The Demon Comes On Rainbow Wings

by Stellar_

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Thriller, Adventure, Profanity, Violence, Crossover, Death, Alternate Universe
Length: 12231

Five years after the sky fell and decimated the planet, Rainbow Dash, desperate to get away from Equestria, signs up to fly as a mercenary in a far off war. You may take the sky out of the ace, but you will never take the ace from the sky.

On one dreadful night, in the middle of summer, the skies shattered, and a thousand bolts of light rained down from the heavens, laying waste to the land below.

The world five years later is a changed place. The massive loss of life from the 1996VG1 Ulysses asteroid sent the world into a shock and panic from which it has only just begun to recover from. Large nations, like Equestria, are quick to rebuild and recover. For those without deep pockets, however, times grow hard.

Griffonstone, a nation already falling to ruin before the disaster. Nationalism begins to rise in the Griffon Kingdom. They blame their leaders for not protecting them. They blame Equestria for not providing support. And most of all, they blame their neighbors for the failure of a pact between the nations of the world to build a weapon to defend themselves against the stars.

And so, with fury and speed never before seen in modern warfare, they Blitzkrieg across the continent, destroying all in their path.

Rainbow Dash signs up as a mercenary pilot for a backwater nation besieged by Griffon forces, desperate to get away from Equestria. With a wingman who would rather do his own thing than follow orders, and the might of the Griffon Air Force hunting them down, everything Rainbow Dash knows about fighting is thrown out and replaced with one simple realization.

There is only one ultimate rule in war-

SURVIVE.

Published 2018-04-02 16:40:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-12-08 02:36:54 UTC

Glacial Skies

NOVEMBER 24, 2014 NEAR A DISPUTED BORDER...

“Oh, her? Yeah, I know her....”

The Griffon in front of him shifted a bit on the stool he sat on, gripping an AK-47 close to his body. “It's going to take awhile… It happened years ago.”

He was silent for a moment, the echo of distant gunfire wafting through a broken window. “Did you know, there are three kinds of aces?” He suddenly asked. “Those who seek strength, those who live for pride, and those who can read the tide of battle.” As he said each one, he held up a claw. “And her… she was a true ace.”

He went silent. “Ten years huh?” Has it really been that long?” He sighed. “Damn…”

“So you did know her? Personally?” I asked.

He smiled at that. “Yeah… I did.” He got a distant look in his eyes, staring off at some unknown object.

The roar of jets shook the building as they passed low overhead, breaking the Griffon away from his memories. “That sound…” He strained his ear until they were long past, a new grin on his face. “Hay & Whinney F100 afterburning turbofans. What a sound, hm?” He turned to me. “F-15’s. Two of ‘em.”

Noting my surprised expression, he chuckled. “I flew ‘em during the war. Should know the sound by now.”

There was a pause. “Listen, kid…” He began, now speaking softly. “...the Second Usean Continental War was horrific. Devastating. The images I saw from the air still haunt my dreams to this day.”

“There were crimes committed by both sides, I won’t deny that. But what my country… my homeland did just so we didn’t have to ‘lose’...” He stared down at his claws. “That’s why I did what I did… That’s why I…”

“Everyone just wants to forget,” I said. “But they should know. Everyone should know what really happened during the war. And what a large part you played in it.”

To that, he gave a small grin. “It would be nice to finally get some recognition for what I did…”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“It was a cold and snowy day…”

APRIL 2, 2004 VALIAS AIRBASE, USTIO

A brief breeze blew across the terrain. Despite it being mid-spring, the weather was still cold, heavy, thick clouds constantly covering the sun, shrouding the landscape in perpetual twilight. Snow lay on the ground here most of the year, the temperature only rising high enough to melt the frost in late summer to make way for the wildflowers that would bloom out in abundance across the mountain range.

It was here, in the bleak, snowy, Tyrann Mountains where the demon first bared its claws.

She raced to her aircraft as sirens blared, a squadron of three MiG-21 Fishbeds roaring down the runway and taking to the gloomy sky.

She climbed up the ladder into the cockpit, the ground crew that had been refueling, rearming, and preparing the aircraft fell away as a loud whine began to fill the air. She reached back, bringing down the straps on each side, attached them together, and adjusted them, making sure they fit tightly against her body. She slid the helmet up over her mane, pitting it to the sides of her head, away from her face and out of her eyes. Clipping the two halves of the chin straps together, she brought the oxygen mask to her face, and slid down the visor.

She nodded to the dragon, apparently the crew chief, and she got the message, pulling away the chocks placed on the wheels. Appearing again below the cockpit where Rainbow could see her, she gave her a thumbs up, signaling that everything was all good. Rainbow gave a small nod, and once everyone had cleared the aircraft, nudged the throttle, the jet slowly beginning to roll forward. Taking a left on the taxiway, the press of a button on the dashboard closed the cockpit with a whirr, locking it into place around her. Clearing her throat, she reported to the control tower that she had begun to taxi to the runway.

An F-15 Eagle was ahead of her on the taxiway, hugging the right turns, and she followed it along until they both reached the runway. It was only when it began lining itself up down the center of the runway did she notice that its right wing was painted a crimson red.

Hanging on the threshold to the runway, she watched the red-winged Eagle start it's run, leaping into the air three quarters down the runway, it's twin turbofans kicking up snow and dust. With the blue glow of its afterburners fading into the clouds, she pulled her jet up, pointing it once again straight down the centerline.

Now it was her turn.

Following the echoes of the Eagle, she slammed the throttle open, pushed into her seat slightly as the afterburners propelled her down the runway, each bump and crack in the pavement kicking the aircraft from side to side.She pulled back hard on the stick, the rumbling increasing as the Draken pushed against the ground, struggling to get airborne. It finally leaped off the ground with the roar of the afterburners, pitching up to 40 degrees the ground fell away rapidly, her aircraft breaching the clouds above the base, emerging into the clear sky. As the gear folded into the aircraft with a clunk, she leveled off, pushing the throttle down to cruising speed, and raising the flaps.

“It's starting to come down…”

A shadow momentarily filled her cockpit, before swooping to her side, off her left wing.

The Red-Winged Eagle.

The squadron of three MiGs from before, who had been circling the base, were situated a few hundred feet higher than them, in a loose V formation. Down below, a pair of Tornado GR4s skimmed the snow, wings swept fully back.

One by one, they began.

“Shift One, on standby.”

“Shift Two, on standby.”

“Shift Three, on standby.”

“Panzer One and Panzer Two here, on standby.”

“Pixy here, armed and ready to rumble.”

She rolled her eyes. “Prism armed and on standby.”

She flipped some switches, her console beeping as her weapons were armed. At first it was only a few flurries, but then as they drew closer towards the clouds, the snow came down harder and harder, until flying below the thick clouds was an almost impossible task.

“This is base command, guess all you boys managed to get up. All squadrons, continue on your present course.”

“This is Pixy, roger that.” The F-15 responded, staying off her wing.

“Hey, who the hell thought it was a good idea to send up the Failzer squadron? Thought they were grounded after their last mission?” The voice of Shift Two cut in. “And aren't Tornados attack aircraft? What use will they be here?”

“I’ll have you know, Shit Two, that Tornadoes are actually fairly capable dogfighters, and are much more maneuverable at low speeds than your ancient MiG.”

“The Fishbed is a classic, and has served the world's air forces for over fifty years. It's a dogfighter, through and through. When was the last time a Tornado shot down an aircraft?”

“You were there, Saturn. If I remember correctly, you had a Gripen on your tail, and I...”

“Hey, this is Valais, cut the chatter! We’ve got a bearing on the incoming bombers, and we’ve updated your HUD!”

Her console beeped.

