Metal shouldn’t itch. But it did.
It was all in her head, the doctors said. Phantom limb pain. It was typical among amputees. The body, missing the old sensations, clawed at memories to bring up what was “supposed” to be there. It came up with the last sensation in that wing, and that sensation was nigh-invariably pain. Even with her old wing replaced with this new arcanometallic thing, it was to be expected. Do your exercises and be thankful it works as well as it does.
But Rainbow Dash wasn’t sure about that. Actually, she was pretty sure about the opposite of that. It was one thing for a phantom wing to itch. It was another for the rivets on her metal wing to itch. Because she could definitely feel them: each and every rivet and gasket, each and every screw and hinge. She knew when it was open and when it was closed, not just by her thinking it, but by sensation alone, like it was an actual wing. She’d been woken up one night when Thunderlane was trying to doodle on it again. She could feel the marker that time; an earlier lack of sensation was why Thunderlane had taken up to drawing on it in the first place.
She’d brought this up with the designer of the wing and Celestia’s head mage (Midnight Sprinkle or something, Dash was never that great with names). Sprinkle had said that this was actually a good sign. It meant the wing’s magical field was beginning to merge with her own, and soon, Dash would be able to operate it just as well as her old wing. It’d be more flexible, more responsive, more useful. The itching was because the merge was incomplete and she wasn’t getting full sensations from it yet. Like sitting on one of your legs for an hour and getting pins and needles until the blood started flowing again. Once everything was set, the itching would be gone. She just needed to find who she really was, providing a more stable field for the wing to merge with.
At least, that was the gist of what Dash had pulled out of Sprinkle’s speech. That unicorn had an incredibly bad habit of never using one short word when she could use several long ones, so Dash wasn’t sure of it all.
And whether or not it was true, it didn’t stop her wing from itching.
The metal groaned slightly as Dash flexed it. She’d had it for almost a year, now, but she still didn’t like the feel of it. It was too rigid and didn’t flap well. Oh, sure, she could fly with it, but previously, she’d easily been the fastest flier in all of Equestria. Immediately after getting it, she’d been bumped down quite a bit. As she got used to it, she began to work out its kinks and foibles (it does well on long and straight flights, don’t try to bend it too fast, etc.), she began to climb up again, and was now back in the top ten, but she still wasn’t at the top. And she’d liked being at the top.
Dash frowned and flexed it again, listening carefully. The metal still groaned, but it was groaning less than it had… just last week, actually. She looked over her shoulder at it and flexed it one more time. It was bending a bit more than it had. It was weird; metal wasn’t supposed to bend like that. Right after she’d gotten it, the bending metal had looked like bending metal. Now, it looked more… rubbery, for lack of a better term. But when she tapped it, it was as hard as ever.
“Dash!” hissed Spitfire. “Focus!”
Oh, sure. “Focus”. The problem was that there was nothing to focus on. They’d been waiting on this thundercloud for almost half an hour, with the battle almost joined below; what was she supposed to focus on? Yes, scouts had said that there was a detachment of pegasi ready to flank the army below — the Wonderbolts up here to flank them — but they couldn’t do anything about it until Fleetfoot returned with news or they saw the flankers.
So Dash was bored, and her wing itched, and that meant her mind wandered toward her itch. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it.
But like a sign from heaven, Fleetfoot streaked in and slid to a stop on the thundercloud, panting heavily. “Coming,” she said in between breaths. “Just under ten minutes, max. Coming low, won’t see us. No more than forty.”
“Good,” said Spitfire. “Get back to camp, get some rest. Everyone else, to your stations.”
Dash’s station was a cloud on the opposite edge of the battlefield, fully soaked and fully charged. The Wonderbolts were outnumbered five-to-one (at worst), but they had a trick up their sleeves: the element of surprise and a crapton of lightning. Lightning storms weren’t particularly difficult to fly in, but going from a somewhat cloudy day to a thunderous downpour in seconds would startle even the most well-trained pegasus, and that’s when they’d strike.
Five minutes left. Dash kneaded the cloud beneath her, flexed her wings. If anything, this part was worse than before. She knew when the bad guys would show up, but all she could do was wait. And wait.
And wait.
Eventually, she saw them, streaking over the ground. They were miles away, but closing fast. Off in the distance, Spitfire threw up a flag. Every pegasus began hovering just over their clouds, ready for the signal.
The flankers reached the battlefield. Spitfire dropped the flag, and the pegasi hurtled down through the clouds.
