again. Then the flashes along the ball’s ever-changing path came in rapid succession, each fuchsia burst a vertex guiding the ball away from the Cloudsdale defenders before taking a firm drive on the goal, yet she managed to emerge from her teleportations behind the ball each time before laying into it again. During this, before the crowd noise grew, even Dash could understand Fleetfoot screeching, “This is exactly what I warned you about!!”

The shot came as Fleetfoot finished her scream. She was nowhere near the ball as it slammed into the back of the net, unable to predict Twilight’s final strike to the stormball. Hearing and seeing the kicks, the refs had no reason to negate the point nor call a penalty for illegal magic. The crowd had equal parts surprised laughter and cheering as the scoring siren sounded; the clock said 71:25.

Twilight’s mane and tail continued its floating as she hovered in the middle of Cloudsdale’s penalty box. Her demeanor and poise looked very much the regal part as she locked both eyes on the gray-jerseyed goalie in an imperious gaze. Fleetfoot blinked twice at her, then bowed deeply before the princess. Twilight gave her a courtly nod and a warm smile, then disappeared in another purple burst. She reappeared exactly at her starting position, still gripping the greater magic. Almost in unison, Ponyville’s team on the pitch knelt before their princess.

This kinda feels weird, kneeling to Twi like this, but that was so awesome!! Bet they won’t let the ball fly too far from anypony now!

Twilight snickered, saying, “Off your knees, my friends! You don’t need to bow to me, now or ever!”

They rose as one, rushing to hug Twilight as she let go of the high magic’s charge, looking like her normal self again. The cheers and praises of the brilliant goal sounded greatly. The biggest hug of the goal celebration, though, was just between Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle. Dash exclaimed, “That was AWESOME, Twi!! More than that! What word goes above ‘awesome,’ anyway?”

“In the truest sense of the word, nothing,” answered Twilight with a grin. “But for this, I could go with ‘magnificent,’ ‘stupendous,’ or ‘wondrous’.”

Moving apart, Dash scanned the Cloudsdale team. Their faces were floored, but they had gathered around Buckenbauer, who was speaking to them. They clapped their hooves in unison, and returned to their positions. As her eyes darted about, Dash’s face lit up with a gasp. She pointed toward the stands, and shouted to Twilight, “Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance cleared out one section! The dark mist there is gone!”

From the pitch, a crisply-defined region of the stands had no more dark mist in it. The edges were sharp, dividing the aisles up and down the rows of bleachers in half, just as firm a delineation along the fence between spectators and the field of play. Twilight answered, “Good! I noticed the mist strengthens when they’re mad! Winning this game might make them happy enough to break it altogether!”

I hope so, Twi...if you’re aware of what the Elevens are up to, you sure are taking it calmly.

Dash neared her position for resuming play.

That’s just the sickest thing in the world: enraging innocent ponies into doing your dirty work for you, just to keep your nefarious plans, as Derpy put it, hidden. Is anypony in the stands even aware of the mist?

The lower ref threw the ball up to Buckham, who quickly sent it back to Reinaldo and zipped forward, similar to the beginning of the game. Dash began closing in on him, but he passed it to Flurryfeather before she got there this time. Rainbow reversed her course, keeping Reinaldo as a non-viable passing option as Lily Blossom closed in on Flurryfeather. While a scrum began, it didn’t take long for Flurryfeather to give Lily the slip and move forward. Dash looked to her teammate, noticing her right forward’s mounting frustration and biting back tears. Lily gave chase, but could not keep up with her opponent. A pass went to Spitfire. She swerved and arced, keeping the ball from Flitter’s hooves while passing the bowed twin in very tight quarters. Reggie pressed to keep Buckham from getting too open, but in vain. The centering pass departed before Puffy could present herself as an obstacle to Spitfire.

What!? No, don’t!!

Dash’s eyes widened as she noticed Lily had broken formation, flying straight at Buckham. Twilight had him tied up, but he was gaining against her on the left. He almost had enough for a shot, but Lily was gritting her teeth, continuing her reckless course, approaching from the left and behind.

Dash shouted, “Lily, what’re you doing!?”

Buckham had the room, and wound up for the shot with his left rear hoof, in spite of Blossomforth’s position guarding the net, as Lily braced her forehooves over her face. Spitfire zipped in behind her, eyes like dinner plates and mouth open in horrified alarm.

Rainbow frantically screamed, “LILY, STOP!!”

Buckham swung his powerful leg to kick the ball, which had been knocked aside by Lily’s covered head. His hoof instead made its heavy impact on Lily Blossom’s right wing with a sickening crack. Both his forehooves went to his mouth and his eyelids tried to disappear completely as Lily shrieked in agony, losing all control of her right wing, and beginning to plummet. Worried oohs echoed around the stadium. Spitfire maintained her route and dove, catching the wounded mare on her back. The crowd applauded the rescue while Lily cried out in rattling, broken moans.

Blossomforth had both her forehooves behind the back of her head; tears glistened down the side of her face at the sight. Her posture was mirrored by a multitude both on and off the pitch. Buckham looked like he was about to cry, hooves still over his mouth, as he slowly retreated; Soarin’ and Reinaldo met him outside the penalty box, with McNimbus flying up from the middle circle. Dash overheard him speaking to the others, looking downward with one forehoof at his forehead, and his voice choked up and crushed with guilt, “I heard it break! Oh goodness, I broke her wing...!”

Rainbow went over to the Ponyville sidelines where Spitfire delivered Lily Blossom to the awaiting medics. Lily’s excruciating whimpers echoed clearly as crowd noise had fallen to near-zero. Dash patted Spitfire on the shoulder while she shook hooves with Bicycle Kick. A pair of aged pegasi, a deep blue mare and a bay stallion, flew out from the stands, both of them in tears. As Spitfire respected their space and left, Rainbow, sounding sad, shocked, and confused, asked, “Why, Lily? Why would you do that?”

Through the fragmented tears, Lily garbled, “I can’t...keep up...with them.” Medics were splinting her wing as the two out of the stands neared. She said through the moans, “I’m holding...us back. You need...Muffins...out there.”

Dash’s face and shoulders dropped. “Lily....”