“Bearing 315, Griffon bombers approaching! We’ve got ten of them on radar, closing fast!” Shift One reported.

“B-52s and some Bm-335s. They’ve got escorts as well. I’m seeing a few flights of F-4s and F-5s above.”

“Nobody wants to bail out into a mountain of ice. We’re counting on you, flight leader.” Panzer Two said as the two of them pitched up, engines glowing.

“All units, prepare to intercept.”

“You’d better have our pay ready and waiting,” Pixy called back. “This’ll be a cakewalk. Hey Saki, be ready to pay up, we’ll be back before you know it.”

Whoever was on the other end of the line grunted. “We pay for number of targets destroyed, Pixy, not for mission completion. Better shoot down some of those bombers.”

The pilot laughed. “Do you know who you're talking too?”

Her radar beeped. Four aircraft, Bm-335 Lindwurms, flying in a loose V formation. Slightly above and behind them, five F-5Es hovered.

“Shift Squadron, follow me, we’re going high to deal with the escorts. Panzer, Pixy, you guys take care of the bombers.” The much more calm voice of Shift One said as his three Fishbeds began to climb, attempting to bait away the fighters.

“All units watch out, we’ve got enemy interceptors incoming. Don’t underestimate them, and don’t let them shoot down the bombers!” The voice was deeper and with a heavy Griffon accent. Must have been the escorts.

As she came out from behind a cloud, each aircraft in the distance became visible, a small black dot against a backdrop of white, each aircraft had a white contrail path leading right up to their position, the cold weather lowering the altitude at which contrails form. Behind them, seven more trails were visible, the second wave of B-52s.

A deep tone echoed through her headset as she switched to the long-range SAAMs, the system locking on to the nearest bomber.

Pixy peeled off and increased thrust, shooting off ahead of her. “Hey guys, lets mop 'em up quick and go for a little hot rum after this, eh?”

“Drinks on you tonight Pixy!”

As he groaned, she smirked slightly.

She closed her eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. The world went silent for a moment. She opened her eyes, all tension and worry swept away.

Let's do this.

She clicked her joystick. “This is Prism, Fox One!”

The AIM-7 leaped off its rail, snaking ahead, leaving a grey trail in its wake.

Flares and chaff lit up the sky as the bomber attempted to evade to the right, but only presented a larger target to hit.

In a quick flash, the bomber detonated, flaming metal raining down from where it had been in the sky.

Slash one.

“Whoa! Who is firing already?” Panzer One asked, lining up for a shot.

The enemy fighters broke away, scattering in all directions, going high and low.

“This is Shift One, engaging!” Missiles began to fly as yellow gunfire lit up the sky.

“One enemy bomber down! Nice kill, whoever that was!” Pixy praised. Then, not to be outdone, he shouted “Fox Two, Fox Two!”

Another bomber crumpled, spiraling down into the snow, it's wing ripped off.

“Jeez… that bomber looks ancient! Griffonstone still uses those things?” Panzer One commented, letting two missiles fly. They hit the wings, ripping large holes in the metal. The bomber wobbled in the air for a moment, seemingly refusing to go down, before an engine caught fire and the aircraft rolled over, slamming into the snow.

Now, only a single bomber remained, woefully outmatched, trying to avoid attacks from four enemy fighters.

“Agh, dammit, three bombers are already down! We’re sitting ducks down here! Where the hell are our escorts?”

She switched back to her normal Sidewinders, pulling a loose right bank over the last bomber, circling it as a Vulture would prey.

She dived down, slotting right onto the tail of the doomed bomber, flashes of cannon fire from the tail gun streaking past her cockpit. As she was about to take the shot, her HUD began to flash red, a frantic high-pitched tone blaring through her headset. She cursed, pulling back hard on the stick. “Dammit, I’ve got someone on my tail!”

She pulled another High-G turn and throttled down, her aircraft losing speed rapidly. The two missile streaks flew past, arching up into the sky and out of sight. The attacker, an F-5E, followed it's missiles, gaining altitude to attempt to get out from in front of her, the only place where she could attack him.

She activated the afterburners again, shooting up after him, staying right on the contrails. Lining up her sights, her aircraft rattled as she held down the trigger, the twin 30mm ADEN cannons spewing lead downrange.

The shot was hopelessly off target, but the point hadn't been to shoot him down. Startled by the gunfire, the pilot made a fatal error, failing to react to the two incoming missiles until it was too late.

She sailed through the debris, calling out her claim on the kill as her cockpit filled with white, flipping inverted and diving back towards the snow.

The last Lindwurm had been slain, by who she didn't hear, leaving only the Stratofortresses left to deal with.

Her craft beeped as it locked on, a sudden aircraft crossing in front of her. She blinked in surprise, then followed him, not going to pass up a free kill. It was an F-4, a Phantom, an aircraft designed to launch from aircraft carriers. It was a two-seater, from back when two-seat fighters were the norm, one to pilot and one to work the electronics, but many had been upgraded with new hardware allowing for only a single pilot.

This Phantom was away from the rest of the furball, possibly having recently outrun some missiles, or extending, trying to get a better angle on a target. But it didn’t matter, really.

She let the missiles fly, and one hit on the wing was enough to bring it down, the canopy popping off and falling away, and parachute deploying and drifting to earth.

She made a mental note to inform someone of the downed pilot.

“This is Otto 5, we’ve been hit! IFF is out of commission. Unable to carry out duty, withdrawing from operation airspace.”

A B-52, it's wing hit badly and spewing heavy amounts of smoke, shot overhead, still somehow staying airborne.

“One of the bombers has left the airspace. He must’ve chickened out.” Base reported.

“Why would he leave after getting this far?” Pixy wondered, dodging gunfire from the tail of another Stratofortress. Two more exploded in the distance, Pixy claiming them as him over the radio.

“Come on Pixy, leave a few for us will ya?” Shift Two begged, striking down an enemy fighter.

Pixy laughed. “It's every man for himself out here, you know that, Saturn.”

She looked back at the fleeing bomber. It had gotten a considerable distance away from the battle by now, despite its wounds. There was no one in the vicinity, and since no one was going for it…

She switched to her long-range missiles and flipped around, lining up the shot. With a beep, it dropped off the radar.

“Low-life mercenaries! Only you would be so cowardly to shoot down a plane that's out of commission!” The escorts growled.

“Damn! Who the hell pissed them off?” Panzer Two asked, dodging a missile. “And, uh… some help here?”

It was an F-5 on the tail of the Tornado, one painted bright orange with Tiger stripes painted up and down the aircraft.

This pilot wasn’t trying to hide, he was making his presence known to all. An enemy Ace, flaunting his skill with color.

“Fox Two!” She shot a missile at him, only a single one, not enough to shoot him down because she knew it wouldn’t hit.

Seeing that another player had entered the game, he broke away, pulling a tight turn left, and suddenly coming right at her, closing fast.

She pulled a split-S, flipping around inverted and pulling hard on the stick, going underneath the attacker who had turned right.

With the F-5 now above and to the right of her, she increased thrust, and regained altitude, chasing the little dot in the sky. Suddenly, the little craft pulled a high-G maneuver, once again coming in for a headon pass, but he was too high above her for her to get missiles off!

As the two yellow dots came towards her, the tiger ace peeling away. She panicked, throttling down and kicked the rudder hard to the left, pulling very hard on the stick, stalling her Draken right in the air, spewing chaff and flares everywhere.

The two sidewinders flew right past, detonating a distance away, the explosion shaking her aircraft. She grunted, the explosion rattling her around the cockpit. The aircraft began to slip, going into a flatspin. She cursed to herself, but remained calm. She knew how to handle this, she had done it many times before in training on how to handle this exact situation. Throttling up right up to the farthest it would go, practically leaning on the stick.