The response was immediate. Thunder boomed, lightning crashed, and the rain came down in sheets. The flanking force was disrupted by the cacophony, and it only got worse as the pegasi plunged through them. They’d been fully prepared for the tide of battle to turn, but not for it to turn against them.
There was a russet mare off near the edge. Dash went after her, tackling her around the middle. They tumbled down for a moment before the russet managed to break free with a helmet-assisted headbutt and start climbing through the rain. Dash went after her, went past her. She wheeled around at the peak of her ascent and dove back towards the mare.
But then a bolt of lightning streaked down between them. Dash backflapped to avoid being hit by it, but it still blinded her, and the thunder was loud enough to make her forget which way was up. By the time her eyes cleared, the russet was already attacking again. Her hoof hit Dash right in the neck. Dash’s head snapped back and she fell.
But though she fell, she wasn’t too badly hurt. Falling, she’d learned a while ago, was a woefully underrated survival skill.
It’d been during the retaking of Vanhoover. Sombra had managed to capture enough unicorns to set up a halfway-decent anti-air battery. The problem was that the Wonderbolts had been expecting no anti-air battery, so they were forced to break formation almost as soon as they came out of the clouds.
They’d scattered quickly, but Cloudchaser had apparently been nicked by one of the bolts and tumbled limply. Flitter had tried to catch her but was driven back by the magic, and forced to watch as Cloudchaser fell down, down, down.
As the Wonderbolts did evasive maneuvers, Dash had tried to keep an eye on Cloudchaser. She fell right through the unicorns’ line of fire without a scratch on her. After all, she was already dead; why waste your magic any more on that?
But then Dash realized she didn’t have a scratch on her at all. Not even from the first shot.
Moments before she hit the ground, Cloudchaser stopped playing dead and was among the unicorns like a timber wolf among lambs. Albeit a considerably more benevolent one, considering this came right after Celestia’s decree of “save Sombra’s soldiers if it can be reasonably done”. Cloudchaser had focused more on smashing their helmets than smashing their heads, and every single unicorn was freed within minutes. Dash and the Wonderbolts landed with no more resistance, and now they had an unexpected group of unicorns ready to assist.
That had been a good day.
It was this good day Dash had in mind as she fell. Keep your body and your legs limp, she thought to herself. Keep them limp. That was always the hard part; instinct kept screaming to beat the air with your wings, to spread out your legs and slow your descent, to do anything to just stop falling. Falling from this height meant you would greet the ground at around 120 miles per hour. That wasn’t good.
Dash struggled to keep limp, but it was enough to fool the russet. She dove after Dash, closing the gap quickly, ready to capture her unconscious enemy and force her to join Sombra’s army.
With maybe a yard to spare, Dash flared and tilted her wings, spinning her out of the way. The russet streaked by her in surprise, and Dash quickly plunged down, trying to catch her.
Sombra’s method of expanding his army was one that was high-risk, high-reward. It was simple: stick enchanted helmets on your POWs to brainwash them into serving you. It gave him an unyielding army that followed his every command without question, one that expanded with every battle he won. It was how he’d managed to gain so much land so fast in the early stages of the war: it was easy to drive your troops as far as they could possibly go for weeks on end when you didn’t have to worry about morale, and none of Celestia's forces had thought of the consequences of surrendering.
But it also meant that once you got the helmets off his soldiers, they’d switch sides faster than you could blink. With every battle he lost, his army shrank, and not just due to deaths. There was an entire group of smiths dedicated to finding as many weak points in the helmets as they could, to break them easily. Sombra would fix those, naturally, with updated designs, but he could never hide all of them, “updates” would often introduce new weak spots, and he could only stick the new helmets on new soldiers, so the updates would take a while to really take effect in the field. And the smiths would just keep at it.
Dash recognized this design. This one was a bit tricky: a solid kick to the bridge of the nose. Too light, and you wouldn’t do anything. Too hard, and you’d hurt the pony wearing it, potentially killing them if you were far too enthusiastic in your kicks. But Dash had trained, and trained hard; she could do this one in her sleep.
Dash caught up to her opponent easily. As the russet pivoted to look up, Dash re-angled herself, pointing her rear hooves down. Half an instant before the impact, she flared her wings, slowing down enough to prevent any killings.
She hit, and there was that vibration. That sweet, sweet vibration. That vibration that only came on a perfect hit. It bounded and rebounded through the helmet’s metal, shaking it to pieces in less than a second. Anything less than perfection, and the helmet’s brainwashing have broken, but the helmet itself would’ve stayed intact enough to stay on the russet’s head. Not so here; the helmet shattered completely, and the russet was free.
