Soaring with Freedom

by Odd_Shot

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Spitfire
Length: 2337

The mid-fliers of the Wonderbolts deserve their respect, and Soarin will earn it for them.

Soarin finds freedom from the prejudice of the crowds.

Dedicated to Soaring and Flint.

Published 2016-04-28 12:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-04-28 12:50:01 UTC

Soaring with Freedom

The screams of the crowd filled Cloudsdale stadium. All cheers, jeers, and uncontrived fears. Soarin heard them all clearly as he flapped hard through the air, easily maintaining the same speed of his comrades. He looked at the two of them.

They flapped just as hard, pleased smiles on their muzzles, no doubt from the crowd’s reactions. Soarin used to dream of flying beside them, and here he was, fulfilling the dream as he had done so for the past years of his life.

Soarin was suddenly very aware of a certain kind cheering that had begun in the crowd. He seemed to be the only one able to hear it.

“Down with Soarin, he’s not roarin! Down with Soarin, he’s not roarin!”

Soarin’s face remained featureless as his fellow Wonderbolts flaunted their awe-inspiring endurance, performing maneuvers and coordinated movements a normal pegasus would only have had dreams of being capable of. A normal pegasus unjudged by society for being the supporting role for the elite team. A normal pegasus, free to fly wherever they pleased without interruption. A normal pegasus, free to do tricks anywhere without the restriction of a contract.

Soarin wished to be a normal pegasus once more.

“The crowd sure liked the new adaptation of the Icaranian Sun Salutation,” Spitfire chortled.

Fleetfloot smiled back as she walked down the hallway ahead. “Oh yeah, I haven’t heard them that loud since the Butterfly Incident.” Soarin felt a hoof nudge his side, interrupting his silence. He turned his head.

"Hey.” Spitfire smiled. “You did fantastic, Soarin.” Soarin stared silently back.

“You too,” the automatic monotone came, a little too late for Spitfire’s taste. Spitfire frowned as Soarin stared forward again.

“Soarin? Are you feeling alright? You haven’t been acting yourself these past few performances.”

“I’m fine.” Soarin followed Fleetfoot into the locker room, not bothering to leave the door open for Spitfire. Spitfire slipped in through the quickly closing crack and caught up to the quiet stallion, already slipping out of his sweaty flightsuit. She followed suit before her own locker.

“I don’t think so.” Soarin remained silent, tossing his discarded flight suit into the locker. He held the door open, staring into its depths. Spitfire shut her locker and trotted over.

“Soarin, come on, you can tell me whats up.” She laid a hoof on his shoulder. He remained unfazed, focused entirely on the picture inside his locker. Soarin pulled the polaroid from within and held it up to his face.

His father stared back, a proud smile on his face as he held held onto his only son. In the young Soarin’s tight grasp, was a paper, clipped with the iconic Wonderbolt badge. The latex suit he had worn for years wrapped around his body tightly, displaying his most prominent features for all to see. But what took Soarin’s current attention, sat at the end of the stage;

Spitfire, dressed in her officer’s regalia, medals hanging from the front. She wore a bright smile, and for good reason; she had just initiated her first Wonderbolt as a captain of the Wonderbolts.

Soarin placed the picture back into his locker, and then slowly, shut the door. His ears twitched as he heard another door open and shut, Fleetfoot’s hooves clopping loudly from behind the shower room’s door.

“Soarin?” He looked into his mentor’s eyes. Spitfire’s yellow hoof rested on Soarin’s shoulder as she spoke. “Please, Soarin. This isn’t good for you.”

“I know.” He took a breath. Soarin looked down at the tiled floor, his reflection staring right back at him from the glossy surface. A shiver ran through his body. “I know…”

“Hey.” Spitfire shook him lightly. He looked up again. “Why don’t we go talk in…” Spitfire paused, mouth agape. Under normal circumstances, she knew that her office was the place to go when it came to talking to a Wonderbolt face-to-face. But for Soarin…

“Let’s go talk in your room,” she decided.

”Wow!” Soaring stared slack jawed as he wandered about the room, setting his bags down with a thud. Spitfire watched the young stallion explore with a grin as she leant on the inside of the room’s doorway. Soaring turned back from his wanderings, bouncing excitedly before Spitfire.

“This is all mine. Captain Spitfire?”