After dropping several hundred feet, air began flowing over the wings again, and her J35 slowly ceased it's spinning, allowing her to regain control over the aircraft. Pulling up ever so slowly from her dive, she chased after the fleeing jet, who had changed targets and was now going after one of the Fishbeds.

Closing fast, she squeezed off a burst of gunfire, only a few of the bullets hit, but none doing any real damage.

Suddenly, a new missile shot out of the clouds, blowing apart the F-5. “Hey! She pulled away from the now flaming wreck, watching as the cockpit flew off and the pilot ejected. “Who the hell just stole my kill?!”

A Fishbed pulled up beside her, a large number two painted in red on the tail. “Hey, you in the Draken, you’re the new pilot, right?” It was Shift Two.

“What does that have to do with you stealing my kill?!”

“You’ll learn quickly that there is only one rule for us mercenaries…” He banked away, trailing white contrails in his wake. “... it's everyone for himself!”

“He’s a bit of a dick. Just ignore him like everyone else.” Panzer Two commented, flying alongside. “And, uh… thanks for getting that guy off my tail. I owe you one.”

She didn’t say anything, following the trails of the Fishbed, up towards where the last wave of enemy bombers waited.

“This is Otto 16 to our escorts. Where the hell are you?! We’re getting slaughtered down here!” Another bomber shuddered from a missile impact, falling down in flames. “Damn, another one down…”

“We’re trying our best, but these guys are giving us a hell of a fight!”

“Fox One!” She led the radar missile to its target, a flash signaling the end of another bomber.

“Ah... fuck it. Otto Squadron, follow me, we’re getting the hell out of here!” As flares and chaff clouded the radar screens, the remaining B-52s made a mad dash for home, the few remaining fighters fleeing alongside them, attempting to draw attacks.

“This is base command. Looks like the enemy craft are retreating from the airspace. Good job everyone.”

She hovered from a distance away, watching the battle as it drifted away. Yawning, she turned towards home.

“Is Shift Squadron still out there?” Panzer One asked, the Tornado off her right wing, it's sweep wings now fully extended.

“Not all of us.” Came the response from a lone Fishbed. “Saturn and Orion, the idiots, are still out there chasing glory. One day, Saturn’s going to get himself into a heap of trouble and drag his brother down with him…”

“It will be fun to watch when it happens,” Pixy commented. “That bug’s just too damn annoying.”

A chorus of agreements came across the radio.

The lights of Valais appeared out of the haze. She should get used to seeing them, she reasoned. She was going to be here for some time.

It all started on that snowy day.

My first impression was… she had potential.

Solo Wing

Side by side, two aircraft appeared out of the mist. Two warriors, freshly bloodied, followed the yellow lights of Valais home.

A puff of smoke and squeal of rubber signaled their touchdown only moments apart, steam rising from the pavement as the jetwash rolled over it. They came to a stop halfway down the runway, turning left to the taxiway as another pair of jets landed, the F-15 she had followed in instead turning right.

As soon as her jet had stopped moving it was immediately set upon by ground crew, the glow of the engines fading. Intakes were covered, fuel was drained, and unspent missiles were unmounted.

Rainbow pulling the helmet off her head, breathing in the clean mountain air as the canopy rose. She listened as the jets came in, her mane blowing in the breeze.

“You okay?”

It was the Dragon from before. She stood beside her, standing on a stepladder that had been pushed next to the cockpit. Her scales were a scarlet red, and she stood at about the same height as Rainbow, perhaps a little taller. Her most surprising feature was that she looked young. “Hey? You hurt or something?”

“Ah, no. I’m fine.” She finally spoke. “Just…”

“First sortie?”

She shook her head. “No… I’ve flown combat missions before. I guess I’m just letting the adrenaline wear off…”

“Hmm. Guessing you're the new pilot I was told to look out for, then. How many kills?”

“Four. My firsts.”

“Well congratulations, then. Head on over to the Sky Kid later and tell that to the barkeep, free drink for anyone’s first score.”

“You a pilot?” Rainbow asked, pulling herself out of the cockpit.

The Dragon shook her head, climbing down the ladder making way for her. “Negative. At least, not for the military. I’m just a mechanic here. Names Sanka, by the way.”

“I’m…” She hesitated for a moment. “My name’s Rainbow. Rainbow Dash. Callsign Prism.”

The Dragon glanced at her mane and then back to her. “So, did you dye your mane because of your name, or..?”

“Oh, this?” She brushed her mane through it. “This is natural. Born with it.”

“Well, now I can say I’ve seen everything.”

Rainbow smiled at that. “If a Rainbow-maned Pegasus surprises you, you clearly haven’t spent enough time in Equestria.”

“I guess not.” Smiling, the two of them shook, hoof and claw.

Her hooves met the tarmac as the last missile was unmounted. She turned and watched the Diamond Dog team cart it away on the back of a trolley.

Turning back to her aircraft, she gave it a once-over with her eyes, making sure there was no battle damage across the airframe.

“You know, I used to have these things fly over my den every day when I was a kid. Hell, I’m pretty sure these things are the reason I’m here right now.”

“I had something similar, actually. Grew up only a few blocks from where the Wonderbolts practiced every year. Could pretty much see right into the airbase from my roof.” Rainbow responded. “Pretty sure I have the rumble of the F-18 to thank for my life.”

While some might consider the J35 Drakken to be ugly, with its large double-delta wings, tall rudder, and huge air intakes at the front of the wings, it’s charm was in its age, even older than the earliest models of the MiG-21 at nearly fifty years. It was one of the first supersonic fighters ever produced, and because of that saw extensive use in northern countries for thirty years before being replaced by newer fighters.

Her model was the newest version, the J35J, built from earlier models of the aircraft and with an improved engine and avionics. Her aircraft was painted an olive green, dark green camo pattern overall, though there were several places were the color of the paint was slightly different shades in some places, where old numbers and markings had been painted over.

A large light green number 3 was painted on the left wing, with a 2 on the right. The same two numbers were painted on each side of the rudder. The tri-colored triangle of the Ustio Air Force was displayed on each wing and the fuselage, though she assumed they would be covered by the ISAF logo soon enough.

“Ugh…” She yawned, stretching out her body and wings, flapping them a few times. “Feels good to finally get out of that cockpit after sitting for eight hours…” She turned to find Sanka watching her, but when they met eyes the Dragon quickly turned and rushed away.

“...Huh.”

Walking back up to her aircraft, she grabbed her worn green duffel bag from behind the seat, slinging it over her shoulder.

Two more aircraft came in, and she watched as the wheels hit the pavement. Panzer Squadron, their Tornados variable sweep wings fully extended, turned right at the end of the runway, just like Pixy had. She watched them as they taxied across the base, tracking them by their lights through the mist. They turned onto a smaller runway, one that ran at a different angle than the main runway, before disappearing into a tunnel built into the mountain.

She could hear the distant whine of jet engines as they circled the base, waiting for their chance to land, but she couldn’t see them through the clouds. A single snowflake landed on her muzzle, and she watched it melt.

“Ex-Staff Sergeant Rainbow Dash. Ex-Equestrian Air Force, Ex-122nd Flight Demonstration Squadron.”

The Zebra before her sat at his desk, flipping through her papers, occasionally grunting or frowning at something printed. The office was sparse, the only things in the room a large desk and filing cabinets. The only thing that hung on the walls was a large map of Usea, but it was heavily worn and faded, and most likely several decades out of date.

“Three years in the REAF?” He closed and sat the papers down on his desk, looking up at her, standing at attention in front of him.

