Spitfire, Soarin, Rapid Fire, Fleefoot, and Star Fry, all sat in a large carriage in the large city of Baltimare. They preferred to fly, but it's best if they go by carriage to keep the fans away. It is a bright sunny day made by Celestia herself, and what a beautiful day it is. Rapid Fire is a grey pegasus stallion with a puffy, curly white mane. He looks at the familiar sights, filled with nostalgia of when he grew up in that city when he was a foal, but his train-of-thought is short lived when it's interrupted by the sound of chewing.
"Soarin, can you slow down? Your chewing is getting a little loud, you kind toning it down a bit?" Rapid fire asked, his accent still fresh as if he just moved from Baltimare. He strives to keep his accent safe, for he misses his beloved city and doesn't want to lose what makes him Baltimare.
"Bu' ish sho good!" Soarin whined, his mouth still filled. He was a light blue stallion with a darker blue Wonderbolt-spiked mane. To this day, everypony still wonders how he became second in command, despite his lower-than-average intelligence and his addicted-love to pie, but his wings proved to be faster than his mind, which is well assumed that that must be why, but that reason isn't good enough.
"Soarin, how you not fat? Is still mystery to me." says Star Fry, a rookie with a dark coat with a yellow and red stripped Wonderbolt-spiked mane, who was already well known among the fans for beating the top fliers twice in a row, and being the first pegasus in fifty years from the second island of Luna Bay. His voice was deep, and his accent was due to the fact that he originally spoke more Yak than Equestrian, since the island he lived on was closer to Yakyakistan.
"He does exercise more than the rest of us do..." Fleefoot noted, a light blue coated mare, like Soarin, only her Wonderbolt-spiked mane was white instead of navy blue. She only spoke when adding to what another pony said or replying, it was incredibly rare to see her speak first. Whenever she is asked, she always says 'cause I keep my eyes open and my mouth shut, mostly; it keeps ya from crashing and losing another race'.
"True. Just chew quieter, Soarin; for sake of rest of us." Star Fry says, and Soarin nodded and decided to simply savor it, which he finds to be a much better idea. The crunchy texture, the delicious juices of grapes, apples, straw berry, or whatever flavor of pie it was. Soarin never cares what flavor, all pie is good; it has that combination of thick crunchiness that feels good when swallowing, and that juiciness to further add the flavor to it. Why wouldn't anypony love pie as much as he did, it was the best invention in all of pony-history.
"Soarin sure does love his pie..." Spitfire, the last of the bunch, said to that with an amused smile. His obsessive love for pie can be pretty amusing and, she dare say, cute, sometimes. She often said that in times such as this, and every Wonderbolt and Soarin fan knew how true it is. It wasn't long before the five of them reach their destination, the Wonderbolt convention. When they enter, they get ambushed by thousands of screaming fans- most of them wearing Wonderbolt T-shirts; a huge majority of them in Wonderbolt customs; and a great amount of them even changed their mane styles to look like their favorite Wonderbolt, and quite a few of them (mostly the mares and fillies) are holding 'I 
the Wonderbolts!' signs, and some even for specfic members, but most of them are Soarin. As said before, he can be quite cute in many a mare and gay stallion's eyes, and I can personally agree.
There are pegasi of all ages, and there are even some earth ponies and unicorns who adore them as well, and even some chrystal ponies, griffins, and a very, very few amount of zebras and clydesdales, and only three yaks, which is why this has to take place in the grounds of Baltimare, not the skies; all in all, there were sentient beings of all kinds, all fans of the Wonderbolts. The moment they attempt to jump the Wonderbolts with fan-fueled energy, security guards shove them away with giant shields. An army of reporters and perpetuates appear, asking question after question. The guards takes a while to bring order in the chaos of the excited fans, and then they did, they all gather in a large grass area (and some of the ponies were prepared with panic cloths and fold-able chairs) where a stage was set for the Wonderbolts panel, ready to be interviewed.
"Welcome to the Wonderbolt Con. one-oh-five!" the host, a dark grey pegasus stallion with a black and dark, blueish-greenish stripped mane, with a black T-shirt of three Wonderbolts flying with a cloud of smoke behind them, loudly announces. In response to the host's words, everyone screams in applause, hooves and claws stomping in applause, in a clear expression of pure excitement. "Then let us give a warm welcome to our Wonderbolts, here!" he says, and again comes a series of cries of excitement. All the waiting in line and the large amount of bits paid is officially paying off, and nothing can make a wallet-scarred Wonderbolt lover anymore happy. "Let's give up for Fleefoot!" he yelled as Fleefoot approached the panel, of which earned a good amount of applause. "Rapid Fire!" he yelled again, only the applause wasn't as loud, but he still had his fair-share of fans. "Star Fry!" the audience roared with applause, all from the mouths of those who had been inspired by him showing that even a rookie can make it big. "Soarin!" the next applause was ear piercing, all high pitched and ever so obviously from the fan girls that kissed his autographed poster good night before bed. "Spitfire!" he cried again, and this time the applause was undoubtedly full, every single fan all yelled in excitement and love for the most popular of all.
With that done, the Wonderbolts were ready, and thus a thousand hooves were raised for questions. The first one who gets to speak is a grey earthpony stallion, who is wearing a black cap with Spitfire's cutie mark printed on it; a wing made of fire. His cutie mark is a book with a quill, and his talent seems more obvious of what it was specifically, because he holds a small note book attached to his saddle bag, with a pencil in his right front hoof as he holds it up to rise his hoof. Admiring the cap because it was her cutiemark, Spitfire was the one who picked him. "Ah… Spitfire…?" he asked rather nervously, his voice low and his muzzle extremely close to the mic. Every echo that follows makes him feel more and more scared, and what makes it worse is that Spitfire looks inpatient.
"Yes?" she asks with a voice that already shows boredom, not expecting anything interesting for him to ask. The earthpony swallows hard before he speaks.
"Um... first of, I-I'm a huge fan."
Spitfire rolls her eyes. "I'm not surprised. Kid, are you gonna ask a question, or not?" she down talks him. He's 36, but Spitfire doesn't care. The stallion is shacking, but stills himself once when he gathers all the courage he could muster.
"Well, I always wondered… how did you become Captain of the Wonderbolts?"
Spitfire raises an eye brow. The stallion is now sweating, waiting for her answer, and hopefully won't say anything like 'who cares? It's because I'm awesome, end of story; get lost, kid!' or maybe 'what makes me Captain? Well if I wasn't a Captain, then I won't be sitting here, disusing it with you, now would I?'. But instead, she lost her poker face, and grins. "Well, I'm glad you asked."
The crowed starts to cheer. The stallion breaths a sigh of relief, then says, "Good! Y-You see, I'm trying to write a book about you, and I need to, um, know your whole life story…"
She starts to think about throwing her dairy in his face, but she already burned it long ago, because dairies are for sissies who want to risk their secrets for somepony to stumble across. So she answered, "Alright, I'll tell ya my story. You look like just the right guy to novelize me." She gave him a wink. The stallion tried his best to resist the urge to fan-colt scream, and instead readies his pencil and note book, and gave her a nod for her to begin. She clears her throat, and begins her story.
