Author's Note

Special thanks once again to Scholary-Cimmerian for another OC, the OC being Cast Iron! Thanks so much for helping me out!

And thank you all for your patience, I am so sorry for the long wait, I hope this was worth it. Enjoy!

Cast Iron

Sunday

The Canterlot Tapper was the biggest tavern to be built in Canterlot. Its service was great, its entertainment was massively entertaining, and the unlimited supply of alcohol quenched the thirst of every man and woman around. But it also got a bad reputation to be a meeting place for a lot of 'lower' people. Specifically thugs and hardcore criminals.

And it just so happened to be the place where Spitfire, Soarin, and Fleetfoot decided to have a meet. Now, none of the other Wonderbolts tagged along as they didn't want to go to a place where their presence would be known, but they also brought up the argument that if all of them were seen together, the chances of their discovery would be found in an instant.

So with a few quick disguises, the three of them made it in without a worry. The three of them sat at a table, kicking back and relaxing with a few cold drinks.

"Spitfire, remind me again, why are we in a place where our mere presence can be noticed?" Fleetfoot asked, under the mask. She hadn't taken it off since their departure from prison.

"Because, my suddenly short companion, Cast Iron agreed to meet us here. Why he suddenly bailed when you released him from his prison, I don't understand..."

"He said he wanted to hide while I gave my report. Why here of all places he chooses to meet, I'll never understand..." Fleetfoot grumbled.

"Easy, sister. I'm sure Cast Iron had his reasons. Now, as to where he is..."

Soarin leaned over, gazing into a corner booth.

"Spitfire. Found him."

Spitfire and Fleetfoot gazed their heads over to the corner booth to the man in his thirties sitting in silence. A small fedora hat with a big brim, casting a dark shadow over his face, disclosing his features. The shadows of Spitfire, Soarin, and Fleetfoot made the man tip his hat up to get a closer look, and revealing his identity.

A man with a visible scar on his right cheek turned his view towards the rogue commander before him. A small tattoo of a dragon swirling around his eye was also visible, with a grimace of a smile.

"Spitfire. Its been a while," the man replied.

"Cast Iron. I'm happy to see you've made your escape. Now perhaps you can explain as to why we are meeting in a public place? You know how I--"

"--Yes, yes, I know, you prefer if your face wasn't in public eye..." Cast Iron replied, nonchalantly. "But I am rather curious as to what's become of these two. Certainly have gone through some new changes. Soarin, you're looking much more skinny the last time we met, and it appears Fleetfoot shrunk a few inches. And for some reason is now picking masks as a new fashion wear."

Fleetfoot still didn't respond, her breathing audible under the mask.

"And you sound like an evil overload," Cast deadpanned.

"You can thank that Moon Dancer brat for this," Fleetfoot hissed. "She did a number on my face."

Cast smirked. "I see."

"Anyways," Spitfire said, "Perhaps you can explain why you wanted us to meet here?"

"I wanted us to have a private chat, away from the rest of your Wonderbolt teammates. I prefer they not see us do business in their eyes."

Soarin shook his head with a disturbed look, "Just of note, be careful of how you phrase things because that sounded wrong."

Cast groaned. "Fine. The point I'm making is, I wanted to talk to you in private."

"In a bar where chances of us being found are higher than likely?" Spitfire deadpanned.

The Japanese man smirked. "Because I thrill for danger. Being in a place where the chances of being caught are high is what keeps every fiber of my being alive."

"As usual," Spitfire replied.

"Right. Anyways, lets get down to business. I am appreciative of your comrade breaking me out. And I'm even more surprised to see her new method. Mind control, hmm... something I never thought you would be a master at," the man said, looking at Fleetfoot.

Fleetfoot didn't say a word.

"Now tell me Spitfire. What plan do you have this time? What big plan are we going to enact next?"

Spitfire smirked. "I'm glad you asked. We're going to remind all of Canterlot who's truly in charge... and who true heroes are."

Cast Iron raised a brow.

"What's your definition of true heroes?"

Spitfire blinked under her sunglasses.

"True heroes... are what the Wonderbolts are. Risking life and limb in a harsh environment where chances of death are 100%. True heroes are those who stay alive during 10 long and painful years... and don't die."

Spitfire didn't say anything else, and her face drew a blank. The three people at her table looked at her face with some concern.

"Um, boss? You okay?"

Spitfire still blanked. Her mind closed all of the sounds in the busy bar, and the patrons that were simply eating. She only heard the sounds in her head, which all repeated back to her. Sounds of an engine failing, the cries of terror echoing through the air. Explosions, sounds of destruction, the ongoing fire of machine guns jiggling in her hands. She remembered crying... but then it all vanished.

"Spitfire?"

Spitfire shook her head, waking up.

"Yes, what?"

"Our waiter's here?" Soarin' said, gesturing the waiter who was standing near.

"Oh, right, sorry. I'll just take a basket of fries," Spitfire said to the waiter.

"Make that two," Fleetfoot added.

"And for you sir?"

"I'll just take some chicken wings," Soarin replied.

"Okay. A-And for you... s-s-sir?" the waiter suddenly shivered, looking at Cast Iron.

Cast Iron smirked, noting his fear.

"A simple American cheeseburger is all I desire," he replied, "And please, do everyone in this restaurant a favor, and don't screw it up."

The waiter shivered with a slow nod, walking away with the tray clattering and wobbling.

"So..." Soarin said, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Right, you were saying?"

"Anyways, I had a new plan in store. I'm sure you're well aware of Canterlot's newest 'heroes' correct?" Spitfire asked.