Wincing, she struggled, “I also...saw the mist...in the stands. I saw when...it grew...and shrank...and what...it did to...everypony. I know it...can’t be good.” Lily turned her head toward Ms. Hooves. “Make them smile. It stops the mist. Go get ‘em...Derpy....”

Tears welled up in Muffins’s eyes. She whimpered, “Oh, Lily....”

Lily Blossom yelped as the medics lifted the stretcher, beginning a new round of tears. As they put her in the sky ambulance, the crowd applauded the fallen athlete. The older mare from the crowd stayed by Lily’s side, fiercely crying and sputtering, “Sweetie, be strong, sweetie....”

As medics closed the doors with the older pair in the vehicle, the stallion’s gentle but worried voice said, “It’s okay, baby filly. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here....”

Sniffles echoed around the team. Dash glanced over to see Bicycle Kick wipe a tear away. He then put a hoof on Ms. Hooves’s shoulder as he began, “It’s time.”

Muffins turned to look at him, her face full of guilt as the sky ambulance left with flashing lights. He emphasized, “Lily just sacrificed her own body to give you this chance. Don’t let it be in vain.”

Forcing back tears, she firmly answered, “Yes sir!”

Bicycle Kick huddled up his team. He said, “We’re switching it up, to a 3-2-3-2. Stormkicker, resume left wingback! Paper Moon, take right wingback! Thunderlane, you’re now center midfield! Dash, Center Striker!”

He paused a moment, turning both his eyes to Muffins before resuming, “Your time has come. You are Forward Striker. Be what you were born to be.”

“Yes sir!” Muffins fired back. The glint in her eye returned. She turned to the rest of the team, yelling, “Come on! Let’s win this! For Lily!”

“For Lily!” the rest answered. The crowd’s cheering resumed as they retook the field.

The head ref blew his whistle, holding a forelimb over his head. Buckham had an indirect kick from the edge of the penalty box. He directed his team around, then lofted the ball. Soarin’ moved in, and stopped as the whistles blew. Referees on both sides held up their flags, then pointed at Soarin’, as he realized he went past Twilight before the ball did. Busted offsides, he retreated out, though Dash and Muffins were watching Buckham closely. Black mist oozed out of his eyes again, but his face looked as though he were in pain. He clutched his belly wincing, and his voice wearily said to himself, “...keep fighting it...you must keep fighting it....”

Spitfire stopped with a pointed accusatory tone, “Keep fighting what?”

Buckham shook his head. The black mist had dissipated, and he looked and sounded more normal, saying, “It’s nothing. I’ll talk to you later about it.”

Spitfire watched him suspiciously as she took her place, awaiting the free kick. Muffins nudged Dash. Firmly she said, “That wasn’t ‘nothing.’ Something’s wrong. That looks like the same stuff drifting around the stands.”

“I know. I would love to tell you what’s going on, but I can’t. Not like I even know all the details…,” griped Dash.

Both Ponyville Strikers turned to their goalie, watching her place the ball and hover back a few lengths to take the free kick.

Author's Note

Eight chapters in, woo! I had suspected I may have needed to split the second half in two, at over 10,500 words after one proofreading, but my pre-reader confirmed that'd be a wise move. Means the second half of the second half should be coming up (does that make it the 4th quarter? :rainbowhuh: ) very soon indeed. Sure hope the lengths of the chapters hasn't been frustrating.... :applejackconfused:

So then! the score is 3-2 Cloudsdale up, but what's up with Buckham? And will Lily's sacrifice be enough? The conclusion is next. Thanks for reading, and take care of yourselves.

Epilogue

Twilight closed the door to the conference room, still wearing her Ponyville team jersey. She took her spot at the head of the table, looking across the worried faces of Princess Celestia, Princess Cadance, Captain Spitfire, Commander Soairn’, Commander Fleetfoot, Ensign Rainbow Dash, Ensign Stormbringer, and Sub-Lieutenant Thundercracker, the latter six wearing Wonderbolts dress uniforms, complete with neckties. Twilight shut the windows in the room with a quick flick of magic, and pulled the blinds to keep the late afternoon sun and any wandering eyes out. Princess Celestia began, “We really should wait for my sister.”

“Celestia, this is a security risk we need to address immediately,” replied Twilight, uncharacteristically blunt toward her mentor. “We’ll fill in Luna when she gets back.”

Twilight took a deep breath as she looked around the room. “I called you all here so that you’ll be fully aware of what happened in the stadium today. Everypony here was aware of the mist?”

The others in the room nodded. Twilight continued, “Good, that will save some explanation. Nopony in the stands knew about it. Everypony I called in to talk about what happened were all stunned at the news. They recall being angry, and not knowing why. Even those working concessions had the mist in their booths. Pinkie Pie said she knew she shouldn’t be angry, and tried to just let it go as she does, but couldn’t. She even described feeling ready to attack somepony, anypony, if they did something she didn’t like.”

“Pinkie said that?” asked Dash with uncertainty.

Twilight had a small grin for a moment, then elaborated, “Well, yeah, but she described it in terms of knocking the filling out of doughnuts and smashing cakes.”

Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance both snickered softly while shaking their heads. Rainbow nodded, muttering, “Yep. Definitely Pinkie for ya.”

Twilight gestured toward the only one in the room with a single silver bar on his uniform’s epaulette, saying, “Thundercracker, if you would, please.”

The Sub-Lieutenant stood at the table, looking across the others. He began, “They seeded the clouds to make the mist. Since each section of the stands was a reshaped cumulus cloud, they had to insert a device into each of those clouds. Unfortunately, these machines self-destructed whenever we got near one. We have no idea how they were made, or what they used to drive the black mist. But we do know their devices were the culprit, as they gave off some of that black mist when they fried themselves and broke apart. Being too close once when one self-destructed, I can say for certain the black mist reduced how aware I was of the world around me, and made me feel really mad. Both feelings quickly disappeared when the mist was gone.”

Fleetfoot asked, “So, when Her Majesty and Her Excellency broke through the black mist, it had those clear lines because the device affect only its own cloud?”

Twilight nodded, answering, “It sure looks like it.”

