Blackness and pain. That's all Soarin felt, was pain. His eyes were clenched too tight to see any light, his teeth gritted too hard for his mouth to voice his agony. Sweat poured down his body as he viciously fought to contain the energy that struggled to break free of him, constricting his chest and cutting off his air. The pale blue Pegasus focused all his strength and will to keep this mysterious power inside. It was some malignant spirit, trying to claw open his chest with shadowy nails, each second growing stronger and stronger. Now, in an injured state and only half-conscious, Soarin forced everything he had into healing the wounds of the demon's talons.
Soarin was a strong pony, the "Power Flyer" of the leading Wonderbolts squad. Few ponies could claim to harness his strength, inside and out. But even a pony as strong as Soarin could not hold back a dark magic that seemed to be more powerful than Sombra or even Discord. He could feel himself getting slashed open from the inside, the agony expanding like a physical object that threatened to break out of his skin. It grew larger and more painful with each second—bigger and bigger and bigger. As Soarin's gasps for air grew all the more futile, he knew that no matter how hard he tried, the magic would beat him this time. He curled on the cold floor, waiting for his demise.
And then, just like that, it faded away.
Soarin's eyelids inched their ways open, ever so slowly letting light pour into his dilated pupils. The pain was gone, the choking was gone—just like that. The only reminder of the pale blue pony's struggle ever taking place to begin with was the puddle of salty sweat that he lay in.
Choking and wheezing, Soarin rose to his feet on violently shaking legs. Relief flooded over him, replacing his angry despair from just moments ago. The spirit inside him had relented—for now.
Until then, Soarin needed to find his bearings.
Shaking his head out, Soarin took a long look around him. Right in front of him, blinding sunlight washed through the dark, damp cavern he realized he was in. Just behind him was a collapsed wall of earth and stone, blocking any entrance to and from the rocky tunnels within. The steady dripping of water resonated in what little of the cave wasn't filed with sediment.
Suddenly, it all came rushing back to Soarin: The fight with enemy Shadowbolts, the crash into the mountain, waking up injured and damaged, the avalanche, having to work with Rapidfire to find his way out...
Rapidfire. That pathetic waste of atoms. As was to be expected, he left Soarin to die in the avalanche. He should have known such a self-centered and uncaring pony would have betrayed him after he had essentially saved his life. It was no big surprise, but Soarin still found himself overcome with anger. After all Rapidfire had done—from the little things to being insensitive and hedonistic to potentially seriously wounding Soarin all the way to kidnapping Spitfire's coltfriend Wave Chill and sleeping with her, the Power Flyer had still decided the two of them needed to work together. Without Soarin, Rapidfire's crippling injuries would have meant he would have died in the cave. And still, the little bastard left him to die.
Soarin's head pounded and his blood flowed like liquid fire. Had any of the nearby rocks been small enough to throw, he probably would have done so, probably with enough force to break it upon impact with the wall. He told himself he shouldn't be surprised that Rapidfire abandoned him, but even so he was still left completely speechless. What a fucking partner you are, Rappy! his thoughts screamed as he furiously stamped his hoof and snorted.
Oh, well, it's what I've come to expect out of him anyways, he thought, scoffing. Now it's just best to get myself out of this cave and down this mountain. Soarin stiffly turned and stormed to the cave entrance. Outside greeted him with sharp, whipping wind that that painfully blasted shards of ice into his face. Only then did Soarin realize just how high up he was on the mountain. The tip of the snowcapped peak loomed a mere thirty feet above him, and had it not been for the winds, the Wonderbolt could have flapped up there with ease.
Putting a hoof to his eyes, trying to keep out the wind and ice, he peered into the snowy flurry that lay in front of him. As it turned out, the cave exit led him to a steep escarpment that sloped almost straight down to Earth—which was a long way down. At least four hundred feet of altitude stood between Soarin and safe ground. In most circumstances, Soarin would have no fears. He was a trained Wonderbolt and one of ponykind's strongest fliers. Unfortunately, there were two major issues. The first was that he was badly injured and stuck in severe weather with violent winds, and both of these factors could lead to him spiraling out of control and to his death.