“Yes sir. Just over a year as reserves, and then a year each in two different squadrons.”

“Your last squadron… the 122nd, in Cloudsdale. That's the Wonderbolts, isn't it?”

She gulped. “Yes.”

“I’ve heard it’s a very elite squadron, hard to get accepted into. I’ve just never heard of anyone wanting to leave the Wonderbolts.”

“No combat, sir.” She lied. Leave the Wonderbolts? No pony has ever wanted to leave the Wonderbolts, The Wonderbolts was someplace everyone wanted to be, not leave. Truthfully, she had never actually left the Wonderbolts, simply stopped showing up, though she doubted they would accept her back after what had happened. “We were an Airshow squadron, we did performances, stunts, stuff like that. We would never be deployed to the front lines in anything but a symbolic role.” She shrugged. “So I left, and came here.” All lies.

“Well, then.” The Zebra nodded, sliding the papers to the side and standing up. “I formally welcome you to the 6th Air Force, Miss Dash.”

“Thank you.” They shook hooves before sitting back down.

He introduced himself. “My name is Saki, I’m the commander of the 6th Air Division and this air base. Normally, we would assign you to an already existing squadron, however, as you can tell, we’re very low on both pilots and planes at the moment, so we’re assigning you to a brand new squadron with another one of our currently unassigned pilots.” He slid a bundle of papers towards her. “These are your deployment orders, effective immediately.”

“66th Air Force Unit?” She read off the paper. “And your making me the squadron leader!?”

He nodded. “Despite your Wingman having more combat experience than you, Command has decided for you to lead, due to your experience in command and the fact that your wingman is… somewhat of a loose cannon.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “The last few squadrons he was stationed in were either all shot down or he was written up for disobeying orders. The Zebra shook his head. “I’d call him something of a restless soul. Constantly craving for action and he gets restless when he doesn't find it. He’s been known to start fights around base and might be a bit hostile to you at first.”

Rainbow actually chuckled at that. “Well, it doesn't sound like anything I haven’t seen before back when I trained recruits.”

“Glad to hear that hasn't dulled your confidence.” Saki slid another folder over. “That’s his file.” She opened it as Saki continued. “His name is Larry Foulke, though he often goes by his callsign; Pixy. Solo Wing Pixy if he's feeling flamboyant. He’s been with us for quite some time, and is very skilled, with a high number of kills.”

Rainbow nodded as he continued, reading the file given.

Second Lieutenant Larry Foulke, aged 28. Born 1976, in Griffonstone. Signed up to fight for the Royalist Liberation Front during the Griffon Civil War as a grunt until their defeat in 1993. Fleeing the country shortly after, he spent four years working in steel mills in Equestria before signing up to fly during the Saddle Arabian Oil Crisis in 1997. He participated in several small regional conflicts, before finally arriving in the 6th Air Force in 2003.

“He sounds like quite the pilot.”

“An understatement. He has more kills than everyone else on the base. Now... “ He pulled out a pen from his desk. “.. I know you’ve read the contract, so I won’t go over it again, but I will mention a few things that were left out of the initial document.”

Rainbow listened closely. “While we are under the payroll of ISAF, we receive much less than a active duty squadron would. Mostly because they don’t give a shit about us. So, everything, and I mean everything, comes out of your pocket. Everything from food and water to missiles, fuel, and even new aircraft can be bought from the PX. Minor maintenance work on your aircraft will have to be done personally. You receive pay for aircraft shot down, tanks destroyed, emplacements strafed, you get it.” She nodded. “Of course, you also receive a 10,000 bonus at the end of your tour, should you survive.”

Rainbow nodded. This was all stuff she had heard before, back when she had met her recruiter.

“Now, there’s one last thing to discuss before you can sign this final document, and that is your health.” Rainbow shuddered. “More specifically, your mental health.” She had been dreading this part.

He voice lowered, getting deeper and more serious. “Considering that HQ already passed you, I won’t get into it too much. But you should know that war is a dirty business. People live, people die. You’ll see some terrible shit, even if your not on the front lines. We can’t have someone breaking under the pressure.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen it before.”

“I’m… aware that command considers me a slight risk, sir.” Rainbow replied. “But I have yet to suffer from any sort of ill effects from my injury, so-”

Saki held up a hoof to silence her. “I know.” He said. “I’m just notifying you that I have been told to look out for reports of… behavior from you.”

“I… thank you, sir.”

He nodded. “Now that all the official stuff is over…” He slid one final piece of paper to her. “Sign this and you can get out of here.”

After giving it a brief skim with her eyes, she eagerly scribbled down her name, writing in cursive as best she could.

“Thank you.” She slid the paper back to him, stood up, and saluted. He returned the salute, and Rainbow picked her duffel bag of the floor and made for the door.

“Oh, sir…” She turned back to the office from the doorframe. “I… I request for you to not share personal information about me to anyone else on this base.”

He nodded, and she shut the door.

She stood in the hallway for a moment, let out a tense breath, and made her way down the hall.

Stepping out into the cold, she shivered, before looking over and finding her aircraft where it had been parked.

The rumble of a engine caused her to look up, just in time to see a rather strange vehicle come around the corner, but one she instantly recognized.

It resembled some sort of ATV and motorcycle cross, with the front looking like a standard motorcycle front, but the back replaced with a tank-like tracked section that seated two.

It stopped a few feet from her, a diamond dog who had been riding in back dismounting and dashing towards the administration building.

“Is that a…”

“Sonderkraftfahrzeug 2 Kettenkraftrad HK 101? Yes it is.” Sanka said from behind the handlebars as Rainbow approached, grinning slightly.

“Uh.. yeah, that.” Trying to process what the Dragon just said, Rainbow just admired the ancient vehicle she had rode in on. “How…?”

“I took Griffon in University.”

Satisfied with that answer, she took a moment to look over the vehicle. “Nice ride.”

“Thank you. So, I assume you need to be someplace, otherwise you wouldn’t have come over.”

“Well, while I did come over to check out this nice machine. I actually do need to be someplace. You know where Hangar 13 is?”

“Ah, yes, it's over in the Citadel. Hop in, i'll take you.”

Slightly giddy, she placed her bag in the place between the seats, and lifted herself into the back. As they began to move, she took a glance back to her aircraft, before turning to her driver.

“So, this thing yours?”

“Yeah!” Sanka replied, keeping her eyes ahead. “Found it run down in a small garage beside one of the old hangers by the flight line! It was in fairly good condition when I found it, only needed a few replacement parts for the engine and the tracks! Took it apart myself and reassembled it over about two months!” She swerved onto the runway, gunning across it.

As they made their way out across the base, the Kettenkrad squeaking and rumbling across the pavement, Rainbow spoke up, shouting over the noise.

“Hey, uh, slow down will ya? I may like to go fast but that’s only when I’m in control!”

The Dragon just laughed as they sped past a row of hangers and fuel tanks. Rainbow managed to catch a glimpse of a EF2000 in one of the hangers before it was out of sight.

They reached the end of the taxiway, making a sharp turn left onto the second, smaller runway. She finally saw their destination: a thick concrete tunnel drilled right into the rock. Two large metal doors stood at the entrance, their interlocking metal teeth giving them an imposing look. As they passed through the gateway, she could see that the doors were at least a few feet thick, and most likely very heavy. The daylight faded, being replaced by overhead lamps the farther they went down the tunnel. Eventually, the tunnel opened up to a large area, enough space for several aircraft to be taxied around. Two similar tunnels branched off to the right and left, leading to hangers.

On the side, two Tornado GR4s lay, ground crew unmounting the last bits off the aircraft. In front of both aircraft, two figures stood, conversing with another member. Even if she couldn't tell even what species the two were, she knew they were pilots. The stance was unmistakable.