A nearly white, pale blue flash came over the table. There materialized Princess Luna, to the shriek of Princess Celestia. The lunar princess was bloodied, showing numerous cuts and even had a broken-off spear embedded in her flank. She lightly set herself down, leaning to one side. Off Luna’s back and onto the table slid an unconscious white pegasus mare with a curly yellow coat, with similar gashes from battle, but had several spear wounds in her side instead of just the one, leaving her Wonderbolts wingsuit barely recognizable. Luna lay down, breathing hard, unable to continue standing on those shaking legs. Running over to the wounded, smaller mare, Spitfire cried out, “Surprise!? Talk to me, girl! I need to hear you say something, Commander!!”

...oh. Oh dear me. I wouldn't hesitate to lay down my life for Twilight, or any of my friends, but...goodness, I never thought it’d really come to that....

Dash sat overwhelmed with an otherwise vacant expression. She looked around slowly as Twilight, Celestia, and Cadance all leapt up, a green ray coming out of each of their horns at Luna as both Twilight’s and Cadance’s mane and tail looked more like Celestia’s. The broken-off spearhead clattered to the floor as Soarin’ yanked it out, just before the healing spells patched up the royal backside. As Luna was able to stand up again, she joined her fellow princesses with the curative magic on Surprise. Her eyes fluttered open, as she said sounding half-awake, “Hey, Cap’n. I ran into some problems in Detrot.”

Thanks heavens...! I don't think I could stand to be in the room when somepony passes away...certainly not from battle wounds....

Tears filled Spitfire’s eyes as she hugged Surprise. Luna explained, “The conference had not been going well. But the talks were beginning to turn in the right direction, until word reached the city about Ponyville winning the game. That’s when they struck. They thought killing my guards and wearing their armor meant I wouldn’t notice the difference, nor their approach. They pulled out the spears when I demanded to know what happened to my actual guards. Surprise shielded me with her body. They would have pierced me through the neck and head it if weren’t for her bravery.”

Luna hung her head with some tears trickling down her face. “I don’t think any of the company representatives made it out of the room. I survived because I can teleport, and brought Surprise with me.”

“So they’re after all of us,” murmured Princess Cadance emptily. The others turned to her as she explained, “I thought it was just a lone assassin, in a dull orange and purple cloak that came after me that night.”

Twilight rushed over and hugged her old foalsitter. Smiling sadly, Cadance returned the embrace, saying to her, “Your brother is much quicker than ponies think he is. He caught her before she had done more than reach for a knife and opened a vial of some poison. I thought he was gonna kill that young mare, the one who tried to get me. When he went to seize her, she took the poison herself, preventing us from getting any answers. We didn’t talk about it, because panic is about the last thing we need.”

Even Princess Cadance!!? How can anypony hate the Princess of Love?

Silence. Cadance looked sad and a bit scared, while everypony else sat in disbelief. Twilight trudged back to her seat. Several started to move their mouths at one point or another, but could find no words. Surprise had gathered up enough of her strength to pull herself towards the edge of the table and lower herself into a chair.

Spitfire’s voice returned first as she croaked, “What about Buckham?”

Celestia answered quietly, “David will make a full recovery from his experience, at least, physically. I doubt he will ever visit Detrot again.”

Spitfire asked, “If you please, Your Majesty, what happened to him? You said he had been ‘implanted.’ What does that mean?”

Celestia turned to Twilight, who hastily looked around the room. “This last winter, after visiting a few Detrot high schools and talking with their student-athletes about professional athletics, stormball, and staying focused on long-term goals, he decided to take in the city sights. Mrs. Buckham was back in Cloudsdale at the time, two performances from the closing night of...can’t remember which opera, but that’s unimportant anyway. While he enjoyed a late lunch at a pub somewhere on the south side, he said somepony attacked him from behind and hit him at the base of the skull, knocking him out. When he came to, he said some ponies in dull orange and purple cloaks had him tied up. They pulled out a long black crystal and touched it to his belly button. He said the crystal forced itself into him, and he lost consciousness.”

Princess Celestia took over. “Since then, he’s been fighting something that’s not him in his mind, just to maintain control over himself. Every time he resisted that other presence’s commands and use of his person, it would stimulate pain receptors all over his body. He said it felts like he was both burning and freezing at the same. If he truly mounted a strong resistance, that crystal would create the black mist, the same kind we saw in the stands. This mist usually manifested itself as it exited out the tear ducts.”

Soarin’ began, “But there’s been many times we’ve seen the black mist coming out of his eyes! Reinaldo told us he saw it happen when he fumed about Your Majesties supposedly having total control over all our lives! How does that mean he was resisting it?”

“He actually mentioned that,” answered Twilight. “He’s been fighting it the whole time, knowing the physical pain he’d have to endure, but there’s only so much he can take at once. He tried to tell you or Spitfire over and over about the crystal embedded in him, but could not get through the pain. Every time you saw the mist out of his eyes, he was trying to talk about what happened. His talk with Reinaldo was when he tried blowing the cover off the Elevens’ plans. Cadance’s love-awakening spell gave him enough strength to get out most of a sentence directly on the matter.”

Fleetfoot respectfully disagreed, “Begging your pardons, Your Majesty, Your Highness, but are you really that certain he was honest? I recall being asked to leave the room after you got the crystal out of his belly.”

Cadance replied, “Commander, do you really think there is anything in the world that can hoodwink a veritas spell cast at alicorn level by not one, not two, but three princesses? It’s why we’re convinced he told the truth.”

Luna asked, “What else do we know about this black crystal?”

“It has a green sheen in the right lighting, and acts as though it were sentient,” anwered Twilight. “Shortly after the Wonderbolts left the room, we saw it ‘melt’ and disappear through the floor.”

“That means there could be any number of ponies controlled by these crystals around Equestria, waiting for the moment to strike,” surmised Luna. “So...clearly the Elevens are patient, and plan their moves long in advance.”

“Or they may snag any number of ponies, see what they can do, then form plans around their abilities,” suggested Stormbringer.

Celestia said irritably, “From what Buckham was saying, and how he said it, I’m more likely to agree with my sister. They had this game in mind for months.”

“At least we kept those plans from working!” chimed in Dash, leaning back with her hooves behind her head, looking very self-satisfied.