Dash moved to catch her in case she was too surprised to fly, but she managed to pick herself up, touching her face as she hovered. “You-” she stammered. “H-how did-”
“Training,” said Dash. “Get above the storm and head south; you’ll find our camp there. Tell them Rainbow Dash sent you.”
The russet stared at Dash with something like awe, then saluted and zipped up. One down, at most thirty-nine to go.
Easier said than done. For all the good the storm had done them, it also reduced visibility to almost nothing and nearly blocked out the sun. Dash could only see the pegasi at any distance when lightning cracked and she could see their silhouettes, and even then, she couldn’t tell one side from the other.
But she worked through it. She spotted a green pegasus attempting to tail Soarin and made after them.
Time began to blur. Dash lost track of her actions. She freed most of her opponents, but every now and then, she’d meet one who was too good to let their helmet get touched. Dash simply broke their wings and let them fall. She hated every second of it.
The storm started clearing. Dash started running into other Wonderbolts more often than brainwashed pegasi, even when she scanned all the air around her. Below them, it seemed like much of the EUP was breaking, fleeing for camp. But when Dash had a second to take a closer look, all of the ponies running away seemed to be Crystal Ponies. And when she looked at Sombra’s forces, they were much smaller than before.
By the time there were only five pegasi in the air, Spitfire was waving a sodden green flag. Form up. The Wonderbolts quickly gathered around her. Dash did a quick head count: four Wonderbolts, plus Spitfire. But that meant only Wonderbolts were still flying. Had they really taken out all of the attackers?
“We’re clear,” said Spitfire. She had a gash down one cheek that was bleeding profusely, but she didn’t notice it. She looked over the assembled ponies. “Who’s missing? Anyone see what happened to them?”
“Blossomforth and Blaze both got wounded and supported each other back to camp,” said Soarin. “But I didn’t see what happened to Misty Fly.”
None of the other ponies had seen her, either. “Dammit. We’ll have to assume KIA,” muttered Spitfire. “All right, soldiers, let’s head back to-”
A blast of dark magic grazed her back, and her wings locked up as crystals began to sprout from her flesh. Flitter and Surprise quickly supported her, while Dash and Soarin snapped to the source of the bolt. A group of around a dozen pegasi, clad all in black, were flying towards them in an arrowhead formation. Their leader had a small arcane cannon on one shoulder, still smouldering from its shot. None of them wore helmets.
Somehow, there were ponies who genuinely supported Sombra. It was anyone’s guess as to why. But these ponies generally fought better than Sombra’s main troops, if only because they had actual training rather than simply being brainwashed to fight. They were the elite (relatively speaking) and were frequently his generals and commanders. This particular group called themselves the Night Fliers.
Compared to the Wonderbolts, the Night Fliers weren’t anything special. The Wonderbolts were the best of the best, while the Night Flies didn’t train anywhere near as vigorously. But they were rested, and the Wonderbolts weren’t. Cowards.
“Get her to camp!” Dash yelled. “Soarin and I will hold them off!” She knew Soarin wouldn’t question it, even though he outranked her; if she hadn’t said it first, he would’ve said that he and Dash would hold them off.
As Flitter and Surprise carried Spitfire to help, Dash and Soarin flew towards the Night Fliers. Dash was faster, and Soarin slipstreamed behind her. The Night Fliers tightened their formation as the cannon warmed up again.
“Immelmare overshoot!” yelled Soarin behind her. “You go up, I’ll go down!”
“Sounds good!”
The mare at the tip of the arrowhead smirked before firing the cannon again. Talk about telegraphing your attacks. Dash and Soarin dodged it easily and reached the front of the formation. But right before they hit, they changed course. Dash tilted just above the Fliers, Soarin went down, and they both blew past the Fliers.
Dash barrel-rolled, flying upside down, and pulled “up”, reversing her course. Her wing groaned; it wasn’t suited for these kinds of maneuvers. But Dash had learned to compensate, and she exited the turn easily. Beside her, Soarin did the same thing in reverse, pulling up and then barrel-rolling to rightside up flight.
The two of them barreled into the Fliers like freight trains before they could recover. No worries about saving anypony here; the Fliers had made their decision. The very first mare she encountered, Dash slammed into her hard enough to break her back instantly. Soarin went for the wings.