The man nodded. "I do. A team without a name, I might add."

"Right. Anyways, I had a plan in store to put them out... for good. The city looks up to them like they were sent down from god. They think because a few teenagers with some gadgets and costumes that they're automatically safe. They're never truly safe. They believe they can sit back and watch while these kids do all the hardwork, and so the world can steal from the all the while... they're not heroes. These people live in a fantasy. And they need a cold drink of reality to wake them up..." Spitfire spat.

Cast Iron nodded. "So you want me to help you kill a few teenagers? Sounds simple enough."

"It won't be. Don't underestimate these children, they've shown themselves to be a lot stronger than we're imagining," Spitfire sternly said.

"I'm sure they're not--HEY!" Cast Iron shouted staring at another table. "What do you think you're staring at!?"

"N-Nothing, I swear--"

Politely, he stepped out of his seat in the booth. "Excuse me for a moment."

Spitfire and the other two Wonderbolts just sat idly while Cast stepped away. They didn't get to see, but they could hear Cast screaming and yelling like a madman. They listened as glass and plates shattered against the floor, the walls, and his foot slamming against the table they were eating.

Spitfire had no visible reaction, but Soarin and Fleetfoot were visibly afraid, shown by them cowering in their seats. It was hard to see, but Fleetfoot was scared under her mask.

The Japanese man sat back down at the table, next to a quivering Soarin.

"Sorry about that. Anyways, what were we discussing?" Cast asked.

"My plan."

"Right, right, continue," Cast said, gesturing her to continue.

"Anyways, so I'm hereby requesting you to come back adn join us, as we finally seize control of Canterlot once again."

The Japanese man gave a smirk, interested in Spitfire's proposition.

"I'm liking what I'm hearing, Spitfire. But I must ask, will I have to work with River Stone again?"

"No. River Stone bailed," Spitfire replied, politely. "But I am not known for pressuring my old teammates into coming back into their old jobs."

"Very well... of course, you understand the only reason I'm interested is because I get to make some kills..." Cast Iron grimaced.

"Of course," Spitfire nodded.

Soarin and Fleetfoot didn't say a word, the two of them just stayed out of their conversation.

"Now I--" Cast Iron stopped again, looking at a couple who were staring at them. "--Excuse me. WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT!?"

The man violently got up from the table and stomped over to theirs who were very terrified. With zero warning, he yanked the tablecloth off the table, perfectly with the flowers still standing. At first the couple were confused, but then Cast Iron grabbed one end of the table and pushed it up, flipping it around and landing it on its table top. The couple screamed, seeing the mad man flipping the table on them from out of nowhere, but they did not dare say another word to his seething face.

He sat down at the table again, and once again, looking unfazed.

"So how do we plan to execute your mission?" Cast Iron asked.

"With no more interruptions..." Spitfire groaned, "Here's what we'll do. We need to take down those girls. We'll still need to free some more of our friends, but we'll have to keep them off our backs. When everyone's back, we'll take them down. But it's not going to end there..."

The three people next to her gathered closer.

"Because of our new-found superpowers, we're going to unleash them upon them. They may have ninja weapons, baking supplies, 1980s pop culture, whatever. They don't have superpowers, like me and Fleetfoot. They're just children. They aren't be underestimated, but in the end... without their weapons, without their gadgets... they're nothing more than just a bunch of children, posing as heroes."

Everyone nodded.

"Very well then, Spitfire. I think I'll help you. Just promise me, I'll get to slice and dice those kids..."

Spitfire sternly stared into Cast's snake eyes. "There will be examples made, but we will not be slicing them up."

Cast scowled. "Fine. But you better--"

"--I know, Cast. I know..." Spitfire said, sitting back in her chair.

The waiter came by, carefully setting down the baskets of food for everyone. And his hands shook like a leaf as he tried to set Cast's cheeseburger down for him.

"Quit shaking," Cast sneered.

"I-I'm very sorry sir, I don't know what's happening to me..."

He dropped the plate down, still keeping the burger intact. But the tray holding the drinks fell and shattered onto the floor beside their table, with a loud bang.

"Oh! Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry sir, please--"

Cast was about to get up until Spitfire put her hand on his chest. "No more, Cast."

Cast Iron wanted to say no and just grab that man and smash his face in with a wine bottle. But any more incidents, and they would get kicked out. Now, they should have been kicked out already since Cast had created two incidents already, disturbing patrons and destroying property of the facilities was already breaking several rules. But the staff were very terrified of Cast Iron, and knowing his history, if they dared tried to call the police, everyone would have been dead immediately. Cast Iron was like a ticking time bomb, one wrong move and then everyone was dead.

"Fine. Get us new drinks, and make it snappy," Cast snapped.

"Y-Yes sir, right away sir!"

The waiter scurried away, leaving them alone.

"So, quick recap. Find our troops, hunt down those children... and we'll make it public. To truly make the city fear us, they need to witness their demise," Spitfire grimaced at her friends. "They'll understand what happens when you try to mess with our team, and when you cross our path."

Soarin for once felt a little at ease, and both he and Cast shared a grin.

"Good, very good..." Cast hissed.

"But you know they'll be after us, correct?"

"Maybe so. But I have a feeling they won't be on us when we make our strike tomorrow. I heard rumors from a few low-life crooks that they're planning on making a heist. A shipping truck containing rare artifacts comes in tomorrow, transferring its goods into the Canterlot Museum Of History. Only the truck won't be stopping at the museum... our low crooks will be stealing it and making off with its goods. Which will only make our 'heroes' want to stop them. And after all, how they can be in two places at once..."