“No, Dash.” Rainbow Dash sat upright, staring at her friend in shock. Twilight was shaking her head discontentedly. She said, “No. Their plan worked, and too well.”

“Twi, you’re still here, kicking and breathing! What about that isn’t foiling an assassination?” Rainbow griped in exasperation and confusion.

Twilight sighed. “Soarin’ mentioned the chat between Buckham and Reinaldo, when Buckham said something about the princesses having total control over the common ponies’ lives. How do you think it looked to others, that Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance intervened when the audience wasn’t feeling emotions they approved?”

“You know that’s not what they were doing!” protested Dash.

“I know that, you know that, everypony here does too, but what about those didn’t see it firsthand?” asked Twilight. “We’ll need to check every major newspaper’s sports sections and editorials over the coming days, to see how they’ll play up the intervention to sway those who weren’t there.”

“What about them attacking Princess Luna!? You can’t tell me that will play to their advantage, too!”

Luna shook her head sadly. “They can, and will, spin that to their advantage. It was no secret the revitalizing conference wasn’t going well, that these business ponies weren’t convinced material investments in Detrot would benefit both the city and their companies. Then they all end up dead behind closed doors by ponies in the Night Guards’ uniforms while the princess teleports away. How do you think that looks to others?”

Rainbow Dash appeared distraught, unwilling to accept the clever play by the enemy to erode at the common ponies’ opinions of Their Majesties. She sighed long and low, slowly closing her eyes. Twilight resumed, “In Pferdland, or Germane as most ponies call the place, they use the word ‘zugzwang’ for moments like this. In acting for the safety of others, either one of us dies, or public opinion of us drops, either of which strengthens their political position. This cannot be allowed to continue. We have to do something, and soon….”

The Second Half, pt. 2

Dash took a post about halfway between the penalty box and the closest point of the middle circle and slightly to the right, watching for the coming free kick. Muffins hovered nearby, but closer to the central line, and to Dash's left. They awaited as Blossomforth gave her commands among the wingbacks and midfielders, who then all changed direction and elevation. Blossomforth sent the ball down the pitch. Reggie turned back to see he was supposed to get it, but moved in a direction Blossomforth did not intend. He folded in his left wing slightly as he flapped vigorously with his right, then tucked into a dive. Reggie barely got to the ball before Spitfire, though the resulting scrum was short-lived. Spitfire took the ball into the penalty box, looking for an opening. Twilight encroached on Spitfire’s personal space much quicker than she was prepared to face. This scrum, too, ended swiftly, with Twilight taking the ball from Spitfire in a matter of seconds. Twilight rushed forward as Spitfire hovered there agape, spluttering, “How does she learn that fast...?!”

Nopony knows, captain, but that was awesome, Twi!

Cheers rang out from the stands as Twilight began moving up the pitch, rising. Buckham met her height, cutting off her advancement, and moving in. She let the ball drop a split-second before kicking it with her rear legs while her body remained vertical, passing the ball downward as well as forward. Buckham could not drop quickly enough. He looked back up at her, meeting her gaze as she vanished in a fuchsia pop. Paper Moon blocked Reinaldo from taking the pass, which allowed its safe travel to Dash’s awaiting hooves. She faced up the pitch to find McNimbus was already challenging her and going for the ball. As he attempted to initiate a scrum, Dash bounced the ball off the outside of the aging stallion's outstretched left forehoof, veering to the right and resuming control of the ball. Muffins was ahead of her, a few lengths in front of Buckenbauer. Dash picked up speed seemingly going directly at the Cloudsdale Sweeper. Ms. Hooves gave her friend a grin, and flew back from Buckenbauer slowly, parallel to the goal’s front, towards Dash’s left. Rainbow began to roll some to the right. Cometeer moved to cover Muffins as Dash’s angle changed again, straightening out. Rapidfire started closing, but moved to cover part of the goal. Buckenbauer broke for Dash. She swung her left forehoof toward the ball, faking the shot and kicking it to her left with her rear leg. In an instant the ball was to Muffins, who smacked it at the goal. Fleetfoot had begun to dive, but had to stop herself as she had overshot its trajectory. She stretched enough to get a hoof on the ball, and knocked it below the net. A ringing of metal sounded as the ball glanced off the pole on its way out of bounds. As the refs pointed to the corner, Fleetfoot stared in shock at Muffins.

So close. Then again, Fleetfoot’s taken The Derby three years in a row.

Dash started toward the corner, but felt a tugging at her tail stopping her. Looking back, she saw Muffins shaking her head. She pointed toward her midfielders. Each of them moved in per her emphatic hoof motions: Flitter went to the corner, Thunderlane posted near the penalty box’s corner, and Cloudchaser hovered near the center of the pitch, barely on her designated side at all. Muffins prodded Rainbow Dash a bit out from the goal box corner while she waited next to Buckenbauer. Flitter took the corner kick and made it short, straight to Thunderlane. He arced around back toward center. Rapidfire had seen enough, and closed sky on him, initiating a scrum. Chanting rose from the stands, increasing in volume, “Derpy Hooves! Derpy Hooves!”

YES...!! I love it!

Two sections of home side stands were free of the black haze; at the front of them stood a brown earth pony stallion wearing a green bowtie and a dark red fez, bearing a golden hourglass cutie mark, leading the chant. Ms. Hooves squealed with delight, “Doc!! Oh, I so wished you’d be here to see me!”

Thunderlane slapped the ball downward out of the scrum intentionally. Rapidfire dove after it, only to find Flitter got there first. Flurryfeather was right on her tail, trying to force another scrum. Instead, Flitter slapped the ball behind her, just as Thunderlane got there. Dash quickly moved in on Buckenbauer, pushing him with her back, toward the goal on the right side of the pitch, as Ms. Hooves surged into the gap before the net. Thunderlane sent her the pass. Just as it got there, Muffins hurricane-kicked the ball, sending it just over Dash’s head and Buckenbauer’s reach. Fleetfoot zipped after the shot, barely knocking it away and over the net. The speedy goalie shook her hoof that saved the goal, mouthing an “ow,” while Flitter returned to the corner on Muffins’s gestured commands. Fleetfoot looked around at her defenders, shaking her head in disbelief, eyes still wide. Sounding both empty and in denial, she ordered, “Franz, keep her covered tightly. She’s too accurate. I cannot keep her shots out much longer!”