The second factor was the Pegasus staring out over the land.
The pony's fur was somewhere between pasty yellow and dark orange, while his mane and tail showed off deep hues of flashing red. The pony's fur was short, his mane gently teased and spiked. His figure was slim yet strong, evidence of years of intense exercise.
Rapidfire.
Soarin's fury, which he had tried his hardest to quell in order to get his head straight, coalesced back into a pot of boiling oil and threatened to spill over. Had it not been for Soarin's shred of rationality taking one last stance, the stallion would have sprinted at top speed into Rapidfire, sending them both careening over the edge to their doom. But despite his vicious anger—despite his burning heart, his tense muscles, his gritted teeth—something way in the back of Soarin's mind screamed for him to be reasonable. If he kamikaze-d Rapidfire, the dark magic held within him would release, causing scores upon scores of destruction and tragedy, and for what? Because one pony had been deplorable? No, justice could wait.
So Soarin stalked through the three inches of snow to where Rapidfire sat. As he grew slowly closer and closer, he noticed Rapidfire was looking down at the ground below. "Nature get in your way from leaving me dead?" he snarled.
Rapidfire's ears flicked; he had heard Soarin. But aside from that, nothing. He did not turn. He did not tense. Nothing.
In seconds, Soarin was at his side, glaring red hot spears into his averted eyes. "I can't believe you," he spat into Rapidfire's face. "After all the shit you've done, you deserve to rot in that cave, but I still helped you get your crippled ass out of there." Soarin pinned his ears back, thrusting his face into Rapidfire's. "And this is how repay me? Leaving me to fucking die? I took a chance and tricked myself into thinking even you couldn't stoop that low, but you did. Look how much it backfired on you, huh? Tell me, Rapidfire: What made you think you could get away from anything you've done? You obviously thought you could get away from me, so tell me why. I can wait. We've got all the time in the world right now."
Soarin tersely waited for a response. It seemed as if Rapidfire hadn't acknowledged anything he said. For the longest time, he didn't move, simply staring out over the ledge and to the earth. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Rapidfire slowly turned to face Soarin, staring him down with an angry glare.
"Shut the fuck up," he growled.
"Make me!" Soarin shouted in response.
Rapidfire spun to face him, suddenly energized. "Alright, I will!" he screamed right back. "The truth is, you're still fucking alive because of me! I didn't leave you to die; I dug you out. With a wounded limb, I spent damn near the entire time you were unconscious saving your life! I nearly sprained my injured arm, and I've been sitting out here in the cold for twenty minutes!" Rapidfire's wild eyes and bared teeth gave him more than an angry appearance. It gave him a feral appearance. "So shut the fuck up about how I 'betrayed' you, because if it weren't for me, you'd be fucking dead!"
And that was all he had to say. Rapidfire's livid screaming gave way to labored breathing as he stood with braced muscles, glaring death at the blue Pegasus in front of him.
Soarin blinked. "What?" he asked. "You... dug me out of there?"
"Yes I fucking did. Don't believe me? Go back in and look at the trail of blood between your resting place and the rock wall. That's your blood, fuckass. You smeared it everywhere while I was dragging your body a safe distance from the rocks."
Soarin pulled himself away from Rapidfire. Some of his burning anger gave way to shock. Rapidfire had dug him out of there and saved his life? Another portion of his lividness turned into disbelief. How had he dug him out of a cave collapse with a wounded limb?
"That's your blood" was what Rapidfire had said. Suspicious, Soarin walked back through the snow into the cave and peered at the floor. Sure enough, a path of crimson smeared from the rocks to where Soarin had woke up. Much of it had been diluted by Soarin's sweat, but it was there. It was evident Soarin had been dragged most unceremoniously from the rubble to safety, even if safety was a mere few feet away. And with nopony else around for miles, who else could have done it but Rapidfire?