By the time the Fliers could retaliate, three of them were already down. One of them tried to come at Dash from below and drag her down, but while she was clinging to Dash, she couldn’t block anything Dash did to her. Dash planted a hoof on either side of her head and twisted hard enough to snap her neck.
As she beat off her attackers, Soarin went after those who tried to pursue Spitfire. He bounded from one Flier to another, driving them back to the pack. He didn’t try to kill them, just herd them.
But in the middle of the melee, Dash noticed the leader drawing a bead on Soarin with her cannon. It was almost charged up again, glowing black and purple, humming deeply. “Soarin!” she yelled. “Behind you!”
Soarin didn’t need another word. He ducked and pulled in his wings.
The cannon fired.
It was a perfect hit, nailing Soarin right in the flank. He screamed as black crystals tore through his skin. Then they spread up the rest of his body and he stopped screaming. He fell.
Dash lost it. She struck out in all directions with every single one of her hooves and even her wings. One particularly unlucky Flier managed to get smashed on the head with her metal wing, opening up a deep cut.
The second Dash was free, she torpedoed into the leader. She hit one of her joints with a hoof, and several bones cracked. They both fell.
The Flier panicked, trying to regain control with her remaining wing. Dash pulled herself to the leader’s shoulder and ripped the cannon from her uniform. It felt wrong, cold and clammy and thorny. Dark magic. But Dash barely noticed it as she turned it towards the Flier’s face.
Her eyes went wide and she put up her hooves.
“Smile,” hissed Dash, and bit down on the trigger.
She pushed away from the Flier’s newly-crystallized body and flew back up towards the rest of the Fliers. She wouldn’t surrender; she wouldn’t become one of Sombra’s lackeys. Better to go down fighting.
But the Fliers were having none of that, and they also had superior numbers. There were six of them left, and each one grabbed onto her in some way. One bit down on her tail, another on her mane, several more took hold of her legs, and the last one pulled at her natural wing.
She knew it was useless, but she tried to break free with all her might, even as the Fliers began arguing what to do with her.
“Just kill her. Kill her now.”
“Are you crazy? We’ve captured the Rainbow Dash! Imagine what we’ll get for her!”
“She killed Maelstrom. Rip her to shreds!”
“We can’t let somepony this valuable just slip by us!”
Eventually, they managed to settle on taking her back to their camp. One of them drew, from the folds of her armor, a long stick with little lightning bolts dancing on the end. She touched the tip to Dash; volts of electricity coursed through her body, her metal wing only making it worse, and she went limp.
The Fliers carried her away. Every time Dash tried to move, she’d get shocked again. She tried staying limp for longer than usual to make them think she’d given up, but once she tried to escape, she was just shocked again, and that earned her additional, periodic shocks to keep her from getting any more bright ideas. She could’ve sworn her wing was heating up from so many shocks.
Through her delirium, Dash noticed that they weren’t going to the camp she thought they were. They were going towards a mountain range nearby. Why? Their scouts earlier hadn’t seen anything in there. True, they might’ve missed something, but not something like the Fliers were talking about.
They pulled over a mountain and into a long valley, several miles long at the very least. It could’ve been a good place for a base camp, except that the valley was clearly empty.
Until they were within twenty feet of the ground.
At about twenty feet, massive black crystals appeared out of nowhere. Seen from below, they were projecting a hazy illusion above the valley floor, hiding it from spies and scouts. In their shadows lay an army. It was a small army, and didn’t come close to filling the valley, but it was a good size. Between half and three-quarters the size of Equestria’s forces outside the range.
Only Equestria didn’t know they were there. If this force mobilized and attacked, it’d be like they came out of nowhere. The army would be wiped out before it could blink.
This had been a setup. The whole thing. It had seemed too good to be true; well, it was. Why had so many Crystal Ponies been freed so easily? Because Sombra would get them back, and then some, the very next day. The amount of magic over the valley must’ve been enormous, and it wasn’t that big of a stretch to think that Sombra himself was assisting in some way, probably via the crystals.
Escape. Dash had to. But how?
She was manacled and dumped in a line with other prisoners, row upon row of them. Dash didn’t need to look around to know that there were cartloads of helmets somewhere, just waiting to go on their heads.
There were guards everywhere, at least two bordering each prisoner. Brainwashed ones; Sombra wouldn’t relegate those who willingly joined him to something as low as guard duty. Dash tried to talk to one of the other prisoners and was given a swift buck in the ribs. She tried again and was given two swift bucks in the ribs. So much for that.