Oh...I see what you’re saying!

Flitter wasted no time in sending the corner kick in as Muffins gestured behind her back at Dash toward the goal. Dash wound herself up as the ball sailed in. Ms. Hooves got some separation from Buckenbauer and went for the header. Dash moved on cue as Fleetfoot grasped for the ball. Just before the yellow sphere reached the goalie, Rainbow lightly tapped it upward from below, moving the ball up just out of Fleetfoot’s reach. It entered the net to the sound of the scoring siren while the clock displayed 84:47. Everything in Fleetfoot’s face and posture said she could not believe this turn of events. The crowd cheers sounded ecstatic as Dash and Muffins flew into an elated, laughing hug. Ms. Hooves whooped, “We got an equalizer!! You did it perfect!!”

“You planned that perfect!! We’re so close!!” Rainbow cheered joyously as they headed back toward their side, their teammates greeting them with hugs and delighted laughter. Around the stadium, the haze had mostly lifted. Cloudsdale’s section, though, remained fairly dark, though a yellow light shone through it from above.

Taking their places outside the middle circle, Dash and Muffins looked at each other, and hugged again, all smiles. They separated with a hoofbump. Looking over, they saw Buckham at the center, awaiting the ball with a look of somepony ready to throttle somepony else.

Who’s laughing now, buddy? Who’s laughing now!?

Muffins urged, “We’ll have to hurry. I don’t think we can get them if it comes to PKs.”

Rainbow said, “I know. But we’ve got them on the run!”

“Don’t get cocky. It’s not over yet,” Ms. Hooves pressed as the lower ref tossed up the ball. Buckham quickly sent it all the way back to McNimbus while he and Reinaldo moved in. Dash advanced on Cloudsdale’s center midfielder, who appeared livid over the score being tied. McNimbus glowered at her as she entered scrum range. Dash quickly made for the ball, catching him off-guard with her raw speed, but he answered with his experience. Something in Princess Celestia’s eye caught Dash’s attention right then, an honest-to-goodness look of worry at the dark haze, counterbalanced against a corporate ad on the wall that featured the alabaster alicorn's warm, gentle smile.

Sure is funny how much happens because of everypony who invested themselves in a game that didn’t need to be played...if they push the crowd into trying to kill her, what will that do to her reign? Or all those businesses who spent who knows how many bits on these ads? How much different would it be if the princesses lost the will of...NO! Don’t even think like that! You really don’t even have time for this right now! Focus!

Dash gained some advantage for the ball, getting a hoof on it, and beginning to take it away. Just as she broke loose, McNimbus got one last hoof on the ball, a sharp kick from below that sent the ball almost true vertical, and into the upper cloud layer. He gave no hesitation as he flew up, giving his teammates commanding gestures. Muffins did the same as Dash watched her, rising up to face McNimbus over the meteor.

This doesn’t feel high enough...like he’s intentionally sitting lower than five meters below the upper layer.

Above the cloud layer a ref dropped the ball, immediately patching the hole behind it. Both eyed its descent intently. Rainbow poised all-wound up and ready to take off with it towards the goal, but McNimbus tapped it over her head just as she was about to make her move. Reinaldo had been waiting, right behind her. Dash shook her head. “Nice timing. That had to be at five meters exactly, when you hit it.”

McNimbus patted her on the back. “Thanks, and yes. Youth and talented against age and experience...the experience will win it nine times out of ten.”

Reinaldo was down the pitch some already, staying far enough back from Thunderlane to have an easy out if Thunderlane wished to contend with him. Dash kept passing it back to McNimbus out of the question as Reinaldo lowered himself close to medial elevation, gesturing around towards his teammates, who struggled at getting open against a surprisingly effective zone defense. Tom shouted, “Watch your six!”

Muffins zipped in from behind Reinaldo and ever so slightly his left. The Cavalonian turned just in time to see her tap the ball away from his near-stationary dribbling, scoop it up and flare out her wings, just as quickly going the direction whence she came. Reinaldo could not react as she flew under him, driving down the pitch. Dash showed her youth’s speed beat McNimbus’s experience, taking the higher sky as they closed on Cloudsdale’s fullback again, to the sound of the crowd, “Derpy Hooves! Derpy Hooves!”

The head ref signaled five minutes of stoppage time.

She’s right. We can’t beat them in PKs. I’ll score, she’ll score, but that’s it. I don’t think Blossomforth can handle Buckham, Reinaldo, and McNimbus in penalty kicks. Gotta hurry up...!

Dash dove towards Buckenbauer, who was blocking Muffins’s path. Rapidfire and Cometeer had also closed sky on her, forming an arc. Rainbow zipped up to Buckenbauer, working to alleviate his obstruction. She turned around, backing herself into him, forcing Buckenbauer in the direction of Cometeer. Muffins wound up and kicked before Rapidfire could fill the gap, watching it bend, and bend again! Fleetfoot’s eyes went wide. Then Dash felt herself move too quickly. She turned her head to see Buckenbauer had slipped out from behind her, towards Muffins, as the whistle blew. Fleetfoot had dove after the ball anyway, not enough to stop it from going into the net, but that was of no consequence. Dash clapped her hooves once in frustration...she fell into Buckenbauer’s favourite trick, and found herself offsides. As she retreated from Cloudsdale’s penalty box, she heard Fleetfoot mutter, “That was too close. I think we lucked out!”

Yes. Yes you did. Damn....

Buckenbauer gave the directions non-verbally, then kicked...nothing. He did not kick the ball. He completely missed it. Fleetfoot, however, make clean contact, sending the ball to Cometeer. Dash promptly moved to close distance. Cometeer slid to her left, then dipped down when Muffins moved to block a central approach. Recovering, Dash soon was back on her opponent, but not before Cometeer passed to Misty Fly. Rainbow flapped harder, trying to catch up.

We’re spread too thin up high for this!