Shock pulsed through Soarin's mind as he struggled to process everything. All the rage and fury he had felt in the incredibly short time since he had beaten the dark magic was all on false accusations. Soarin really could have died if Rapidfire had not dragged him out of there. Rapidfire actually helping others was a foreign notion to Soarin, and he had to think the thought over twice and three times before he believed it.
Turning back around, he made his way back to the edge, where Rapidfire had yet to move from. "Can't say I'm not surprised," Soarin growled to Rapidfire. Then a sudden question popped into his mind. "I have to ask: Why did you save me?"
Rapidfire didn't look at him, and it was a while before he answered. "When I got free of the collapse, I was about to leave when I noticed you were buried under tons and tons of rock, bleeding from damn near everywhere," he began. "I wanted to abandon you. I hated you, and you hated me. But before I left, something else in me... told me it wasn't the best thing to do. I guess I just decided to be righteous for once. That's it."
Soarin nodded.
Rapidfire's ears flattened. "I don't see why I did it," he growled. "You're probably just going to take me down while I'm hurt and turn me in to the Wonderbolts anyway."
Again, Soarin nodded.
Rapidfire laughed a dry, mirthless laugh. "We'll have to get down this mountain first," he replied.
Soarin looked down the slope. That was hopelessly true. The ground was at least a hundred yards away, and with his injuries and brutal, whipping winds, it seemed impossible. But a small spark of realization in Soarin quickly grew into a roaring blaze of confidence. If there was anything the malicious magic within Soarin was good for, it was keeping him awake and strong. And right now, he could tell it was doing just that. Despite the fact that he hurt literally everywhere, he did not feel tired. He did not feel worn out. He did not feel beaten. He felt healthy.
It did not take long for Soarin to formulate a plan. Slowly, quietly, he turned to face Rapidfire, softly murmuring the pony's name. Rapidfire turned in response, gazing at him expectantly. With unfitting gentleness, Soarin laid a hoof on Rapidfire's shoulder. Rapidfire paid no heed. "I need to tell you something," he whispered.
The orange Pegasus's eyebrow rose. "What is it?"
Soarin grinned from ear to ear. "Good night."
Before Rapidfire could react, the hoof on his shoulder wrapped around his neck, tightening his blood vessels in a well-practiced stranglehold. It took mere seconds before brain hypoxia shut down Rapidfire's system. Soarin gently laid the unconscious body in the snow, then lifted him around and repositioned him over his shoulder. Finally, he roughly fit the pony onto his back and spread his wings.
"Come on, Rapper," he chuckled, "We got to get home."
It took a while for the spots to recede from Rapidfire's vision. As he slowly came to, he realized that he was no longer on a snowy mountain. Rather, he was surrounded by quiet green plains. The sun was shining, the air was warm, and all was quiet. The only thing Rapidfire's bleary mind could put out of place was the blue thing carrying him. As soon as he realized what it was, he was flung from it, and an all-too-familiar force wrapped itself around his neck.
The spots flooded Rapidfire's eyes once more. Right before he plunged back into a sickening unconsciousness, an infuriating voice spoke from somewhere.
"Sorry, but I can't have you acting up right now."
Soarin grunted. It had been three hours, and despite numerous rests, Rapidfire was getting heavy. A flicker of uncertainty sparked in Soarin when he truly contemplated how much longer he could carry the pony. On the flip-side, they were close to the compound. He could feel it. In maybe an hour, he would be back home. The liquid glow of hope and certainty filled Soarin's body, compelling him to push forward. Once he was back, he could rest, he could eat—and Rapidfire would be served justice.
Soarin smiled. Yes, there was certainly something to look forward to.
Thirty minutes in, and Soarin's tired eyes caught wind of three lone ponies. They had their backs turned to him, and were too far away to hear him. And though he was tired and needed to put effort into thinking straight, Soarin made out one major detail of the trio: All three of them were blue. A very light blue. The same color as the Wonderbolts uniforms!