The prisoners were marched onto a sort of improvised parade ground, a raised platform at the front. An unhelmeted Crystal Pony stood on the platform, grinning down at them. From her uniform, probably some kind of commander.
“Congratulations!” she said. “You get to join your friends in our conquest tomorrow!” She laughed. “Thought this valley was empty? So do they. A little gift from our dear King. Tomorrow is the beginning of the end for Equestria!”
Dash took a deep breath, tried to speak up, but the guards noticed and pounded her down. Nor was she only one; such altercations were breaking out all over the place. But there were too many guards, and they were quickly suppressed.
“Welcome, friends,” the commander said. “Welcome to the Crystal Empire!”
The first row of prisoners was marched forward, and a cart of helmets was wheeled out. Dash didn’t recognize the design; they must’ve been new. For all she knew, probably deployed for this specific battle.
The helmets were put on the prisoners one by one. Dash watched with a trainwreck fascination. It was quick, efficient; the helmet was forced onto the prisoner’s head, the commander personally inspected it, then they moved on to the next one. When they reached the end of the row, the brainwashed prisoners wordlessly turned and marched to the back. A new cart was brought out, and the process began again.
Every few seconds, Dash would look around, trying to find some way out. Were the chains loose? No, and if she tried them, she got kicked. Could she fly away? No, she was chained up, and whenever she opened her wings, she got kicked. Could she swipe a key? No, none of the guards near her appeared to have a key. Did the guards ever shift their attention? No, they were always focused on her.
She had nothing.
And then it was time for her row.
Everypony behaved differently as they were helmeted. Some would try to fight it off. Some would sob. Some would just glare at the commander. But when they had the helmets on, they were all the same: rigid, silent automatons.
Dash was one of the fighters. She pulled at her chains, wrenching them this way and that as the ponies tried to fit her with a helmet. She threw her head forwards, backwards, left, right, every way she could.
Two ponies pinned her neck from opposite sides. Dash couldn’t move her head, no matter how much she tried. The commander frowned at her. “You’re a feisty one,” she said. “I think you’ll make a great soldier.”
Dash screamed in rage at the commander as the metal went over her head.
Her body was gone, and the world was cold and dark.
GiVe In. YoU cAnNoT rEsIsT mE.
Sombra’s voice reverberated through Dash’s skull. She could feel it ripping at her mind, tearing at her memories, eating at her motivations. Dash fought it, trying to lay up the mental brick walls she’d heard about. Some of Sombra’s former soldiers had said you could resist, as long you focused on what made you you. It was only for a time, but it was something. She would not go gentle.
wHy Do YoU fIgHt? It Is No UsE. yOu WiLl FaLl.
But gentle or not, it was no good. Sombra’s will flooded her consciousness. Every effort she put up was beaten down easily.
It Is HoPeLeSs FoR yOu. HoPeLeSs.
The world turned over and Dash fell. She fell into an infinite sea, full of crashing waves, whirlpools, and riptides. Every time something hit her, she’d hear Sombra’s voice again, louder and louder. Sombra’s will threatened to swamp her.
DiD yOu ReAlLy ThInK yOu WoUlD eScApE mY gRaSp?
She struggled, trying to stay above the waves. But for every inch she got, the waves got a foot higher. She tired and began to slip back down, Sombra’s voice growing more and more pervasive. Soon only a single hoof remained above the water.
YoU aRe MiNe.
Then the waves froze.
Wait. Are you really gonna just let him WIN like that? Come on, silly, that’s not the Rainbow Dash I know! You don’t give up that easily!
It wasn’t exactly a voice, but that was the best way Dash could put it. Something had punched its way out of the dark corners of her brain and decided to make itself heard, stilling the waters and pulling Dash’s head above them. It was very insistent. It didn’t sound like her, though. It sounded like one of the Rock Corps. Pinkamena. Hard as diamond and cold as ice on the battlefield, but once you gave her half a reason in between battles, she’d be stupidly upbeat.
She’d visit the wounded in the field hospitals, telling jokes that she never seemed to run out of to keep their spirits up. That was where they’d first met, when Dash was still recovering from her amputation and the attachment of her metal wing. (“Now I can say I know a pegasus with a metal wing named Dash! And then they’ll ask me, ‘What’s the name of her other wing?’”) She was a remarkably good baker, particularly when it came to sweet stuff cupcakes and pies, which made everypony happier. And then there was that time she repurposed a cannon for Captain Armor’s birthday to somehow shoot parties. Actual, entire parties. It’d lay out the cake and the punch and the streamers and everything without messing anything up. Dash had given up on trying to figure that out a while back.