“Hey, Gryphus!” Sanka called out, beginning to slow the bike.

One of the figures turned, and Rainbow was finally able to get a good look at it. She blinked in surprise. It was a deer, two of them, to be exact. She had never seen one in person before.

“Ah, Sanka! Just the Dragon I wanted to see!” It was clearly a male, a small pair of antlers sitting atop his head. His voice was thick with an accent, but it was one she hadn’t heard before. “My Electronic Countermeasure Pod conked out in the middle of the flight, had to dodge the missless the old fashioned way!” He laughed at that. “Anyway, thought you could take a look at it.” It was then he noticed Rainbow sitting in the back. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Rainbow.” She replied, climbing off the bike. “ And you, I believe, are Panzer Two, correct?”

The deer's eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah, yes! The new pilot in the Draken!” The two of them shook hooves. “And I must say, thank you again for saving me a couple million dollars and stopping me from taking the helicopter of shame back to base!”

She chuckled. “Your welcome.”

“So your the new Greenie, huh?” Another deer approached, this one female. “Name’s Nagase. Panzer One.”

“I saw you take out those bombers back there. Some pretty nice flying for such a heavy aircraft.”

“Thanks. The Tornado might be an attacker, but it's a surprisingly capable dogfighter. Speaking of which…” She turned to the shorter dragon. “I took some rounds to my wing from a tailgun from one of the Stratofortresses. Nothing too serious, at least I hope.”

Sanka nodded. “So, a patch job and fixing a ECMP? That I can do.” She called out to one of the ground crew as she made her way towards the Tornados, leaving the three pilots standing next to each other.

“Hey, I never thanked you for saving Gryphus’ ass back there. I owe you one, as I’m sure he does too.” Nagase turned to the buck. “Right?”

“Yeah…” He smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, again.”

Checking her papers one last time, she looked up at the large black block numbers marked over the two tunnels branching out from the room they were in. One side read 1-9, and, turning to the other, it said 10-19.

“Guess I go to the right…”

“Where you headed?” Gryphus spoke up.

She showed him her paper. “Says here Hangar Thirteen.”

“Thirteen? Isn’t that Pixy’s place?” The question directed more towards Nagase than her.

“Yeah, it is,” Nagase answered, confused.

“It should be. I’ve been assigned to him.” Rainbow took back her paper.

Both the Deer looked at her in shock. “Command assigned you to be Pixys wingman?”

She shook her head. “No, he's my wingman. We’re forming a new fighter group, the 6th. I’m the commander.”

“Ah. They finally sent someone to tame the beast, then.” Nagase smirked a little at that. “Good luck. Thirteen is down that way on the right.”

“Uh… thanks?” She was slightly confused by their reaction. It was almost like they were perhaps a bit scared of him. She smirked. She had faced down Discord, Tirek, Chrysalis, and Spitfires constant yelling, as well as possibly some of the worst recruits she had ever met.

The tunnel was very much like the entrance, thick concrete and a curved roof, the industrial lights turning everything an orangish-yellow. But this time large door lined the sides, each marked with a number.

Towards the end of the hallway, she found her destination.

On the hanger door was painted a large white thirteen, and to the right a smaller, more personal sized door. She pushed it open with her hoof, stepping inside.

The inside was much like the outside, arched concrete roof and a space barely wide enough for a single aircraft, though this passage was long enough to hold two lined up. In the center sat an F-15, the C model she assumed. On the left wing sat a Griffon, a welding mask to his face, sparks flying from an expanded set of wiring in a service panel. Just like she had seen before, about 3/4ths of the right wing was painted a crimson red, the other remaining the same light grey as the rest of the plane. Other than the ISAF roundels, and the aircraft number being 011, there was no other marking on the aircraft.

The Griffon lifted his head from his work, looking over to her when he heard her walk in. He pulled the helmet off his head and looked her over, sizing her up.

He was a pretty average Griffin, standing a good half foot taller than her and twice her size. His body was a light grey, contrasting with the normal ivory white of his head. Her eyes were drawn to his right side, where, just like on his aircraft, his right wing was a dark crimson red. She blinked in surprise. It was something she had never seen before.

“Who are you?” The Griffon asked.

“Are you Larry Foulke?” She asked, showing her papers.

“I am.” He answered, climbing down from the wing. “Who needs me?”

“I do.” She handed him the papers when he reached her. “My name’s Rainbow Dash. I’m your new flight lead.”

Author's Note

Introducing: A Brother In Arms
Larry "Solo Wing" Foulke
Aka Pixy

Done by HoodwinkedTales

Sky Kid

As she stepped into the on-base bar that was the Sky Kid, she was instantly hit with the smells and sounds that came through the door. The sound of a soft harmonica and guitar combo and quiet conversations combined with the smell of a burning wood fire and cooking food told her instantly that this would be her favorite place on the base.

It was an aviation geeks dream. Memorabilia hung all over the walls. Pictures of past squadrons stationed on the base, dating from black and white photos of interwar biplanes from the 30s, to more modern supersonic jets, the most recent dated only two years ago. Collections of medals, painted pin-ups in provocative poses on metal sheets from retired aircraft, various paintings keeping with the theme, a few machine guns and other weapons, and a whole bookshelf in the corner filled with stacks of thick books.

Plastic models hung from the ceiling engaged in mock dogfights while an old black and white television hung above the bar displayed the news. To the side, Gryphus and Nagase sat together, one playing a harmonica and the other strumming a guitar.

This place was heaven.

In awe, she crossed the room, aware of a few eyes that tracked her as she went. Ending up at the bar on the far side of the room, she sat down at one of the stools.

“You’re that newbie, uh… Prism, right?” Behind the counter, a brown dragon stood, polishing a goblet that appeared to be made of solid gold and covered in encrusted jewels.

“Uh… yeah, that's me.” She said, still staring at the cup.

“Sanka was in here a few minutes ago talking up a storm about you. Said your pretty good.” He flipped the Goblet over, placing it top down on the counter. “Said you would be coming in, actually.”

Rainbow couldn’t help but be surprised at this. “Really?”

The Dragon nodded. “She seems really fixated with you, actually. I guess it's just because you two are the only females on the base. Or…” He went silent for a moment, before resuming. “Anyways, four kills for your first sortie isn’t anything to scoff at, so, as is custom...” He gestured to the casks against the wall behind him. “First drink is on the house.”

“I don’t suppose you would have anything Equestrian all the way out here.”

He shook his head. “Nothing currently. We’re all out, and command has more pressing matters to attend to than us running dry.”

“Give me whatever you got up currently then.”

The Dragon nodded and withdrew, giving Rainbow a chance to look around more. There were several faces here that she had yet to meet, most sitting around the scattered tables. A pack of Diamond Dogs played a game of cards, occasionally glancing over their shoulders. A Dragon and a Changeling sat around another one of the tables, although with the Dragon’s eyes closed and the Changeling staring off at some unknown distant object, they clearly weren’t interacting.

“Here ya go.” The dragon returned, placing a glass of some kind of dark red liquid in front of her, foaming slightly.

Taking one look at it, Rainbow picked up the mug and downed half of it in one go.

“Ugh…” She shuddered. “That's powerful stuff.” She smacked her lips. “...Cherry?”

The Dragon nodded.

“Hm.” She shrugged and took another sip.

Suddenly the front door slammed open, and Rainbow turned to see, to her surprise, two Changelings walk in, a scowl clear on the first one’s face, while the one following seemed much happier. While them being Changelings wasn’t in itself surprising, what was surprising was that they were pre-reformation Changelings, black body, hole-filled legs and all.