“It sure is, Soaring. And just Spitfire is fine.” Soaring stopped bouncing. He returned an awkward smile.

“Sorry Ca- Spitfire…” He rubbed his wing awkwardly. “... And Soarin is fine too.”

“Soarin, huh?” Spitfire rubbed her muzzle thoughtfully.

“How about you and I go for a couple of laps, Soaring Flight?”

Spitfire smiled with mirth at the poster hanging on the wall.

“Roarin,” Spitfire said. A quiet reply came moments later from the only bed in the room.

“Soarin.” Spitfire sighed turning to the sad stallion on the bed. She trotted over to the side of the bed, frowning down at Soarin.

“You’re usually faster.”

“I know.”

“... Is it because the pie store a few clouds from here is closed for the weekend?” Spitfire’s lips upturned slightly as the stallion snorted.

“I wish.” She sighed and sat down next to the stallion who retained his hard stare upon the ceiling.

“Then what’s wrong?” She didn’t get an answer for a while.

Spitfire sighed and stared up at the ceiling. A poster of Soarin’s announcement as a new wonderbolt from years ago, “Roarin’ and Soarin’” was the only true object to grace the room’s walls, but the ceiling was covered from head to hoof with posters, newspapers, tickets, and all sorts of Wonderbolt materials from various eras. Following Soarin’s gaze, she found herself staring at one piece in peculiar.

Wonderbolts Captain Replaced by Spitfire: Can She Compete?

“Have you ever thought about it?”

Spitfire was caught off guard. “Huh?”

“The way things were before?” Spitfire chuckled.

“Always.” Soarin was silent again. Spitfire took the moment to speak.

“I like to think about the success the wonderbolts have had under my leadership, and how much more successful we’ve become over the years that i’ve flown side by side with all of my colleagues… and friends.” She shifted a little on the bed. “Why do you ask that?”

“... I want to go back…” He trailed off. Spitfire leaned in a little closer.

“Say that again, Soarin?” He took another breath, and spoke more loudly and confidently.

“I want to go back to the way things were before.” Soarin’s ear twitched. “I want to go back to the academy, where it was all of us training together, all unjudging of each other, all supportive, all caring…” He shook his head. “I just think ponies have gotten less caring for the other details that make us ‘The Wonderbolts.’”

“The other details?”

“... The rest of the Wonderbolts. Like me, like Rapidfire, Highwind, Blaze, Silver Streak, Flint Corkscrew, Surprise… “ He took another deep breath. “Like how we fly together in groups that don’t just include you or Fleetfoot…”

And just like that, Spitfire knew what was wrong.

“Everytime we go out to a group performance in cities like Manehattan, or Fillydelphia, I notice that if the flyroster for the coming Wonderbolts include you or Fleetfloot, the spectators are more than doubled.” Spitfire opened her mouth to intervene, but Soarin continued. “And it’s not just that!” He sat up, a new fire burning in his eyes.

“Those ponies that come to our shows… They’re almost always hecklers saying the same things over, and over, ‘We want Spitfire and Fleetfoot,’ or ‘Go home Underbolts!’ It’s nice to have loyal fans that support us, but even then, our teams are almost demotivated to do another show in that city for that week. What would you think if you were confronted at every event surrounding you and the ‘underdogs’ as unwanted and unliked?”

“I-”

“And i’ve been doing it for the entirety of my Wonderbolt career! The rest of us all have!” He looked at the Spitfire, the fire in his eyes dying down immediately. “You and Fleetfoot are the only two senior fliers in the active Wonderbolt roster right now,” Soarin whispered, wiping a tear from his eye. “But we may as well all be senior fliers, we’ve all flown together for years, and we’re still treated as though we’re the new recruits. We’re mid-fliers for Celestia’s sake! We deserve that respect, at the very least.” Soarin sighed, laying back on the bed.

Spitfire was still taking in the information. Perhaps she and Fleetfoot had been a bit blind of how their fellow Wonderbolts were treated. Thinking a little more about it, and back to how little Fleetfoot had cared in the locker room, maybe Soarin’s look at the two senior fliers was right…

Or had Soarin lost some of the thick skin he had held in the beginning as a Wonderbolt?