You made a promise to me, you know. You said you’d still be okie-dokie when it came time for Hearth’s Warming. You said you wouldn’t, AND I QUOTE, ‘go out like a gelding’.
Several months ago, Pinkamena and another one of the Rock Corps had saved Dash’s life, pulverising a boulder about to crush her during a particularly stupid moment of zero spatial awareness. After the battle, Dash had caught up with them to thank them. Pinkamena had just laughed it off, saying it was no big deal. “But don’t you go dying on me and making it all worthless!”
It was obviously a joke, but Dash decided to take it seriously. She promised Pinkamena that, at the very least, she’d still be alive and well when Hearth’s Warming came around. Maybe they’d be able to celebrate together. Almost definitely not, but you never knew. Pinkamena had looked at her with an unnatural (for her) seriousness, then given her an oath to swear — but only if she was positively absolutely surely surely sure about it. Dash was, and she’d sworn it.
You always keep your promises — you’re like the QUEEN of promise-keeping — and this wasn’t a normal promise. This was a Pinkie Promise. They’re kind of a big dealio.
Why were those promises so valuable, compared to all the others? Pinkamena had been ultra-serious about this one, but hadn’t explained why. It wouldn’t change Dash’s trying to keep it, but it was a bit glaring. She should’ve asked Pinkamena about it.
And why are you calling me Pinkamena? Sheesh, you’re too uptight even in your own head. I told you like a bazillion times to call me Pinkie. We’re not just sisters in arms, we’re friends!
Yeah, that was definitely Pinkamena. But why was her mind calling her out using Pinkamena’s voice?
I dunno. Probably because I’m the most recent one you made a promise to, and promises are important to you. If this’d happened right after you took the oath of enlistment, you’d probably hear this in Celestia’s voice because you’d just sworn to her to protect Equestria. These are YOUR reasons for staying sane, you know. You don’t want to betray me, her, and everyone else you’ve fought with.
Celestia.
It’d been because of her that Dash had joined the Wonderbolts. She’d been on the fence before, but then she’d heard about the defense of Seaddle. About how Celestia had been on the front lines all day for each of the four days of battle. Sombra controlled his forces through magic and fear, but that? That was the kind of leader you wanted to follow. One who led rather dictated. Dash had signed up immediately, and when she promised that she’d protect Equestria with all her might, that she’d stay loyal to everything Equestria stood for, she meant it from the bottom of her heart.
She couldn’t let Celestia down.
What about me?
Or Pinkamena.
Pinkie!
Whatever.
WhY dO yOu PeRsIsT?
But Sombra’s voice was still there, battering against Pinkamena’s. And then she was gone.
Actually, I ducked.
…Okay, it was great that whatever force Pinkamena represented was still around, but how could voices in your head duck other voices in your head?
It’s metaphorical, Dashie. He’s real strong, don’t try to stop him. Just evade him! As much as he’d like you to think otherwise, he can’t be everywhere at once. If he could, he wouldn’t need the helmets in the first place. Don’t try to block what he’s attacking, but build up what he’s not, and if you keep enough of yourself in one piece, you’ll always find your way back to the you that really is you and not the you that’s pretending to be you.
Dash tried it, abandoning her rigid defenses in favor of more flexible ones. When Sombra went after her motivations, she shored up her memories. When her motivations were gone and Sombra was going after her memories, she thought, Why did I do that? Oh, right. and her motivations were back. She hopscotched around her mind, strengthening the important parts when they weren’t being attacked.
UsElEsS. fUtIlE. yOu CaN’t HoPe To OuTlAsT mE.
But that was a lie. It was working. She was running in circles, but it was working. Whenever Sombra abandoned something he’d captured, she’d take it back. It was tiring, constantly moving around all the time, but Dash didn’t let up. She couldn’t. She had promises to keep, and Sombra was not going to stop her.
As she kept this up, Sombra’s voice began to sound worn out, like he was screaming himself hoarse. Maybe the magic of the helmets was wearing out. Maybe it was strongest right at the start and she’d just managed to last out the worst of it. But whatever it was, Dash began to feel her body again, especially her itchy wing. She needed to draw it out further, keep Sombra from taking over her body.
She settled on a trick she’d been taught by one of the nurses right before her amputation. Start doing something simple, then focus all your attention on that thing. It’d take your mind off of everything else.
Count to four.
Inhale.