Misty Fly grinned, and quickly advanced near the upper cloud layer where there was a distinct lack of white jerseys. She passed to Reinaldo. Cloudchaser closed the gap quicker than expected, and finally provided enough resistance to slow Cloudsdale's advances. She could not keep the area beneath her covered well enough to prevent a centering pass from above to Buckham. Both wingbacks converged, eliminating any effective chance at passing to the wings. At the end of the penalty box Buckham wound up and blasted the ball, another of his signature spirals...but Twilight was grinning. She adjusted herself half a length to her left and slapped the ball as it arced near, sending it over Thundercracker’s head with a lopsided spin. Soarin’ got there as it started downward, at the edge of the penalty box.

Yes! YES!! DO IT!!

Soarin’ tried to direct Buckham. The palomino got wide-eyed, motioning upward. Soarin’ paused in confusion, just to see a gray blur shoot downward in front of him, a dive from above, taking the ball towards the middle of the field. Buckham could not get there as Muffins zipped on by, and Soarin’ mused to himself, “She's incredible!”

Reinaldo held the middle ground, just past the outside of the central circle. Ms. Hooves wasn’t slowing or even changing direction. She had a bee-line course set, straight through him, with Dash almost in a line with her along the left wing. The chant rang out anew, “Derpy Hooves! Derpy Hooves!”

As she approached Reinaldo, she tipped the ball forward just quick enough he could not get a hoof on it, and pulled her wings in while she jetted past within five centimeters of colliding. He whirled about, starting to pursue but quickly realized she was too fast to catch. Chuckling, he said, “That marrre is professional grade.”

McNimbus lay in wait past the middle circle in a slow retreat, about twice as far from the penalty box than from the central line. All of Muffins’ face was unbridled determination cordially tucked into a slight frown. He moved to interrupt her path, but she tapped it over his head while steering herself equally close underneath his holding position. With smile as he shook his head, he cheered, “There’s the gal we wanted to draft!”

Only Buckenbauer remained between Muffins and Fleetfoot. Rapidfire moved to cover part of the goal while Cometeer prevented Dash from being open to take a pass or shot. Buckenbauer stymied her every attempt, adjusting his defense to keep Muffins from having a shot without getting into a scrum. Cometeer and Dash were in a tangle of shoves while Ms. Hooves kept looking for a way around. McNimbus approached from behind. Dash spun herself, weakening Cometeer’s shove and left the fullback off-balance. Muffins quickly passed as Rainbow got clear, but Cometeer had already recovered, preventing a shot. A magenta flash caught her attention. Twilight was already in, boxing out Buckenbauer. He found his best means to throw an attacker offsides would not work, as Twilight was at least ten centimeters taller than most ponies since becoming an alicorn. Combined with the earth pony strength, she had little difficulty moving Buckenbauer a fair distance from the play. Muffins had rose up in altitude to keep Rapidfire off her back. Rainbow pulled a feint, starting in on the center with a sudden stop, creating enough separation to pass the ball. While there was still time, Dash centered it, screaming, “Derpy! Shot!!”

The unrelenting march of time has always been a constant in the strictest sense, yet anypony who lived to adulthood could claim there were moments it seemed to slow, whether in a boring class at school, or in a very first kiss, or so on. Dash looked on as one of these unfolded before her. The eye-searing yellow ball seemed to amble along with the hard, strong flaps of everypony present that also showed no sense of urgency through her eyes. Muffins blinked slowly, then, with the stormball on its way to her, Dash could swear for the rest of her days that she saw both of those yellow eyes lock in on the inbound ball. Taking a deep breath, Ms. Hooves began to spin, that spin. The ball came to Muffins, and her rear left leg had come around the rotation precisely when it should, making the wicked kick hit with perfection. The ball moved in a counterclockwise whorl, but everypony watched in baited breath, thinking it descended too sharply to rotate in. Buckenbauer tried to block it anyway, missing his mark by moving too late. Fleetfoot did as well, to the same end. A heavy clang rang out as it slammed into the side pole, and another as it bounced to the pole on the other side of the net, and rebounded all the way in on the second ricochet.

Time “resumed” at its normal pace as the scoring siren sounded, but was drowned by the screaming cheers of the stadium. The mist was gone. Ponies ran everywhere, hoofbumps all around, strangers hugging strangers. Even Princess Celestia danced on the breeze with Princess Cadance, both bounding and giggling with all dignity gone. But the loudest scream of joy came from a gray mare, running down the lower cloud layer on two legs with eyes closed and no shortage of happy tears, followed closely, both in volume and in location, by a cyan blur with a prismatic trail behind it. Euphoria deluged the minds of the entire Ponyville team so much so, that even Bicycle Kick was in on the gleeful screaming and hugging every which way. Dash tackled Muffins into a giddy embrace, both parties happy beyond words, jumping up and down on their hind legs, atop the lower cloud layer. The rest of the team soon piled on, none able to form a coherent word. Before long, referees were there, pulling ponies up and blowing whistles.

As they got up, the head ref barked, “Accounting for the goal, you still have thirty-seven seconds of stoppage time left! Either take your positions or forfeit! There will not be this kind of excessive celebration during the game!”

Ponyville’s team flew up to their posts, most of them still overjoyed and still giggling. Four goals to three, and for the first time since they began playing all the FISA teams, Cloudsdale was down. Dash looked out on the Cloudsdale team. Most of them simply looked shocked, in total disbelief. Fleetfoot, though, appeared shipwrecked. Buckenbauer was talking to her and rubbing her back as she slowly hovered, her eyes with a kilometer stare at nothing in particular. Spitfire just shook her head, though it seemed to Dash that she suppressed a smile. However, Buckham looked ready to murder anypony who gave him a funny look, let alone more.

The lower ref tossed the ball upward at the center of the pitch. Buckham dribbled it forward with a surge, trying between Dash and Muffins. He evaded the former, though the latter did get a hoof on the ball and caused him to suddenly slow down to recollect it. Pressing, he zipped onward before either Ponyville Striker could do much more than start in his direction. Buckham jetted between Flitter and Thunderlane. Paper Moon proved to be an obstacle again, but not much more of one that Muffins had been a moment ago. It was long enough that Reggie could hinder Buckham a bit further, but definitely not stop. Still he advanced, seeing just Twilight between him and Blossomforth as the crowd began counting down from ten. The princess had the whole waving, sparkling mane going for her again. As he prepped a shot, she vanished and reappeared right in front of him, her rear leg already in motion as she rematerialized from a teleport, knocking the stormball straight up. It slowed just enough that it barely came into contact with the upper cloud layer. Buckham zipped upward, then just stopped. A meteor meant a five-second wait before they dropped the ball, and he saw the clock only had three left. He hung his head as the realization came: Twilight had bested him at his own game.