A tidal wave of excitement and anticipation caused Soarin to let Rapidfire slip from his back as he flew at his top speed to the three ponies. As he grew closer and closer, his hope grew more and more as he made out other important details: Small yellow lines patterned on specific areas of the blue, ears different colors than the body, and so forth. Once Soarin was close enough, they could hear him coming, and the three of them turned to face him. And Soarin recognized their faces.
Fleetfoot. Air Mach. Spitfire. His squadmates.
"Guys!" Soarin shouted, screeching to a halt right in front of them. "It's you!"
Air Mach struck an immediate salute. "Commander Soarin! It brings the great Animak much pleasure knowing that our most stallionly Power Flyer has returned to us!" he announced dramatically. "And with some pretty badass new looks, too!"
Spitfire and Fleetfoot were not as silly about the whole thing. "Soarin?" Spitfire cried, her eyes wide. "Holy shit! You're back!"
Fleetfoot hoof pumped. "Of course he's back!" she shouted. "Do you honestly think a mountain was going to stop a beefcake of a princess infused with demon energy for more than five seconds?"
Soarin laughed. "I'm glad to be back too, Fleet. And for fuck's sake, stop calling me a princess!"
"But you're an alicorn!" Fleetfoot pointed to the fake steel horn bound to his forehead. "That makes you a Princess."
Soarin scoffed. "Whatever." Then he remembered his acquaintance, and all his mirth was sapped from him like water poured onto a thirsty plant. "Listen, you three," he growled. "I brought a little... gift with me."
Everyone stopped their celebration. Spitfire cautiously tilted her head. "Go on," she ordered, a slight severity creeping into her voice.
Soarin sighed. "It's probably best if you see for yourself." He turned around. "Follow me," he said. The three did as he asked, following him back to where he first saw them. Soarin stopped at a strange mass beneath him, and it wasn't until he somberly stepped aside that the three realized who it was.
Rapidfire was caked in his own blood, one wing missing some feathers and several lacerations across one limb. His blood-spattered coat appeared even redder than it actually was with all the crimson stained into it. It was clear just how severely injured he was, and it was unclear to the Lead Squad if he was recovering or not.
What he was doing, however, was waking up.
Spitfire's reaction was immediate. "You!" she shrieked, and before anyone could think, she had her forearm crushed against Rapidfire's windpipe. In no time at all she was pressing with all her force against him, quickly crushing his windpipe and cutting off his air. In three seconds, the orange pony was already gasping in desperation.
Soarin, shocked, immediately threw Spitfire off of him. "Holy fucking shit, Captain!" he cried. "Calm down!"
"Calm down?!" Spitfire screeched. "Calm down?! That worthless little shit is the most hedonistic coward I have ever seen! He's committed so many crimes against us that it would be impossible to list on a rap sheet! Goddammit, he kidnapped Wave Chill and slept with me while impersonating him! And you're telling me to calm down?!"
"Yes," Soarin barked, keeping himself firm. "I'm telling you to calm down."
Air Mach sniffed. "Surely such a coward is nowhere near a stallion! Let him die!"
"Yeah, Soarin," Fleetfoot murmured, stepping forward. "Rapidfire's done some godawful shit. Why should he go on living?"
Soarin blinked. They were right. Why did he suddenly stand up for Rapidfire? He hated him just as much as everyone else did, if not more, and he really had done some terrible things. So why now, when he's finally caught, does he decide to show mercy?
Soarin found the answer.
"Did Rapidfire kill anyone?" he challenged them. "Did his actions result in any deaths whatsoever?"
Silence. Then, "There was Midnight."
Rapidfire laughed. "She would've died even I had never been born!" he wheezed out of his damaged trachea.
Spitfire snarled. "One more word and I'll cut your dick off and choke you to death with it," she threatened.
"He's right," Soarin insisted. "The Shadowbolts invaded us collectively, and whoever killed Midnight, it wasn't Rapidfire.
