Fizzlepop Berrytwist. Ponies call her that now, thanks to a certain pink goofball.
The tall mare stands surrounded, a hundred stallions in golden armor armed for war, a hundred snarls up at her. Each and every one prepared to destroy all that she is. She opens her eyes, surveys the scene, and allows herself a small smirk. Clad in only her bodysuit and unmarked armor, she looks down upon the army of fools, standing over a small purple doll.
“Afraid?” Her voice is a calm snarl, confidence turning simple words into accusations of cowardice. They hesitate, watching her lower herself. Hinds spread wide, one foreleg in front of her, the other raised to her chest. Silence before the storm. “You should be. You remember what happens to those who get in my way.”
The first charges, just behind her, spear raised in a lethal course. Fizzlepop drops, hinds swinging out, catching his forelegs out from under him. As he falls she continues to twist, spear caught from his grasp by a kick, spinning in the air. Her twist terminates in a vault, and the spear comes to rest between her forelegs. Hind legs slam opposite his head, spear buried in the ground below him. Tempest Shadow allows herself a soft chuckle as the horde descends, the elation of a proper battle finally filling her again.
Tempest twists, ripping the blood splattered spear from the ground and unleashing it in a mortal arc. Before the unlucky pair can fall she’s already moving, low and fast, foreleg denting golden steel in a vicious jab. The stallion isn’t allowed to fall, forelegs wrapping around his crushed throat, hip tossed into the crowd. Like lightning she’s gone. Vaulting over a spear, spinning in midair, hinds snapping out to slam one guard into the ground and shatter another’s jaw. She lands atop a third, rolling him onto her back to catch the brace of javelins launched her way. Hinds brace, muscles flex, and his body crashes into the guards before her with bone shattering force.
A spear glances off her shoulder plate, caught and ripped from its owner’s grasp. Twisting, sweeping, a dance of wood and steel battering away jabs and returning slashes across faces and legs. Caught on her hinds, spear behind her between her forelegs. Ducking a javelin, forelegs flexing to snap the fire hardened ash against her spine. The javelin is repaid with her own makeshift and interest.
She vaults one stallion’s back, catching him off the back swing of his hammer, hoof denting his helmet as she goes. Half a dozen spheres fly into the air from her armor, and she lands atop a particularly unlucky guard. He goes still, a sickening crack echoing over the carnage. She slows, looking out over the pockets of standing guards stumbling over their fallen fellows. And once again she’s surrounded, the eye of the storm. An eye darts up, gauging time. And she smirks. “Thank you for the… Disappointing evening, but we’re done here.”
The guards glance between each other, and charge.
Tempest rolls her shoulders, reveling in the loose burn of exertion, and moves. Her forelegs brace between a pair of still guards, body swinging up and around. Tink A flash of gray collides with her hoof, lancing into the squad of soldiers before her. Still moving, landing from the swing, carrying the momentum into a hoofspring. TINK A second flash, metal striking metal and darting out like a small bird in flight. Hooves crack the sun-baked dirt, bouncing from landing to forward roll, coming up in a high vault to fly into the air. TINK Her foreleg comes up and down, spiking the little metal sphere into a third squad. An eye glances up, ignoring the eruption of flame and scattered bodies to her left. She lands atop a guard, sending him sprawling, catching the metal sphere in her hoof and manually pulling the tiny pin with her teeth. TINK Off again, through a thicket of spears. Tempest rolls, spinning around a braced hoof to change direction, hoof coming up to kick the tiny grenade high into the air. TINK One heartbeat. THOOM!!!. Second heartbeat. THOOM!!!. She charges back the way she came before the third. The last apple sized grenade reaches the apex of its flight. A pegasus tries to flee doom, and becomes a stepping stone. She leaps off his head, sending him careening into the ground atop his squad's grenade. Twenty feet in the air her horn ignites in a blaze of raw magical fury. Wrapped around her forehoof, pulled back to strike, it latches to the grenade as she punches it into the last remaining guard. KZZTINK It collides with his face and immediately explodes in a massive blast of blue and red, discharge roiling through the carpet of bodies, jumping from armor to armor.
Tempest lands hard, rolling forward and stopping herself with her hind legs spread and a single foreleg against the ground. She waits in the field of bodies, right where she began. And finally lets out the breath she had been holding. “Done. Time?” A glance down, the doll completely touched by the mayhem.
A purple alicorn phases into existence in front of her, glancing down and skittering back to an spot free of carnage. She looks up at her friend, and smiles, levitating a stopwatch next to her. “One minute, twenty five point five three seconds! You beat your record by twenty seconds!” The alicorn looks to the bodies and frowns, overglow sheathing her horn. The field hazes out, melting into a large crystal room. “I’m glad you’re improving, but don’t you think fighting royal guards is a little extreme Fizzlepop? Even if they are illusions from your training room.”
Fizzlepop Berrytwist seems to ignore her, focusing on a bottle of water across the room. A death glare, as if she intends to do to the bottle what she just did to the training shades. Her horn sparks, similar to the crackling haze around the water bottle, making it shake and tremble as barely direct magical energy roils through it. With a gasp for breath Tempest shakes her head, walking over to fetch it by hoof. She looks back at Twilight, and for once her eyes bear respect rather than disdain. “If I’m going to be your guard, I need to be ready for anything. Even hostile ponies." Humor colors her expression, an oddity for those new to her presence. "Its called a Danger Room, ask Spike.”
Twilight's eyes trail over Fizzlepop's sweat and armor covered body as her head tilts back, downing half the bottle of water at a measured pace. Even once it drops she has to take a moment to clear her thoughts, smiling as she closes the distance. “Well… Okay then. I understand Fizzy. Though you know, we’re going to be late for the surprise Congratulations-On-Finding-a-Secret-Marefriend party Pinkie’s throwing for you. You don’t want to be late for that, do you?”
Fizzlepop’s response is more than Twilight had expected, and just enough to get her to stop talking. Soon they’re walking out of the castle, side by side. Emblazoned proudly on Tempest’s flank plates are purple stars surrounded by five smaller emblems. Ponies stare, or wave, or smile, but Twilight is all that’s in Fizzlepop’s eye. A bad habit she'll have to overcome if she's to perform her duties, she muses. The alicorn waves to her friends at the Cake’s Bakery, and Fizzlepop gives what’s swiftly becoming her trademark embarrassed smile. Sometimes, maybe, Friendship really is Magic.
But Magic will need her Hurricane one day. And on that day she will be ready. Captain Fizzlepop Berrytwist chose her new name for a reason, but it has taken on a whole new meaning since the night she truly met Twilight Sparkle.