LiStEn To Me!
Count to four.
Exhale.
YoU mUsT nOt ReSiSt!
1. 2. 3. 4.
Breathe in.
I wIlL nOt Be IgNoReD!
1. 2. 3. 4.
Breathe out.
nO! sToP!
She was back in reality, the rigid metal encasing her head.
Sombra’s voice changed. Not in content, but in tone. It dwindled. Roars became distant hollers. Spears became light pokes. An authoritative stallion became a whiny, attention-seeking colt. With all of Dash’s attention focused on driving it out and breathing, it had nothing to grab a hold of.
It didn’t go away, not completely. But Dash could ignore it. Just keep counting and keep breathing. Counting and breathing. Counting and breathing.
The Pinkamena in her head seemed smug. You’re gonna keep counting, and you’re gonna keep breathing, and you’re gonna keep King Sombrero out of your head, and you’re gonna KEEP YOUR PINKIE PROMISE.
It wasn’t a command. It was a reassurance.
Dash wouldn’t let her imaginary friend down. She counted and breathed.
“Commander?” someone said. “I think there’s something wrong with this one.”
Through the eye slits, Dash saw the commander lean in a bit. “How so?”
“I don’t know, she doesn’t… feel right.”
“Hmm. Maybe the helmet’s defective. Stupid new designs.” The commander lightly whacked Dash on the head, then muttered, “In his shadows we live.”
AnD iN hIs ShAdOwS wE dIe.
Dash considered ignoring it, but at the last second, realized it was the second half of the phrase the commander was looking for. Some kind of test key, to be sure everything was working properly. She snapped to attention and responded, “And in his shadows we die.” She said it dull, flat, like it had been forced out of her.
The commander grinned and turned to someone Dash couldn’t see. She wanted to turn and look, but the Sombra-voice wanted her to keep looking forward. Not wanting to break her charade, she kept looking forward.
“False alarm,” the commander said. “Next!”
The process continued. Dash was marched forward, unmanacled, and ignored. She wanted to look around, to see what was going on, but she couldn’t be the exception to the rule. As new ponies were brainwashed, she was shuffled around into a rigid formation. All the while, Sombra screamed at her, demanding she pay attention to him. But Dash counted and breathed and paid no attention to him. She couldn’t break her vows, whether they were made to one of the leaders of the free world or a member of the Rock Corps.
Finally, the line of prisoners was empty. Dash chanced a look around; the army hadn’t grown too much, but still substantially, and all the new soldiers were wearing that new helmet that might cause trouble for Equestrian forces.
And this army would be marching out without warning tomorrow. Dash had to escape, to warn them. She was about to just take off, damn the consequences, when-
“Begin distributing weapons.”
Maybe she could do some damage here, after all. It wouldn’t do anything against the helmets — she didn’t know their weak points — but against ponies…
The brainwashed soldiers fell into line, Dash among them. There were pikes. Lots and lots of pikes. Dash hadn’t had a lot of weapons training (they were unwieldy in flight), but she had some. She could stab and she could block.
Rank upon rank gathered pikes, but to Dash, it felt interminably slow. She swore she could trace the sun’s path across the sky. But gradually, she crept closer to the array of pikes. When she finally reached it, she was given one without a word. She walked away with it over her back, its handles clinking against her sides.
DoN’t YoU dArE.
Easy for Sombra to say. Dash had to do this. Her mind wouldn’t let her rest if she didn’t.
Getting a good chance, however, was something else. When she fell back into line, she was two rows from the edge of her formation, and the commander always seemed to be some distance away.
But finally, the chance came. Another helmetless pony arrived, apparently to take stock of the arrayed forces. She was a unicorn, and looked a lot like Sombra. She definitely wasn’t Sombra (the wrong gender was simply the tip of the iceberg), but she still bore the telltale signs of dark magic corruption. The fangs, the overly-pointy horn, the sanguine eyes. Sombra didn’t teach dark magic to anyone who’d join; this one must be high up. Maybe even a general.
This would be good.
The commander and the general walked down the empty row closest to Dash. They’d pass by barely ten feet from her. They were alone, without even any bodyguards. It was all she could to do keep bouncing on her hooves in excitement and impatience. In the cookie-cutter formation, she’d stand out immediately.
lEaVe ThEm Be. LeAvE tHeM bE.
No, Dash said to herself, I don’t think I want to.
As they walked, the conversation they were having became audible. “-othing to worry about,” said the commander. “We’ve never had the compulsion fail before, and it’s not going to today.”