"Don't get me wrong, you three. Rapidfire's crimes are heinous and inexcusable, and I hate him as much as the next guy, but he didn't kill. He's above killing."
Spitfire snorted. "No he's fucking not!"
"Yes he is."
"Prove it."
"He saved my life."
That shut Spitfire up. In fact, it shut them all up. Fleetfoot, Air Mach, and Spitfire's eyes all widened as they took the information in, jaws agape. This new information shook all three of them to their cores.
"That's right," Soarin continued, raising his voice. "He and I were stuck in a cave and had no other choice but to work together to get out. At some point down the road, it collapsed, and I got buried underneath it." Soarin paused to look at the hacking Rapidfire, then powered on. "By the time it was over, Rapidfire was at the exit of the cave.
"He could have left me there. He could have walked away and let me die. But he didn't. He dug me out of the rubble, knowing full well I'd just turn him in to you. He dug me out despite knowing he'd only suffer for it. And even though I'll never forgive him for what he's done, to me that's evidence enough that killing him would honestly be wrong. So I'm not about to sit here and watch anyone try to choke him to death."
Soarin stared solemnly at his three squadmates, waiting for one of them to respond. None of them did immediately, so Soarin waited in silence, the only sound being that of Rapidfire's gasps and chokes as he tried to open his windpipe. No one said anything for the longest while. It was a standoff between Soarin and his closest friends. All they did stare each other down. No one moved and no one averted their gaze.
Finally, after what felt like eons, Spitfire drew in a slow breath. Everyone turned to her as she squared her shoulders and donned a regal demeanor. Spitfire was about to punish Rapidfire.
"As Captain of the Wonderbolts," she began, "I've decided that for what he has done, in order to pay for his crimes, that Rapidfire..."
She faltered, her shoulders hunching. It seemed as if the words were stuck in her throat, like she hadn't truly decided. But she had, and before long, her head was whipped back up.
"...I declare that Rapidfire be sentenced to life in prison." Her head dropped, and, not waiting for the reactions from anyone around her, gripped Rapidfire's forearm and jerked him to his feet. "Get up," she growled, "and follow me to your cell before I change my mind and feed you your own balls."
Soarin was immediately behind Rapidfire, shoving him forward, while Fleetfoot and Air Mach, deciding not to protest against the Captain's word, wordlessly filled in on his front and left side. He was surrounded, choking, and injured. Should he try to resist, there was no way he could win. He simply let out a wheezy growl and angrily followed their formation, taking the slow walk to his new cell.
As the quintet neared the entrance of the compound, Rapidfire turned his head to face Soarin, and if looks could kill, the Power Flyer would be dead. "I hate you," Rapidfire snarled. "I hate you so fucking much."
Soarin returned his glare. "Ditto," he growled.
"Why would you bring me here? I saved your life!"
"I just saved yours, so I guess we're even."
The five ponies stalking down the hall drew a lot of attention.
"Is that Rapidfire?"
"Soarin's there too!"
"Where'd he come from?"
"Where'd he go to begin with?"
"What in the world...?"
None of the ponies walking down the hall paid any heed, not even Rapidfire. Soarin could feel countless pairs of eyes staring him and his posse down. He shrugged it off. Everything would be explained once Rapidfire was locked up. There might be confusion and there might be questions, but he was certain most Wonderbolts would be happy with his return, and Rapidfire's imprisonment. Soarin felt a strange trill of satisfaction.
"Soarin!" a familiar voice called to his right.
Soarin turned, but before he could even finish, Rainbow Dash's hooves were on him. "You're back!" she cried, smiling a mile-long smile as her eyes expressed just how joyful she was. A thrum of happiness exploded in Soarin's veins, and he wrapped his forelegs around his marefriend. "Dash!"
"Where the hell did you go?" she queried, hooking her forelegs over his shoulders. "I mean, I saw you crash into the mountain, but I didn't... I didn't know how hurt you really were."