She recalled with some pleasure one of younger Soarin’s outbursts at a heckler in Fillydelphia. It had been one his first events, and many ponies had come to see the new flier in action. He’d flown so well, and had even pulled off an improvised corkscrew that fit perfectly into the coordinated trick, but his landing had caused some snickers from the crowd, much to the embarrassment of the stallion. He took it to heart though, adding to his ‘goofy’ personality that ponies of the earlier days looked at him with. But a pony simply used it to insult the new recruit, and paid deeply for it. The snobbish unicorn had run off in shame as he fell backwards from Soarin’s calm but deflecting jeers. The Soarin from then was a proud stallion, happy just to be able to fly alongside the best.

This was not the proud and strong Soarin she remembered.

“Soarin,” she began. “Don’t think that you’re below us, we’re all equal, we’re all Wonderbolts, we’re the best of the best.” She smiled down at the still frowning stallion. “Sure, there may be some ponies who think you to be… inferior, to the older fliers, but I know for a fact that those are few and far between. You just have to not let them get underneath your fur. Me and Fleetfoot have faced our share of hecklers, and we’ve had to block them out. We still get hecklers, even now.”

Soarin still remained quiet. He turned onto his side, facing the open window, his back towards Spitfire.

“Hey,” Spitfire put a hoof on Soarin. “You’re a strong pony. Stronger than I ever was. I know that for a fact. You’ve showed me that truth for years, and I don’t see why now you should let them get to you.” She paused. “... And I don’t think that’s the problem.” Soarin tensed up, and after a time, he turned back towards Spitfire and sat up.

“The problem is,” Spitfire took a deep breath.

“You feel shadowed by us, don’t you?”

Suddenly, a silence came pressing down upon the room, the walls seemed to squeeze in around the two, and Soarin’s eyes went shut, his breathing slowing to a crawl. Spitfire placed both of her forehooves on his shoulders as his brain began processing her words. And for a moment, time seemed to still.

Soarin’s eyes came open. “Yes."

Spitfire smiled.

“I can fix that.”

“We’re gathered here at Cloudsdale stadium for the first performance of The Diamondbolts!”

“That’s right, you heard it here first! The Diamondbolts are the newest flight team to arise in Cloudsdale airshows since the creation of the failed group, The Shadowbolts, in three years!”

“But that’s not who we’re here to talk about, are we?”

“No siree Ham Caster! In fact, we’re about to watch the first team of over a dozen ponies straight from the Academy, as well as a few ponies from The Wonderbolts themselves take flight in what is said to be ‘the biggest pegasus air show in Equestria since the first show of The Wonderbolts over a thousand years ago!”

“Oh, here we go folks! The highest ranking Academy member, Rainbow Dash, and Soarin from The Wonderbolts, are about to put this show on the road!”

“Let’s get to it then, Jolly Marks!”

“You ready for this?” Soarin asked as he flew closer to the approaching Rainbow Dash, who wore the same brand new Diamondbolts uniform as him.

“More than I was than flying for The Wonderbolts.”

Soarin grinned as the two met in the middle of Cloudsdale Stadium. Six ponies followed behind each of them.

“On the count of 3,” they mimicked.

“1…” The two groups began circling each other.

“2…” Ponies on both sides began moving as they began to form a slowly spinning cone.

“3…!” The ponies all linked hooves together as they began spiralling towards the ground in their cone-like form.

“Caster, are you seeing this?”

“I sure am Marks, and I do believe that we’re all at a loss as to what the first trick the Diamondbolts have to offer to us.”

“They’re spinning faster!”

“This is insane! Look how fast they’re going!”

“Wait, who’s that who just emerged into the middle of their formation from that cloud?”

“I… I think that’s Captain Spitfire!”

“Spitfire?!” Soarin yelled over the sound of the wind rushing past all of them. Spitfire linked hooves with Rainbow Dash and Soarin, both heading the bottom of the spinning cone.

“Don’t you worry your head Soarin!” Spitfire yelled back. “I studied the tactics, I know what you’re doing! I’d never let you live this down if you did this without me!”

Soarin strained to smile as his wings flapped even harder, their wings beating even faster.

“Get ready!” Rainbow Dash screamed.

And with one collective yell as the rainbow membrane began to form a huge cone below the group of 15 ponies, The Diamondbolts made their legendary first marks on Equestria as an aerial team.

Sun & Moon forever!

Author's Note

Dedicated to Soaring and Flint. Thanks for writing stories on Fimfiction, Flint. Hope you're doing well out there.