Delighted cheers resounded loudly all around the stadium as time expired. Spike ran in circles, both fists over his head in triumph. Bicycle Kick himself had happy tears, well, until those on the bench gave him the traditional winning coach’s bath; after that the elderly stallion looked half-frozen. Pegasi flew from the stands out onto the pitch, meeting the players, though mostly the retirees got the attention. Plenty of avid stormball fans vied for their chance to talk with the greats, but one did not look okay to talk to for now. Players from both teams had some time to freely talk to each other. Dash looked over as Muffins caught up with Doc; he was heartily laughing with exuberant waving of his hooves for a good moment. As they stood looking toward the pitch, he stopped and hugged her with both forelegs. Rainbow smiled at the sight of Muffins getting a little pink in the cheeks, then leaning her head against his with a slight smile.

Aww...not surprised she feels that way about him, but does he know that?

“Hey, Dash.”

Rainbow turned to see Soarin’. He gave her a smile and a hug, but could not mask his disappointment. Dash said, “Hey! You were awesome today! And it was a blast!”

He answered softly, “You’re pretty awesome yourself...Ensign.”

Her eyes widened briefly. A slight hesitation on her part, then she quietly said, “Thank you, sir. Is there a reason we’re whispering?”

“You are still on clandestine assignment,” he said. He looked around, then hissed in her ear, “Watch the captain for a signal with her left wing. Commander Fleetfoot will be talking to the suspect, intending to flush him out. You must always be ready as a Wonderbolt, Ensign.”

“Yes sir.”

“Post by where Reinaldo is now. The suspect is almost in position,” Soarin’ ordered. “Go.”

Dash gave a curt nod, as she hovered toward Reinaldo, watching toward Spitfire. Epinephrine raced through her veins at the mere thought of Twilight being bait for a monster. She could hear her heart pounding in her own eardrums again. A twist developed in her stomach. While her hovering went unimpeded, her legs felt burdened and unmoving, as if somepony went and tied a fifteen kilo weight to each of them. She knew this feeling, and she hated it. Anxiety. And fear. Fear for one of those she held closest.

I shouldn’t be afraid. I mean, we’re Wonderbolts, for pity’s sake! We’re the best fliers in Equestria! Surely we can do this, right?

Dash sighed aloud, looking on as Spitfire landed on the lower cloud layer, talking with Flitter.

I guess living the dream isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. All I wanted was to be in the stunt flying shows, not in a military unit. But, from how Soarin’ just gave me that order, it sounds like the shows aren’t even close to the majority of being a Wonderbolt. Oh well. At least I still get to hang with Twi. Hey, I think I get paid to do that, now! Gotta keep the princess safe, and who better to do that than me? Ha! Maybe this is gonna be an awesome gig!

“Ah, Rrrainbow Dash!” called out Reinaldo.

“Hey! Um...should I call you ‘Chris,’ or ‘Mr. Reinaldo,’ or something else?” asked Dash with tempered uncertainty.

Reinaldo chuckled. “Calling me ‘Chris’ is acceptable. It is what my teammates say.”

“Cool! That game got a little nuts, huh, Chris?”

“The game was good, yes, but events surrrrounding the game werrre absurd,” commented Reinaldo.

Dash was barely listening. From the lower cloud layer, Spitfire flapped out her left wing twice while looking around and leaving her right folded at her side. Flitter appeared confused by this, but Dash focused her attention on Buckham, whom Fleetfoot approached from the side. Reinaldo leaned partially into Dash’s field of vision with his eyes on her, then looked around at some of the others gathered here. He lifted his chin as he closed his eyes. “I see. So you arrre a Wonderbolt as well, no? Please, be carrreful with Da’fid.”

Reinaldo patted Dash on the back and backed away, watching Buckham. Her ears both pointed at Fleetfoot. Through the din surrounding all the early celebrations and other ponies’ conversations, she managed to discern what she was saying. “I’m not real happy about it, either, Dave. I guess Princess Twilight was right about that old saying: ‘You can’t win them all.’ Gave it a good go, though, huh?”

Buckham shook his head in disappointment, but his eye spoke of rising anger. Fleetfoot continued, “I really don’t get it. I mean, Her Highness is brilliant, a genius to be sure, but picking up stormball that well in under a week? She has to be more talented than us at this game; maybe you, too.”

“What are you on about now?” grumped Buckham, unable to fully hide his budding rage.

Fleetfoot looked at Twilight a moment, resuming her words before turning back to him midway. “She’s amazing. Is there nothing she can’t do when she puts her mind to it? I guess Her Majesty was correct, that Twilight Sparkle deserved her coronation, that she is better than us. Look at how she played the game! Her actions accounted for a seven-point swing in their favor, between stopping our goals or beginning the drives when they scored! And after playing this game for less than a week!”

Buckham’s jaw began to shake as he looked over at Twilight, who was engrossed in a conversation with Buckenbauer. Fleetfoot had not finished. “But the worst part was how many foreign dignitaries were here to see it. I saw the Prench Prime Minister take her seat; she certainly looks pleased with Princess Twilight’s leadership and effort. The Emirs of Saddle Arabia also came, as did the Midillish Sultan. And there were certainly others I missed, judging from the languages I heard.”

The lisping commander closed in on Buckham as she said, “The whole world watched as she dropped you at your own sport, after we thrashed all of them. She alone accounted for a bigger share of points scored and denied than anypony else, including you. She proved herself better in five days than you did in thirty-seven years. I think I’d be mad, too.”

Wow. Overdoing it much? I knew Fleetfoot could be a real piece of work, with how the Equestria Games tryouts went, but I didn’t think she’d be a total bitch all the time!