That was as good a setup as any.
Dash jumped into the air, her front hooves wedged into the pike’s handles. The commander and the general turned to face her, confused. Dash held the pike aloft. “For Celestia!” Her voice was distorted by the helmet, but the message got through.
She plunged at them. They were frozen, stunned. This sort of thing just didn’t happen. Maybe they would’ve had enough time to set up a defense if they hadn’t been so surprised. But they didn’t, and Dash couldn’t have had a better target.
She drove the pike straight through the back of the general, her weight pushing it out her belly on the other side and driving the general to the dirt. A little bit of work pulled it back out, glistening with blood, and Dash brought it down one, two, three more times, just to be sure.
Red droplets flew through the air as Dash whirled to face the commander. She was horrified and slowly backing away from the brainwashed soldier who had suddenly snapped. “How did… How did…” she stammered.
“Trade secret,” said Dash. She leapt forward and brought the pike up. It pierced the commander’s throat, hitting with enough force to push her up on her hind legs. Then gravity took over and she crashed back to the ground.
Behind the helmet, Dash grinned. Her work here was done. She extracted her hooves from the handles and took flight. Some of the soldiers around her tried to respond, but without any specific orders, they were too slow and clumsy to catch her, even the pegasi.
Down below her, someone yelled. “Seal the valley! Seal the valley!”
That couldn’t be good. Dash jinked to the nearest pass, but ran headlong into a rapidly-growing shield of magic that covered the exit. She looked up to see the iridescent dome moving across the entire valley towards the other end. She saw her exit there: right between two peaks, there was a low pass where the last rays of the setting sun were poking through.
It was a considerable distance away. But she could make it. She had to.
When in the Wonderbolts, flying flat-out was discouraged, as it was unnecessarily tiring. The only ones allowed to were scouts. Dash had been a scout before she lost her wing, one of the best. She could run rings around the other scouts. She liked to go fast. But after she lost her wing, she couldn’t do that anymore. She’d been stripped from scout duty, and that was before her wing limited her speed. When she tried to go too fast in battle, she’d almost always be pulled aside and reprimanded in some way when all was said and done. She’d tried to argue her case, but her commanding officers were generally far too rigid and strict. She missed simply being able to go as fast as she could, with no one limiting her.
Well, now she could.
Dash beat her wings. The shield had a head start on her, already covering over half the valley, but Dash flew faster and faster, and soon she’d outstripped the shield’s pace. She could do this.
The metal wing groaned slightly. But Dash ignored it. She pushed herself. She sped up even more. She reached the edge of the shield, went beyond it. “Come on,” she hissed, “is that all you got?”
The world began to blur from her velocity, and her blood felt like it had been replaced with adrenaline. She kept pushing, willing herself to go faster. She worked her wings like she’d never worked them before, natural and artificial both. She was going to keep her promises. She’d gotten this far, and she was not going to be stopped by something as silly as a shield going up.
Something snapped.
Not within Dash; she’d never felt more alive. The something was outside, in the air. No, not in the air; it was the air that was snapping. Raw speed was breaking the air before her, shattering it. Where once there’d been a wall, Dash was now pushing through it like there was nothing.
Air wasn’t meant to break like that. Bonds were broken, and energy was released. Color across the whole spectrum bloomed around her, blasting out in a planar wave, leaving a rainbow in her wake. The natural magic was too much for the helmet; it overloaded and shattered, and Sombra’s voice vanished into the ether. Her mind was completely her own again. With no metal to stop it, the wind slammed into Dash’s face. It felt like stepping from a snowdrift into a warm shower.
This was what she was meant to do: fly fast. And Dash flew fast.
She escaped the shield seconds before it closed completely. But in those seconds, she traveled almost a mile. Dash glanced over her shoulder at the rapidly receding valley, her rainbow tracing to its exact location, and laughed from pure joy. She wasn’t just happy, she was giddy. This was the best she’d felt in a long time. She’d escaped Sombra’s clutches, was currently flying faster than any pony in history, and was about to prevent a devastating ambush.
Dash flew. From the position of the camp, it’d ordinarily take about seven minutes to get there, flying at her normal rate. At this speed, she wouldn't even need one. She relished the moment, knowing it’d be ages before she could feel it again. She made “fly like the wind” look downright pathetic. She sliced through the sky so easily that hot knives and butter had nothing on her. She was displaying her feat with a magnificent display for all the world to see.
And best of all, her wing didn’t itch anymore.