“So, how was your little wild goose chase boys?” The bartender asked. The lead Changeling rolled his eyes.

“Oh shut up Horde. And wipe that stupid smirk off your face and bring us some drinks will ya?”

The Dragon didn’t say anything as he turned to help them, though the smirk remained. The two Changelings made their way to where the Dragon and other Changeling sat, sliding onto stools beside them. “So, you two miss us?”

“Like a cold.” The Changeling didn’t take his eyes off the TV, though he got a small scowl once the two of them had sat down. He was a light purple color, and taller than the other two Changelings.

“Oh, you know you love me. Right Skull?”

“Fuck off Saturn.”

“Whoa, okay.” The Changeling held up his hooves defensively. “Well someone's unusually pissed…”

“So, judging by the scowl as you two came in, I’m guessing that not only did your little break away to chase glory end in failure to secure any kills for yourselves, you also wasted fuel and damaged your aircraft, didn't you?” Horde asked, coming up to the table.

“Just give us our damn drinks, Horde.”

“You’re too predictable!” Horde laughed as he returned to the counter.

“So…” She leaned forward slightly. “Horde huh? Strange name for a dragon.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Truthfully, it's not my actual name, just one given to me by the guys here. I come from a family a little too dead-set on keeping things traditional, and so named me in the ancient Dragon tongue.” He laughed. “No one outside my family has ever come close to pronouncing it correctly, so I stopped trying to get people to. And since I also run the PX, my “horde”, hence the name.”

Rainbow nodded and drained the glass, before gesturing to the four sitting at the table. “Who’re they?”

“Shift Squadron. You shoulda seen them up during the intercept, they fly Fishbeds. The big purple is Rubicon, he’s the Squadron Leader. Shift One. He’s normally pretty chill, unless he’s yelling at the rest of his squadron. Then the two twins are Saturn and Orion, Shift Two and Three. Saturn is the bigger one, in case you couldn’t tell them apart. The two of them never leave each other's side. And the Dragon is Skull. He’s the self-proclaimed badass, him and Pixy usually clash.”

“So, a squadron of misfits and their handler.” She laughed. “Like I haven’t seen that before.”

“Pretty much. Want a refill on that?”

“No thanks. So you mentioned Pixy…”

“What you want to know about?”

“Just his background, you know, stuff about him.”

“Mhm. Honestly, if it’s his past you want to know about, you’d have more luck asking him yourself. No one knows much, tries to keep it under wraps. All I know about him is that he apparently fought in the Changeling Civil War before signing up here, based on what he told me one time, but he hasn’t mentioned it since. Only other thing I can tell you is he never writes anyone and rarely leaves the base. So, I’m guessing he either has no family or doesn’t want to keep in touch with them.”

“Hey, Horde!” The Changeling who Horde had identified as Saturn came up beside her, waving his empty mug. “I heard my name.”

“Speak of the devil, I was just telling Rainbow here about you and the rest of your squadron.”

“Yeah? What kinda lies you spinning about me?” He placed the mug on the counter.

“Well, let's see… You’re a liar, reckless, selfish, and don’t care for anyone besides yourself. You disobey orders, and often drag you and your brother into dangerous situations where the rest of your squad has to come and bail you out. Me and everyone else on their entire base are honestly surprised you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet. Shall I go on?”

The Changeling laughed. “Hey, I care for my brother too!” He turned to Rainbow. “Can you believe this? He does this with every new recruit Telling them all this crazy shit about me, trying to paint me in a bad light.”

“I dunno, all the things he’s said seem pretty true from what I’ve seen. You steal kills too don’t you?” Rainbow kept her eyes straight ahead, not looking at him.

“Hmm?”

Before Saturn could react, he found a hoof punch him right across the face.

“Ah!” The Changeling recoiled, and stumbled a bit, stepping back. “What… in the name of the Holy Mother was that for?”

“That, was for my kill you stole,” Rainbow said, sitting back down. “Plus, you have a very punchable face.”

In the meantime, Horde was doubled over laughing. “Oh, you should have seen the look on your face! Priceless! I love it when the new recruits get sick of your shit!”

The Changeling was unamused. Glaring at Rainbow, he raised a hoof. “Why you…”

“Hey!” Horde interrupted. “No fighting in my establishment!”

“But…” He pointed an accusing hoof at Rainbow. “She started it!”

“And you deserved it. Now sit down and don't make me throw you out again.”

Saturn opened his mouth to protest, but then gave up and slid the empty mug towards Horde. “Just fill it up so I can get outta here.”

“Well, that was a surprise,” Gryphus said as he and Nagase made their way over, the two of them sitting beside Rainbow. “Hey, Horde, two more over here!”

“Always fun to see Saturn getting punched around,” Nagase said as Horde made his way back over, and was about to say more when the front door opened.

“Hey! Pixy!” Gryphus waved the griffon over as he walked in the door, seemingly carrying something heavy on his back.

Seeing Rainbow sitting there with them, the Griffon groaned and walked up to the counter, attempting to put some distance between him and the Pegasus.

“Anything for you Pix?” Horde asked as he returned, three drinks in his arms.

“Just another refill for this.” He heaved a metal grey-blue gas tank onto the counter.

“What's this, the third this month? You know we're gonna run out of these if you keep using then at this rate. Might have to get Sanka to start welding for you.”

“Heh. Never gonna happen though. Don't tell her this, but she's too imprecise to work on the small stuff I need. Where is she, by the way?”

“Don't know. Working on a project probably.” Picking up the tank off the counter, he looked it over. “Ya know, I should probably start charging you more for these…”

“You do that and I might actually consider getting Sanka to do the welding.”

“No you won't.”

“Hey, you going in back?” Rainbow asked. “I've got a request.”

“...Hmm, yeah, I think I've got a few stockpiled. Have to check though.” He said after hearing what she needed.

As Horde disappeared from sight behind a door, Nagase turned to Pixy.

“So, Pixy, how's finally being under someone's command feeling?”

“Annoying. Especially to someone who's an inferior pilot.” The last part was accompanied by a glare towards Rainbow, who just rolled her eyes.

“Eh, you'll get over it.”

The Griffon huffed at that.

“Wait, Pixy, you got assigned as a wingman to Rainbow? What'd you do to get on their good side?” Saturn, who was still sitting there, asked Rainbow. “Nothing sexual I hope.” This received him a smack on the head from Nagase.

“Don't you Changelings know how to behave in front of a Mare? I swear…” She turned to Gryphus, who was snickering. “And don't get me started with you, mister.”

“Alright!” Horde returned, carrying what was requested. “Here's your thing…” He lifted a new tank onto the counter. “And, Rainbow, for you…”

Placing a gun case on the counter, he slid it towards Rainbow, who opened it.

“Five magazines, one assault rifle. I'm hoping you know how to use that thing.”

“Of course. That's basic training.” She shut and locked it with the provided key.

“Well, I'm out for tonight. Hoping to finish these modifications before next sortie.” Pixy picked up his replacement tank, hauling it over his back.

“Remember to record what you modify! Manufacturers will pay lots to anyone who can improve their designs!” Horde called after him as he left.

“I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive!” Pixy shouted back, the door closing behind him.

“So yeah, you're definitely going to have your hooves full with him. Good luck.” Nagase patted Rainbow on the back.

“Wait… Pixy got assigned as your wingman?” Horde asked, surprised. “Didn't you just arrive here?”

“To be honest, I don't know exactly why they decided to pair the two of us together. Guess my record was good enough to assign me a squadron.”

“You came from the Equestrian Royal Air Force, didn't you? If you were an officer there that might be why.”

“Hm.” She stood. “I should get going. Got a few more things to do before I turn in for the night. Settling in, you know. Thanks for the introduction guys.”

