A Lightning in the Dark

by Centurion Pike-Wall

Rating: teen
Tags: Sad, