Machina Cor Armageddon

“We’re here,” Fleetfoot said, looking through a hole in the hull. “This is the prison. We need to figure out where the others are and meet up with them, then we’ll take out the conversion room and rescue anypony here.”

“Where’s the rest of the ship?!” Vapor Trail gasped. The entire front half of the airship was simply gone, the aft end groaning as it tried to settle, beams still cracking under the strain.

“Hopefully in better condition than we are,” Lightning Dust said. “I don’t think we’re sailing out of here.”

“That’s fine,” Fleetfoot said. “We’re the Wonderbolts! We can fly back on our own. Flare, how’s the kid?”

“She’s fine,” Stormy Flare said. “Just a little scraped up.”

“Good, because we need to move,” Fleetfoot said. “The roof collapsed on top of us when we crashed. I don’t want to end up buried alive.”

“I’ll second that,” Dust said. “That way clear?” She nodded to the hole.

“Looks clear,” Fleetfoot said.

A crossbow bolt went through her mane and stuck in the deck next to Vapor Trail, vibrating.

“Though I have been wrong from time to time,” Fleetfoot admitted, taking cover as a volley of bolts hit the remains of the Velocitas Veritas and managed to wound no one.

“They’ve got terrible aim,” Scootaloo said, trying to sound brave.

“They don’t need to hit us, they just need to keep us from going anywhere,” Lightning Dust said. She grabbed a crate and flew out, using it as a shield, catching a few bolts before throwing it at the ragged ranks opposing them.

“Move!” Fleetfoot yelled. Stormy Flare took off with Scootaloo hanging onto her back. Vapor Trail hesitated until Fleetfoot shoved her. “I said move!”

“But what if Sky Stinger--”

“Worry about him after we’re done being shot at!” Fleetfoot yelled.

Dust tore into the line of troops, breaking their lines like a living cannonball. Fleetfoot took one flank while they were distracted, hitting the ponies holding crossbows before they could reload.

Stormy Flare stopped, not even trying to stop the enemy as the other flank fired on Lightning Dust, three of the crossbow bolts striking true.

Dust cried out in pain, turning and spreading her wings, electricity crackling from the edges as she threw herself at the rest of the soldiers, the pegasus’ whole body glowing with a corona of electricity.

“Holy Sunlight,” Fleetfoot muttered. “When did you learn to do that?!” She kicked one of the soldiers that was starting to wake up, knocking him back out.

“I picked up a few tricks at my new job,” Lightning Dust said, tearing the bolts free with her teeth.

“Hold on, we need to get a medic to--” Fleetfoot said. “Or you can just rip them out, sure.”

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Scootaloo asked.

“I don’t have time to hurt,” Lightning Dust said. “Besides, they weren’t that deep. All I need is a little spit to wipe away a scratch like that.”

“Weren’t that deep my flank,” Stormy Flare muttered.

“These weren’t Empire soldiers,” Vapor Trail said, quietly. “Look at them. They’re just normal ponies!”

“What in Tartarus was going on here?” Lightning Dust asked, lifting one of them up to look at his ragged prison uniform, patched with bits and pieces of armor and trash. When he started to stir, she swung him like a club into the wall a few times until he stopped moving.

“Dark magic,” Fleetfoot said, dismissively.

Dust bit back a complaint, just following Fleetfoot down the hallway.

“Why is all the furniture out here?” Stormy Flare asked. Most of it was broken, but enough remained that they had to fly over some of it, the older mare still carrying Scootaloo.

“Barricades,” Lightning Dust said. “Look at how it's stacked.”

“The prisoners and guards must have been trying to keep Sombra out,” Fleetfoot guessed. “We don’t have great intel about the exact sequence of events. Maybe this was one of the last holdouts?”

“Were they even being controlled?” Vapor Trail asked, quietly.

“Yes,” Dust said. “I could feel it.”

“You could feel it?” Scootaloo asked.

“Cut the chatter,” Fleetfoot said, holding up a hoof. “We got something.”

They flew out into what had been a prison block, a large common area surrounded by cells, half of the room filled with rain thanks to the roof collapsing.

“Don’t look,” Stormy Flare said, trying to cover Scootaloo’s eyes.

She’d spotted what was at the bottom of the common area. Ditches, filled with bones.

“Must be hundreds of them,” Lightning Dust guessed. “I thought they were converting ponies into soldiers here?” She looked at a pile of shattered crystal and stained tables covered in tarnished surgical tools.

“They were,” Fleetfoot said. “Look! There’s a bunch of armor over there!” She pointed. The armor was sitting in the rain, rusted and weatherbeaten. Fleetfoot landed as the weight of the glares on her quickly outpaced the strength of her wings. “Being candid, my information isn’t exactly… fresh.”

“How out of date is it?” Dust asked. “Months? This is old, and it looks more like he was doing surgery...”

“You can measure it in months,” Fleetfoot said. “If, uh, you use a couple dozen of them.”

“Years?!” Vapor Trail squeaked.

“Wind Rider got kicked out of the EIS and this was the best he could get me!” Fleetfoot yelled. “This is his chance to redeem himself, too!”

“This is even more feathered than the crap Doctor Sparkle feeds me,” Dust growled, throwing her forehooves up to gesture to the prison. Just as she did, a flash of light illuminated something outside.

“What was that?” Vapor Trail asked.

“Something to put us back into business,” Fleetfoot said, grinning.

“Faster!” Fire Streak urged, pushing Sky Stinger.

“I think I sprained something in the fall!” Sky Stinger yelled. “I can’t fly right!”

A spray of magical energy like a storm of sparks flashed past them.

“Hurry!” Adamant yelled. “It’s not very sporting to fire at unarmed opponents but nothing else seems to motivate you! I want to have a little fun before the hunt ends!”

The basement or dungeon or whatever it was was like a maze, and the further the Wonderbolts ran through it, the less sure of where they were.

“We should have stayed in the big room! We could have gone out the top!” Sky Stinger hissed.

“That’s easy for you to say!” Wind Rider screamed. “You have two working wings!”

“I think we lost him,” Fire Streak said, looking back at the empty corridor behind them. The ponies slowed, keeping their ears open, though it was hard to hear through the water busily working its way through the cracked foundation.

“The kid was right about one thing,” Wind Rider whispered, leaning closer to Fire Streak. “We need to find a way outside.”

“He might have been right about that big room, too,” Fire Streak said, quietly. “It’s the only way up we’ve seen so far, and that monster has been chasing us away from it. We need to get past whatever it is and then fly out. One of us can carry you. If we’re careful maybe it won’t even know we doubled back.”

There was a berserk cry from further into the twisting, dark corridors. All three pegasi jumped, paling as ponies in patchwork armor and carrying knives of scrap metal galloped towards them, their eyes burning like coals.

The wall next to the berserk ponies exploded, a crystal-crowned head breaking through and blasting them apart with a storm of magic.

“You better hurry up, or I’m going to have to kill you!” The giant monster started pushing through the wall, and the ponies ran, terror filling them.

“I’ve seen this before,” Fleetfoot said. “Lightning cannon. It’s how Sombra was keeping the airship fleet from just dropping soldiers right into the middle of his empire.”

The contraption was like a telescope made of crystals and metal, standing out in the rain with mind-controlled ponies slowly walking in circles around it. The platform it stood on had once been a landing zone for secure sky-wagons, but dark crystal battlements had transformed it into its own tiny fortress on top of the prison.

“Those things there--” Fleetfoot pointed at something, a half-circle of something between ancient monoliths and aquariums, standing stones of crystal filled with bubbling, hissing fluid. “They power the cannon. I bet this thing is how they shot down my ship.”

“We’ll need to take it out to leave?” Stormy Flare asked.

“Unless you want to risk them shooting us down,” Fleetfoot said. “I don't think they're just going to wave goodbye.”

“We’ll take it down,” Dust decided. “Then once we find the others we can get out of this Tartarus pit. Go over the mountains like in the original plan.”

“We aren’t just going to bail,” Fleetfoot protested. “We can still salvage this!”

“There’s nothing to salvage!” Dust hissed. “There’s no mission!”

Before Fleetfoot could protest, Lightning Dust flew out into the storm.

“There are a half-dozen ponies out there!” Vapor Trail gasped.

“More like eight,” Fleetfoot said. “I spotted a couple extra on the far tower past the cannon.”

“We need to help,” Vapor Trail said. “At least try to even the odds!”

The brick wall next to the doorway cracked. Fleetfoot risked sticking her head outside to look. One of the guards had been thrown so hard he’d been embedded in the masonry.

“She’ll be fine,” Fleetfoot said. “Whatever the hell she is.”

“Which way do we go?” Sky Stinger asked.

“We’ve been here before,” Wind Rider said, pointing to a feather in the mud. “That’s from my wing. Losing my damn coverts with it flapping around.”

“We’ll get it taken care of,” Fire Streak assured him. “We just need to find the way back out. Remember the Wonderbolt code. Rule Two -- stick together.”

The floor shook.

“He’s coming,” Sky Stinger hissed.

Wind Rider limped to one of the doorways. “I have an idea. You’ll need to hear me out on this.” He bucked the wall, wincing in pain, breaking a chain loose from the wall. With a squeal of rusted metal forced into motion by gravity, a portcullis slammed down between him and the others.

“What are you doing?” Fire Streak asked.

“Rule two was meant to be broken,” Wind Rider said, smiling.

“You can’t hold him off by yourself,” Sky Stinger whispered.

“He doesn’t have to. That thing is on our side of that gate,” Fire Streak growled.

“Unfortunately,” Wind Rider agreed, nodding. “I’m really sorry about this.” His ears twitched as the hoofsteps got closer. “Sorry. I just-- I can’t die here. Not in a place like this. I’m a hero, not a pony that dies in some dark hole!”

“You can’t do this!” Sky Stinger grabbed the bars, trying to move them.

“Sorry,” Wind Rider repeated, scuttling away in the darkness and around a corner.

“What are we going to do?” Sky Stinger asked, holding onto the metal for support. “That probably was the way out…”

“I don’t think so,” Fire Streak said. “Spread your wings. There’s a breeze coming from this way.” He fanned his feathers out.

“So-- so that’s the right way?” Sky asked.

“Probably. You need to go, as fast as you can, and find the others. That’s rule three -- if you get split up, find the rest of your team.” Fire Streak patted Sky’s shoulder. “I’m gonna buy you time. I’ll catch up when I can.”

“But you’ll catch up, right?” Sky Stinger asked.

Fire Streak was silent for a moment, weighing the question. “I’m gonna teach this monster a lesson about how a Wonderbolt fights.”

“But--”

“Get out of here, kid,” Fire Streak said, pushing him to get him moving. He watched him go, even as the footsteps came up right behind him and stopped, hot breath on his neck.

The Cloudsdale Incident remains the stuff of legend. Or more accurately, it remains the stuff of conspiracy theories.

According to witnesses at the time of the incident, unknown ponies of extraordinary power fought in the skies after emerging from something between the eye of a hurricane and a glowing doorway. Unfortunately, most of these witnesses were foals, and their testimony, while remarkably consistent for ponies of their age, is suspect.

One detail that all the ponies agreed on was that one of the two unknown assailants was an alicorn, and not one of the Princesses - not even the at-the-time largely unknown Princess Cadance.

The official report on the incident calls it mass hysteria. Why Princess Celestia was required to investigate mass hysteria in person and why the official reports of the additional investigating magi have been sealed are left to the imagination of the reader.

Wind Rider tried to move quietly, despite the pain insisting he either lie down and whimper in a corner or scream with every motion. The edge of his wing was dragging along the floor and part of him was sure that meant tendons were severed and he was as likely to fly again as the average unicorn. He tried not to think about it. He just had to get out and then he could fix things. Make up a big story about how he sacrificed himself trying to save the others and come back a hero and wear that limp wing like a badge of honor all the way to a high-ranking position whispering in Celestia’s ear.

It was what he deserved.

What he definitely didn’t deserve was to be wandering around in the bowels of a place that had to be closer to Tartarus than anywhere else on the planet.

Flickering light caught his attention, and his hope surged. Anything was better than the dark.

He pushed open a heavy wooden door, the timbers half-rotten from the damp, and stumbled as a wall of heat washed over him, like he was walking into an oven. Smoke filled his lungs, and he had to suppress a cough, holding a forehoof over his snout as he looked in with bleary eyes, looking for details in a haze of smoke and dim light.

“What in Celestia’s name…?” He whispered and walked in.

An altar held a bonfire of prison debris, and torches lined the walls. Candles, oil lamps, anything that would burn, all of it was piled up and lit, like the whole room was on fire, all under one central image, a statue of crystal hung overhead by chains, the flames around the room reflecting from it like it, too, was burning.

“All of it is in her name,” said a voice from the darkness behind Wind Rider. He started to turn and was kicked in the side, falling and landing on his broken wing, crying out in pain.

The older pegasus gasped and looked up, right into that statue’s face. A twisted version of Celestia’s serene smile, warped into a mad, pyromaniacal grin.

“I begged for her to come and keep Sombra from doing this,” Adamant said. “She gave me the strength! The strength to fight his control!”

“You’re insane!” Wind Rider gasped.

“For a time I thought she abandoned me, but now I see so clearly. She tests us! Only in the greatest darkness do we really appreciate the light!” The huge pony stepped over Wind Rider. “And she sent you to me.”

“If-- if you let me go, I’ll talk to her for you!” Wind Rider offered. “We’re good friends! I work for her personally!”

Adamant’s face twisted into a scowl. “Good friends?! You’re nothing! Nothing to her! Nothing to me! No cowardly friend is anything, compared to family.”

Wind Rider started to make another offer, but before the lie could leave his lips, a huge hoof slammed down on his ribs, snapping them like dry twigs.

“Vapor Trail!”

Vapor Trail flew higher, looking over the wall, her heart soaring. She could just make him out through the petering remains of the storm, the rain slowing and thunder only a distant rumble.

“Sky Stinger!” She cried out, waving. “You’re okay!”

“I’m not okay,” Sky Stinger said, struggling as a sudden gust almost carried him away. Vapor Trail flew out to pull him back to the wall and the limited cover it provided.

“Are you hurt? How did you find us?” Vapor Trail asked.

“I think everypony else is dead,” Sky Stinger whispered. “And, um, I just followed the explosions.”

He looked to the side, where Lightning Dust was hefting the third of the batteries, using her wings for balance as she actually lifted the huge mass of stone over her head for a moment before throwing it.

“Yeah!” Lightning Dust yelled. “Best distance yet!”

There was a wet, electric explosion as it smashed into the ground below, shattering in a burst of rainbow-colored sparks.

“How in Tartarus can she do that?!” Sky Stinger asked.

“If you mean the technique I’ve seen it before,” Fleetfoot said, setting down next to the two embracing ponies. “It’s called a caber toss. Usually done with logs, but she makes it work. If you mean how she’s so strong, I got no bucking clue. Where’s the rest of the team?”

“We-- they--” Sky Stinger swallowed, pushing Vapor Trail away. “They’re dead, Ma’am. There’s something horrible here. It’s a pony but he isn’t normal. He’s huge and impossibly strong and we don’t… we don’t stand a chance. We need to get out of here before he finds us!”

“Dead?” Scootaloo gasped.

“A foal?” Sky Stinger blinked.

“This huge pony, he have crystals all over him?” Lightning Dust asked, pausing in front of the last menhir.

“You’ve seen something like it?” Fleetfoot asked.

“...Maybe,” Dust said, after a moment and a guilty look at Stormy Flare. “I don’t know for sure.”

“Is he dangerous?” Fleetfoot asked. When Dust didn’t answer, Fleetfoot stepped around her and grabbed her face, pulling it down so they were looking eye to eye. “Lives are at stake! Focus! I need to know what you know!”

“A normal pony doesn’t stand a chance,” Dust said. “You all need to get out of here.”

“This is my mission,” Fleetfoot said. “If he’s that dangerous then he’s the new mission target. We’ll take him out.”

“Your mission?” Dust asked. “What mission? We’ve got nothing! This isn’t even authorized! You’re totally rogue, aren’t you?!”

“I--” Fleetfoot sputtered. “The Wonderbolts don’t need permission! We’re gonna come back heroes! That’s what you signed up for! That’s what we all signed up for!”

Fleetfoot looked at the others, her eyes wild.

“Sky Stinger, Vapor Trail, you get what I’m saying, right? When we go home ponies are gonna look up to you! They’re gonna see that you’ve got the right stuff!”

The cadets looked away.

“If this isn’t even a real mission…” Vapor Trail swallowed. “Are we AWOL?”

“Stormy Flare, you know how important this is! It’s about a legacy!”

“It’s not worth wasting more lives,” the older mare said.

“Dust?” Fleetfoot asked, getting desperate. “Come on. Don’t abandon the Wonderbolts. Not again. I brought you along so you could prove you aren’t the same coward that got the Bolts disbanded!”

Lightning Dust slapped Fleetfoot, and the smaller pony was flung to the ground like she’d been run over by a yak.

Dust looked down at her for a long moment, eyes glowing faintly green.

“Sky Stinger, Vapor Trail,” Dust said. “You two are going to take point. Stormy Flare is going to stay in the middle with the kid. Fleetfoot will watch your flanks once she can get her hooves out of her bucking mouth.”

She looked up at the sky and the slowly roiling clouds.

“It looks like the sky is lighter in that direction.” She pointed. “So that’s East. You get out of here and if Fleetfoot tries to convince you to come back, gag her and don’t let her talk until you’re in Canterlot.”

“Watch out!” Scootloo yelled.

The warning came just in time. Crystal shards crashed down on the weapon platform like razor hail. Stormy Flare rolled, pulling Scootaloo under her body and shielding her from the shrapnel as she got out of the way. Vapor Trail flapped hard, pushing Sky Stinger into the air with her own backdraft and knocking them both out of the area of effect. Fleetfoot, already on the ground thanks to Lightning Dust, had to take cover under the lightning cannon.

Dust knocked a huge crystal out of the air with her hoof, deflecting it and ignoring the smaller ones opening tiny cuts on her skin, shredding her Wonderbolts uniform. The cuts closed almost as quickly as they formed, sealing with faint flashes of green light.

“I must be losing my touch,” said a huge pony as he pulled himself over the edge of the wall, crystals growing from his hooves and anchoring him in place, letting him walk up the stone like a spider. “I didn’t kill anypony.”

Stormy Flare gasped in pain as she got up, one of her wings shredded, a hole as big as a hoof right through it.

“Oh no,” Sky Stinger gasped.

“Is this the one you saw before?” Dust asked, putting herself between the monster and the rest of the Bolts.

“Oh yes,” Adamant answered for the paralyzed pony. “I let the little one escape so I could follow him back and find more
worthy prey. I’ve been disappointed so far. None of you are putting up much of a fight!”

“I’ll be your huckleberry,” Dust said, rearing up so she could crack her fetlocks. “But I’m more fight than you can handle.”
Adamant grinned. “Come over here and say that.”

Perhaps nopony represents the current Wonderbolts better than their leader, Spitfire. While she doesn’t hold any of the current Academy records, she has a comfortable second or third place in every ranked list. Rather than being a specialist, Spitfire is a pony who can fly any routine asked of her, and uses her great versatility to train new recruits.

Before the war, Spitfire was a public figure, known for rubbing shoulders with the nobility, shaking hooves, kissing foals, and otherwise making ponies remember that the Wonderbolts existed and that they were on the way up. Indeed, it was Spitfire that took over the reins from veteran ponies like Wind Rider and reformed the Wonderbolts from a team focused on fundamentals and record-breaking into one more focused on formation flying and spectacle, incorporating elements from aerial ballet and expending shows to locations outside of Cloudsdale and Canterlot.

After the Thunderbolt Disaster, Spitfire has left the public eye. It seems the Wonderbolts are once again on the way to becoming a footnote in history, though if we can be sure of anything, it’s that they’ll rise again when Equestria needs them.

Interestingly, Spitfire, along with most of the ponies in the Wonderbolts serving under her, were witnesses to the Cloudsdale Incident. While it’s not uncommon for ponies in a tight-knit group like the Wonderbolts to have previous connections, one wonders if this is merely a coincidence or something more.

Dust dodged to the side as a crystal blade swept through the air, barely missing her. Before the monster in front of her could bring it back around, she charged him, headbutting the growth of crystal jutting out of his skull like a glittering crown.

She bounced off, both of them groaning and clutching their skulls.

“Let’s get out of here while it’s busy!” Sky Stinger hissed, grabbing Vapor Trail’s hoof.

“Wonderbolts don’t quit,” Fleetfoot retorted, getting up slowly, using the lightning cannon to brace herself. She looked up at it. “Help me get this thing turned around!”

Lightning Dust ducked low and swept Adamant’s legs, toppling him.

“So what’s your story, huh?” She asked. “Another one of Sombra’s monsters? I’ve killed plenty like you!”

“You’ve never killed anything like me,” he assured Dust.

“Horseapples!” Dust bucked his chest, revealing an old, ragged scar.

“He abandoned this place because he couldn’t control me. I drove him away!” Adamant yelled, forcing Dust away with a blast of liquid crystal that quickly hardened into a rock-hard net holding her to the weapon platform. “I’m the hero here! Celestia chose me! She always told me I’d find my place and I have!”

A blast of blue lightning slammed into his side, exploding the growths on his shoulder and hips, the prisms shattering and revealing raw pink skin underneath. And on his flank, a compass cutie mark.

“That hurt!” Adamant hissed, turning to glare at Fleetfoot.

“Celestia’s Polka-Dot Knickers, I know that cutie mark,” Stormy Flare gasped. “That’s Prince Blueblood! He went missing three years ago after he took half the Royal Guard and tried to counter-invade the Empire!”

“Looks like we found him!” Sky Stinger said, backing way as the pony stomped towards them.

Fleetfoot pulled the trigger for the cannon again, but the single remaining battery simply fizzled, a few sparks pouring from the weapon’s business end.

Blueblood tore the cannon free with his bare hooves, swinging it like a bat at Fleetfoot as she tried to escape. She dodged easily, spinning in midair like a ballerina.

“Come on, Blueblood! I heard you used to play hoofball! Can’t you move with a little hustle?” Fleetfoot teased.

“I’m going to turn you inside out and scrape you clean,” Blueblood growled.

The crystal shell around Dust started to crack as she strained at her bolds. It wasn’t fast enough. Fleetfoot dodged another wild swing, but never saw the second blow coming from behind, a crystal spear held in a shaky telekinetic grip.

She hit the ground, pinned in place like an insect under glass, twitching and bleeding.

Ultimately, the story of the Wonderbolts is one of ponies fighting for something bigger than their own lives. It’s about heroes, and villains. It’s about how a fire that burns twice as bright burns twice as quickly, and how so many good ponies burned so, so brightly that even as they turned to ashes they lit up the whole world.

It’s also about sacrifice, betrayal, and good ponies dying in stupid ways.

Lightning Dust broke free, leaving a half-dozen feathers behind as she lunged at Blueblood, pulling him to the ground and rolling until she was on top of him, forehoof in the air and crackling with electricity.

“Just die already!” She yelled, slamming it down on his crown, shattering it and the horn within.

Blueblood howled, throwing her off and clutching his ruined spire.

“How’d you like that?!” Dust screamed.

“You’re the most annoying pest I’ve ever met!” Blueblood hissed. “I can’t believe Celestia sent ponies like you!”

“Celestia?” Dust smirked. “She doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“But-- she must have sent you!” Blueblood got to his hooves, blood running down his face. “She sent you to find me! I’m her nephew!”

“Blueblood, you were never worthy of calling her Aunt,” Stormy Flare said, sternly. “I’ve seen you disappoint her at every Gala since you were old enough to start attending and insulting every pony in earshot.”

Blueblood lunged for them, Lightning Dust pouncing on his back and rolling, driving a hoof into his ribs and making him cry out in pain.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to anger the giant crazy pony!” Sky Stinger hissed.

“It isn’t,” Stormy Flare agreed.

“We need to help her,” Vapor Trail said.

“She’s doing fine!” Sky Stinger protested.

“Kill all of you!” Blueblood screamed, the remaining crystals on his body flaring with dark light and starting to ring like bells. Lightning Dust was thrown away from his body, spasming with dark lightning.

“Take care of Scootaloo,” Stormy Flare said, pushing the foal into Vapor Trail’s hooves and running into the open, getting Blueblood’s attention. She started fanning her wings, the temperature dropping.

“What’s she doing?” Sky Stinger asked.

“Come on!” Stormy yelled. “Come and get me! You-- you two-bit mudblood in a cheap suit!”

Blueblood roared and charged, not even noticing that Stormy Flare had frozen a thin layer of rain to ice. His hooves lost traction, and he skidded, slamming into the older pony and going over the edge.

Scootaloo screamed.

Lightning Dust got up slowly, limbs shaking from the shock. She stumbled towards the edge, smoke pouring from burned feathers and fur as she looked down into the courtyard.

Blueblood twitched, the crystals along his back and side glowing.

Lightning Dust, half-blind, stumbled towards the last crystal battery, still hissing and sizzling with potential, and lifted it, having to brace herself, taking it in stages, then threw it over the edge.

There was a wet, crackling explosion.

“Now it’s finished,” she said, gasping for breath.

Maybe the Thunderbolt Disaster will mark the end of the road for the Wonderbolts. With the deaths of Soarin, Blaze, High Winds, Misty Fly, and Thunderlane, along with Spitfire’s semi-retirement, there doesn’t seem to be anywhere left to go. After all, everything has its limit. Despite the royal order that put them back into action, it’s hard to imagine them recovering.

But maybe this isn’t the end of the road. Maybe it’s just an intermission between acts, a place to pause and reflect before moving on.

“That’s a sight for sore eyes,” Sky Stinger said, quietly, the spires of Canterlot finally coming into view as the train made its way around the mountain.

“Can you two get Scootaloo back to her aunts?” Dust asked.

“Of course,” Vapor Trail said. The foal hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words since they’d gotten away from the prison. She’d barely even slept or eaten. Only on the train ride back from Manehattan had she really started to relax, falling into a sleep that had lasted twelve hours so far.

“Good,” Dust sighed. “I’ll talk to some ponies about you two going AWOL. You were tricked into it.”

“I didn’t think you had any, um…” Vapor Trail blushed.

“Any friends in the military? Tartarus, most of them want me dead! No, I’m going to talk to sneaky ponies who can get things done.” She grinned and patted the burlap sack at her side. “I think she’ll be willing to do me a favor for this little souvenir.”

“You’re right,” Doctor Sparkle said. She put her glasses back on as she backed away from the microscope. “This core you pulled out of Prince Blueblood’s remains is exactly the sort of thing Sombra uses in Linnorms. Good instincts.”

“Thanks,” Dust said. “It was right in his chest. You know. Just like…”

“Just like Spitfire,” Sparkle said. “And like you. Though you have an Engine Heart, not a crude little dark magic trinket like this.”

Dust nodded.

“He must have experimented with this years ago,” Sparkle mused. “When I was just putting my own prototypes together. I wonder why he did it…”

“That’s above my pay grade,” Dust said. “He wasn’t under Sombra’s control, though. He wasn’t under anypony’s control, not even his own. Blueblood was completely insane.”

“Dark magic does that. It corrupts ponies, mind, body, and soul. It’s one reason I don’t use it in my own designs.”

“So since I got you a present, could you…?”

“I’ll handle things,” Sparkle said, with a shrug. “I’ll have my contacts get those two assigned to something off the front lines. Together.” She smiled a little with genuine mirth. “There isn’t much I can do about your stowaway foal. I fear even my resources aren’t going to be enough to keep her from being grounded for the rest of her natural life.”

“There is one thing,” Dust said. “You told me you did a lot of research into helping ponies who needed it.”

“Yes?”

“She can’t fly. I want you to do what you can to fix that.”

Sparkle raised her eyebrows, adjusting her glasses and giving Lightning Dust an appraising look. “Really? Well, as long as her parents don’t mind, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Just like that?”

“I’m not as heartless as you seem to think,” Sparkle said. “My research was originally for helping ponies like myself. Ponies with magical disabilities.” Her voice softened. “I sympathize with her.”

“Maybe it’ll make up for everything she had to see,” Dust said.

“No,” Sparkle said, quickly. “It won’t. But it might be a reminder that things can get better. And a reminder to myself about just why I’m doing all this.”

The story of the Wonderbolts has lasted a thousand years, and they’ve only managed that by moving forwards, and honoring those who have given their lives by remembering their names and using their feats as inspiration to excel.

They’ll be back. The Wonderbolts have always been there to help heal the soul of the nation, and we’ll need them more than ever.