Horde smiled. “Yeah, thanks for stopping by. And make sure to stop by later and buy more of my stuff!”

Nagase and Gryphus waved, but said nothing.

She stepped out into the cold night once again, her breath visible in the air. She turned as the door shut behind her, and began a slow, steady trot towards the edge of the airbase, passing the command tower, service buildings, hangars, and a few of the outside barracks, before reaching what she was looking for; a low-lying building in a more army-centered portion of the base, the area it was located in clearly a staging area for tanks and other such vehicles, with garages and helicopter pads on the concrete. The shooting range.

The walk over, while a relatively quick one, gave Rainbow time to look up at the night sky, the weight of the gun case clanking against her leg as she walked. It was beautiful tonight, the sky unnaturally clear after the snowstorm earlier today. With most the base lights blacked out, all the stars normally blocked by light pollution could make their appearance, shimmering silently in the sky.

The moon, Luna’s moon, was at a crescent tonight, It was barely visible tonight, but it shone bright like always.

She paused, and frowned slightly. Five dots that were definitely not stars moved slowly overhead. She turned her head toward the direction they were going. In the distance, the lights of Directus, Ustio’s capital. Only a little less than eighty miles away. It was going to be a hard fight.

A breeze ruffled her feathers.

She stepped into the range, feeling around on the wall for the light switch before flicking it on, the fluorescent lights blinking to life. It was a good size, five lanes, each with a pony-sized silhouette hung at each end, around 50 feet away. Standing at the center lane, she placed the weapon and it's accessories down on the table, the bullets clanking against the wood.

The M16.

She picked it up, spinning it around in her hooves. It was the main service rifle of all the Equestrian branches of the military, and countless other countries as well. It was dependable, easy to produce, and with its all-black finish, looked scary and powerful in the hooves of soldiers who wielded it.

Pulling a pair of dampening headphones over her ears, she placed the loaded magazine into the gun, clipping the second one onto her chest. She held it up to her shoulder, and, feeling it's weight in her hoof and the metal of the trigger on her skin, she closed her eyes.

In front of her, she formed an image. One of a pony. She could picture him clearly. She would have shuddered, but this time she was prepared. She barely even registered the first shot, the recoil unfelt and the sound muffled behind the earphones. But she saw the Stallion before her stagger, a bullet wound now square between his eyes. She growled.

She emptied the full 20 round magazine into the imaginary pony, before letting it fall from the gun. Before it had even hit the ground, another was in its place. The wasn’t flashy or spectacular, but it was quick and efficient, something needed in the middle of a firefight.

The last bullet casing fell to the floor with a clatter of brass. The weapon empty, she let it drop slightly. Letting it now hang at her side, she stepped up and called back the hanging target.

Forty holes, all in the face and body. She smiled. Good to see she hadn't gotten rusty.

From the outside, Pixy pulled back from the window, scowling. He had seen enough.

He watched his cloudy breath dissipate in the air. So, it was clear that what he had read from her file was true, though it was clear it didn’t hold the full story.

He turned and looked back at Rainbow. She had only shown up early that morning, and was instantly given an officers rank and command of her own small squadron. From what he had seen during today's mission, her flying clearly marked her as someone who had extensive experience flying, so she wasn’t some civilian flyer out here for the thrill. And the reload she had demonstrated was taught to special forces members.

But she had come from the Equestrian Air Force. It was clear Equestria would join the war any day now, they had been supporting ISAF since the beginning. So then why was she here, when she could have simply fought when her squadron was deployed?

She was running, he concluded.

He looked up towards the starry sky. What could she be possibly be running from that she had to leave Equestria and end up all the way out here?

He sighed and began to walk back towards the Sky Kid. Well, it's not like he could blame her.

They were all running out here.

Early Morning

As the early morning sun gently rose in the east, burning off some of the morning fog, a deep rumbling sound echoing off the mountains. Having been closed for the night, the thick, double blast doors began to creak open, the sound of rusty gears and unoiled joints were drowned out by a blaring alarm and flashing yellow lights. As the doors opened, early morning orange sunlight streamed into the darkened concrete hallway, replacing the dim industrial lights.

Rainbow Dash stood there, hoof covering her eyes as they struggled to adjust to the contrasting brightness of the underground. She blinked a few times, clearing her vision.

A thin layer of snow covered the ground, obscuring ground markings and reflecting the morning sun right into her unprepared eyes. Grimacing, she lifted the pair of tinted goggles around her neck to cover her eyes. Protected from glare, she was able to look over the ground, the base, and the mountains, taking in the scenery as she stood at the mouth of the tunnel.

The whole base was covered in snow, a thin layer of white fluff that kicked up a few loose flakes when she put her hoof in it. With the snow acting as a dampener, the only sound that could be heard was the distant wind, whipping through the mountains.

She spread her wings to her sides, flapping them a bit in the bitter mountain air, stretching them out and feeling the bitter breeze against her fur. She looked up into the orange glow of the morning sky, piercing through the mountaintops and distant scattered clouds. Her breath formed little clouds in front of her every time she breathed, dissipating away just a quickly. It was peaceful.

Her hooves dug into the snow as she dashed forward, sending small tuffs into the air in her wake, leaving hoofprints in the shallow snow. One last step and she kicked and leaped into the air, flapping her wings, tucking her hooves as close to herself as she could.

She simply glided for a moment, her wings still, propelled and kept in the air only by her short run. Barely inches above the ground, she weaved slowly back and forth. She kept her head pointed up toward the mountain peaks and the rising sun, scanning the sky.

It was mostly clear after yesterdays snowstorm, only a few sparse and distant clouds high in the sky. She twirled around, banking hard, her wingtips brushing against the snow. With one hard flap of her wings, she pushed herself faster through the air, dodging between poles and lights poking out of the ground. With another hard flap, she lifted herself higher off the ground, and only went higher with each flap and moving faster as well.

She sped up, pushing herself harder and faster, before going completely vertical and shooting straight up through the clouds, breaking through the thin layer and into the sunlight above. Rising above the height of the mountains, the sun appeared from where it had been hiding behind the rocks, light bouncing off the droplets in the air.

Spotting her first target, she pulled a quick barrel roll and spot off after it, closing rapidly and kicking out her front hooves, striking the poor, unsuspecting, and defenseless cloud with so much force that it exploded with a puff, ripping its body apart and scattering its wispy vapor remains to the wind, returning the cloud to the sky in which it came.

There were ten more, all floating nearby, and Rainbow quickly mapped out the quickest and most efficient route between them, and pulled a sharp turn after disposing of the first cloud, rocketing towards the next one and flying right through it, leaving a pegasus-shaped hole in her wake.

Having done this task every day for as far back as she could remember, it wasn’t even a chore anymore. It was simply routine to wake up before dawn and clear the skies each day. And it made her feel at home, relaxed, something comforting and familiar in this unfamiliar world she had entered.

There were five more clouds scattered across the mountains, and as she streaked across the sky, the water particles in the air scattered the light from the rising sun and forming a shimmering rainbow trail in her wake. She smashed each and every one, flapping harder and faster and pulling shorter and quicker turns, clearing the skies.

Finally, all that remained was one.

It was floating quite a distance away from the rest, barely a cloud at all, little more than a whisp. And it was high, much higher than the rest, a height that would turn most Pegasus away from attempting to reach it, or forcing them to take a long, spiraling path to reach it if they dared to attempt.

But Rainbow, not being most pegasuses, decided to take the more direct route. Already traveling at a blistering speed, she simply pitched up, rocketing straight up towards the cloud, flapping her wings as hard as she could. She coasted the rest of the distance, gravity slowing her down so she was almost hovering in the air by the time she reached the tiny cloud.

“Argh… damn.” She flopped onto the cloud, her wings sore and muscles strained. “What a workout, huh? She asked no one in particular, picking herself up off the damp, spongy ground that was a clouds surface.

Cloud walking was an ancient and uniquely Pegasus art, one that Twilight had attempted to explain to Rainbow many times after she had foolishly asked a long time ago. Something how their inner magic flows throughout their body in ways that other races don’t. The part where she started getting into souls and ley lines was where Rainbow had walked out.

But none of that really mattered.

Because before her and surrounding her lay not only the entire country of Ustio, but the continent of Usea, an entire part of the world that was foreign to her. Before the war, she had only stepped foot in Usea once, a Cutie Map friendship trip to Griffonstone that ended up with her meeting with an old Griffon friend. She was there only three days and never left the city.

Rainbow often wondered what happened to her when the sky fell.

She could see for quite a distance from up here. Visibility was excellent. Seas, lakes, rivers, forests, mountains, farmland.

She could see the whole country and beyond. Back home she couldn’t even see to Manehattan from this height. Canterlot peak only on a clear day.

Shaking her head to clear away the thoughts of home, she instead took a moment to get her bearings with the landmarks. There had been no time for sightseeing on the way in.

Looking north, the highest peaks of the Waiapolo Mountains were visible through the clouds, and the city of Directus just off to the right, sunlight glinting off the river. To the east, Comberth and Expo City, sitting on the coast. To the west, the dense rainforests of Chopinburg. And to the south, more mountains, and what remains of the ISAF forces on Usea, scattered and holed up in the mountains.

It almost seemed peaceful from up here. Almost.

A pillar of smoke rose from the ground. Small flashes of light from distant explosions could still be seen. And high above her head, contrails still twisted and danced in high altitude dogfights.

At this height, Directus seemed like only a short hop away. Like you could reach out and touch it. But most of the entire Griffon army was between them, and, judging from what she had heard about the Griffons, it would be a long fight to get there.

The high altitude wind had slowly begun to seep into her jacket, causing her to start shivering despite the lavers. Looking down at the base below, from here the buildings and runways looked like model toys, small enough to step on and squash with a flick of her hoof. A small vehicle rolled across the snow, headlights lighting up in front of it, leaving tracks in the snow.

She took one step forward. Her hoof met nothing but air, and she plummeted towards the ground like a rock. Adjusting herself in the air, she made a quick descent, sticking out her wings slightly to give herself some semblance of control. She flew straight down, wind whipping past at blistering speed. A distinct and bright rainbow trail appeared behind her, following her down. She was so close, if only she could go fast enough... no. Not enough height, and the concrete was closing fast.

She flared her wings, coming to a soft touchdown just outside the command building. The base was awake now, creatures of all shapes and sizes coming out of the buildings and shadows. Most appeared drowsy, the air raid sirens going off twice last night as Griffon fighters made high speed passes over the base, coupled with an early morning.

She glanced at the watch around her hoof. Eight minutes to Seven.

She spotted Sanka tearing up the snow on her Kettenkrad. They waved to each other as she passed, a trailer loaded with ordnance attached to the back.

She checked her watch again. Five minutes to Seven. Time to get going.

“Alright everyone, listen up!” Saki stood at the front of the room, looking over the assembled faces, most who looked back with drowsy and half awake expressions. Rainbow sat next to Pixy, who had arrived here before and was sitting there, head back, silently snoring.

The screen flashed to life, a soft blue light flooding the darkened room. Several messages and logos flashed across the screen, most simply too fast to read as the system booted up.

I.S.A.F. T.C. SYSTEM
VERSION 4.03
...NOW LOADING

The ISAF logo covered the screen as everyone returned to their seats, the room going quiet, all attention to the screen. The information being presented was of utmost importance. You missed a detail, and you could find yourself dead in the blink of an eye.

A map of Usea replaced the logo, every single detail of the continent visible, every major town, road, rail line, and country border, and outlying island. An ugly red was plastered all over the map, covering most of the continent, from the east to the west, the only areas in blue the few provinces to the south and the large north-eastern island that was North Point.

“Now, before we begin…” Now wielding a laser pointer, Saki gestured towards Rainbow. “We have a new pilot joining our ranks, although I’m sure most of you have met her by now. Regardless, this is her formal introduction to the group. Her callsign is Prism, and she’s already proven herself by shooting down a couple bombers yesterday. So give her a warm welcome. Or, if not, just be glad that there’s another missile target.”

Rainbow watched as most of the faces in the room glanced in her direction. All were familiar, except one. A griffon, entirely grey, almost blending into the wall of the dark room. His yellow eyes stared at her for a moment, before returning to the board.

“Now that that’s done... Let's get started.” The map zoomed in towards a location marked only a few hundred miles north of their airbase. An orange dot marked their mission target, a thin dotted line marking their inbound and outbound flight paths.

“This is Rigley Air Base.” He gestured to the image that had been brought up. “One of the largest airfields this side of the Walapolo Mountains. As I’m sure you’re all aware, most of ISAF has been driven back to the island of North Point. The Griffons have been building up their forces to the north of the continent for a full-scale strike and invasion of our GHQ and forces there. This includes amassing a large fleet of bombers and fighters at various airfields along the coast. However, their recent successes have made them cocky and they’ve let their guard down. Which is good news for us because if they weren’t so sure they could kill North Point, they’d have focused on securing the south, and us along with it. Which brings us back to Rigley.”

Pictures of the surrounding areas were brought up, showing roads, forests, the nearby town, as well of several showing the base defenses and rows of bombers parked in neat rows. “Rigley is one of the main staging areas for their bomber fleet. Taking out the bombers here would deal a serious blow to their striking power against us and likely cause them to put their invasion plans on hold for some time. Plus, we have confirmation that one of the squadrons stationed at Rigley is the same one that has been pestering us over the past several weeks, so I’m sure all of you will be happy to get some revenge for those guys keeping you up at night. Eagle, you’re up.”

The grey Griffon who Rainbow had spotted before stood and made his way to the front of the room, taking the pointer from Saki, and speaking, to Rainbow’s complete and utter surprise, in a heavy Equestrian accent. “The airfield is located around three hundred miles north of our location. Due to the SAM emplacements and fighter patrols along the front lines, in and outbound altitude is going to be restricted to under a thousand feet. The airfield is surrounded by a ring of SAMs and radar guided AA guns. However, we’ve noticed a huge weak point in the design of the base, a rather big oversight.” He pointed to a string of power lines that ran near the base. “These power lines directly power the base. While they do have generators, the moment the power gets cut, it will take a moment for each of their systems to reboot, giving us vital seconds to knock out their defenses before the main attack. Destroying the power substation here…” He pointed. “...will give us that time. After takeoff, we will follow the Tyrann Mountains north…”

Rainbow had stopped listening. Leaning over, she whispered to her wingman. “Hey, Pixy, who’s the Griffon?”

Opening one eye, he glanced up at who was talking. “Him? Oh, his name’s Roost. He’s our representative to ISAF. Basically the guy in charge of giving us orders. He’s also our AWACs.”

“Then what does Saki do?”

“He’s only the base commander. Roost is above him, but they basically do the same job.”

Rainbow grunted. “Things weren't this complicated back in Cloudsdale…”

“Cloudsdale?”

“...Forget I said anything.”

Pixy smirked. “Cloudsdale Air Force Base I presume? Former EAF huh?”

“I said forget it.”

“Fine then. Keep your secrets. No one cares here anyway.”

Rainbow cast a confused glance to the Griffon, who had returned to the pose he had been in. She sighed, silently reprimanding herself on letting that little fact slip.