Fleetfoot moved up so that her mouth was right beside his ear, continuing with both her face and voice goading, “Hell, I think I’d be right-royally pissed off, and ready to do something, if I was ever so completely, thoroughly, and absolutely embarrassed on the global stage like that. But what can you do? She’s a princess! She’s above us all. And she will be, for life!”

Oh hell...!!

Buckham roared, eyes full of hate, as he rocketed off directly at Twilight Sparkle with a dark smudge in his wake. Dash could not have started that fast from a stop, nor could anypony else. None of the Wonderbolts could get there in time. Twilight turned toward him, her mane and tail already drifting, and fired a magenta beam from her horn at him. A pale yellow and a sky blue beam also struck Buckham at the same time, stopping him dead in his flight in some luminescent aura. Twilight slowly approached him as Princess Celestia and Princess Cadance lowered themselves down, all the beams still connected to the swirling glow around him. Twenty-five ponies all swooped in and positioned themselves around the trapped Buckham, each looking ready to fight, including every recognized Wonderbolt, Rainbow Dash, Stormbringer, Thundercracker, Thunderlane, and Windy Clouds. Twilight spoke to her royal peers, “I have him.”

How did he move that fast...??

Celestia and Cadance released their holding spell. Buckham could move within the magenta field surrounding him, but could not push the field any. Celestia’s horn glowed, and a wide yellow ray began slowly sweeping over the captured pony. A soprano voice with a similar accent to Buckham’s behind Twilight shrieked, “David, love, what were you thinking!?!”

A milky white, golden maned, green-eyed pegasus with a shattering glass goblet for a cutie mark, Lilting Angel-Buckham, tore over toward her husband. Spitfire halted her, until Cadance gently said, “Let her pass, Captain.”

Blue sparks danced around Cadance while Lilting stared in horror at the dark look on her husband’s face, her tears flowing freely. A red heart popped from the end of Cadance’s horn. It meandered towards the restrained stormballer, bursting upon his forehead. He shook his head, to which the black mist poured out of his eyes. He writhed and groaned in pain, forcing a stare at his wife, weakly saying, “...my darling...help me...help the princesses free me from....” His eyes glazed a moment as his movements froze. A tense moment passed without a word before his eyes resumed their malice and hatred. A primal shriek left his mouth instead of any object for the hanging preposition. His thrashing began anew.

Free him from the Elevens? But...what’s going on?

Princess Celestia gasped, her wide beam narrowed and fixed at a point in his midsection. All eyes turned to their sovereign. Celestia’s face was one of shock and alarm, with some disgust mixed in. She slowly turned toward Mrs. Buckham, speaking in a grim tone. “He’s been implanted.”

...oh. Holy hell. My goodness, how low can you get? Sending somepony unwilling to do your work by mind control...I’m gonna be sick....

Twilight turned to her fellow princesses. “Get him to my lab immediately, and take the main Wonderbolt contingent and Mrs. Buckham with you. We have to get that out of him!”

Celestia nodded as Cadance took over the restraining spell. As the non-Ponyville pegasi gathered around, Princess Celestia began charging up her horn with a small giggle. Cadance looked over at her aghast, demanding, “Auntie, what are you laughing at!?”

A second layer of glow encompassed Celestia’s horn as she happily replied, “Twilight really has grown, and learned, so much. My faithful student took all my lessons seriously, no matter the challenge or the subject. I always wondered how it would be, if the shoe was on the other hoof, and I’m about to find out.”

A bright, sun-yellow glow encompassed those two dozen ponies, and they disappeared with a loud pop. Most of the audience looked dumbfounded, but the applause resumed as Bicycle Kick motioned his team over to him, in front of the stands where Ponyville’s residents sat. The Cakes, Pinkie, Greasy Mack, Lyra, and Bon-Bon had all come out of their booths and joined their fellow townsfolk, hooting and hollering their cheers with the rest of town. Twilight and Dash were the last two to join the others, and stood next to Muffins. Bicycle Kick gave them all a wide smile. “It’s time we had a song!”

The team cheered, and the crowd returned to them the same. Blossomforth suggested, “Let’s sing The Canon!”

Bicycle Kick chuckled as he shook his head. He looked her in the face and said, “Dear granddaughter, you’re the only one here who went to Pranceton. Nopony else here knows the words.” A smattering a laughs rang out among the team and the front few rows of stands.

“I had to try,” answered the goalkeeper with a shrug and grin.

Muffins spoke up, “How about Hail to Our Team? It’s short, and I think we all know the words.”

“Just so long as we switch out ‘our team’ with ‘Ponyville!’” said Dash.

Ms. Hooves laughed, “I thought that went without saying!”

The team murmured in agreement. Following the coach’s lead, they started clapping in unison, at an allegretto tempo. Bicycle Kick shouted in the beat of the clapping, “One, two, three, four!” And they sang:

“Hail! to the noble vict’ry!
Hail! to the shining triumph!
Hail! Hail! to Ponyville,
Who we cheer and stand!
Hail! to the noble vict’ry!
Hail! to the shining triumph!
Hail! Hail! to Ponyville,
The gem of all the land!”

Everypony cheered, with hugs all around. The team started back toward the locker room, except Twilight, who disappeared as she teleported away. Dash and Muffins were still smiling as they slowly flew together towards the locker room. The two looked at each other for a moment, and they began chortling some more, still delighted in the big win and how they got there. Dash said, “Wow. What a day!”

“It’s not every day you fulfill a life-long dream!” exclaimed Muffins.

“Yeah. It really isn’t,” said Dash, slowly nodding. Clapping the gray mare on the shoulder, she posed, “You know, Muffins, I think we have the start of an awesome friendship.”

Chuckling, Ms. Hooves pulled her into a side-hug, and looked her in eye. “Please, Dash,” she said, “call me Derpy.”

Fin

Author's Note

Okay! I have m' first fic completed! Glad that you were willing to read through it. And yes, I know, I know...I ripped off The Victors (Michigan's fight song). :twilightblush: But hey, it got switched around not unlike any Weird Al parody song, or the overwhelming majority of high schools around the country (my high school stole its fight song from Notre Dame, and m' wife's high school borrowed the tune from Wisconsin). :rainbowwild: I regret nothing...!

Thanks for reading, and take care of yourself.