Soarin frowned. "Don't worry, Dash," he soothed. "I'm fine now. At most, I'll need rest and some disinfectant. It was tough getting home, but I did it." His smile returned. "I'm just glad you be back home, with my friends and with you."
Rainbow said nothing, only squeezing Soarin till the breath came out of his lungs and laughing. A literal warmth spread inside Soarin, gently washing him over as he held his love close. He never thought he could care about someone so much, but here she was now, a Wonderbolt fangirl turned Wonderbolt captain, his whole entire world. Her mere presence colored his life with the richest of vibrant hues, uplifting the negatives and intensifying the positives. The rainbow of her mane was a contagious disease to him, soaking its colors into his person, of which the only cure was more of it. He loved Rainbow, and would never stop loving her.
Soarin looked down at the cyan Pegasus, flashing another smile, but the toothy grin faded away when he realized she jovialness had been sapped from her when she caught a glimpse at Soarin's guest. She stared the orange Pegasus down with a shadowed glare, boring holes into his skin. "What's he doing here?" she growled in a frightening tone.
"I managed to subdue him and turn him in," Soarin replied. "Spitfire tried to kill him, but I convinced her not to."
Rainbow's gaze shifted from Rapidfire to Soarin, changing from unbridled fury to total dumbfoundment. "You... You what?!"
Soarin narrowed his eyes. "Yeah," he hissed. "I went through the trouble of talking to Spitfire to spare Rapidfire. Get over it." Frowning, Soarin turned to catch up with the Lead Squad.
Rainbow, refusing to be dismissed so quickly, followed alongside. "But why? He's so... Disgusting."
"He's not a killer, alright? He hasn't murdered anyone. I know he's done some seriously fucked up shit, but he hasn't ended anyone's life, so I'm not going to let someone end his."
"He tried to kill you during that one fight back when he was a Wonderbolt!"
"Given his emotional state, that could've been second-degree murder."
Rainbow opened her mouth to tell Soarin how stupid that was, but he cut her off. "This talk is over. What's done is done. It's not like he isn't getting his just desserts. We're locking him up for the rest of his life. Before long, he'll probably want to die. You can feel free to grant his wish then, but for now, we're making use of the cells this compound has."
Rainbow could tell Soarin was not planning on keeping this argument going, so she gave in. Huffing, she hung back, watching Soarin assist his squad in escorting Rapidfire to his new cell.
The barred door swung open with a loud, high-pitched whine. Soarin gave Rapidfire a shove from behind, causing the Shadowbolt to fall forward into his cell. Spitfire immediately closed the door, locking it tight and handing the key to a nearby guard. "Throw it away if you want," she told him.
Rapidfire picked himself up off the ground. Forcing himself back into his hooves, and glared absolute death at Soarin. "Damn you," he snarled. "You'll pay for this!"
"Shut the fuck up," Spitfire hissed. "Don't make me do what I want to do."
Rapidfire moved his glare to her. The two stared at each other for a long, long while, but finally, Rapidfire broke away, growling.
"That's what I thought," Spitfire hmphed. Turning to the rest of her Squad, she flicked her head towards a doorway. "Let's go," she ordered. "We have business to take care of." They followed her command, trailing her on the way to the rest of the compound.
Rapidfire watched them go, a blaze of pure, unadulterated anger burning in his stomach. He couldn't believe after all he had gone through, being so close to having the importance he wanted, so close to finally being respected, it had all come to this. Now, despite his best efforts, one careless move meant he was now stuck in a cell, a prisoner. This was what he got for trying to make people appreciate him. For trying to be the somepony he always worked to be.
It didn't matter. This was just another setback. He'd get out. The guard would come too close to his jail cell, and he would knock him out and get the key. It was simple. It was easy.
Then Rapidfire realized the spaces between the bars were too small for him to fit his hooves through.
And suddenly he realized he didn't have a way out of this.
He felt himself grow nauseous at the thought.
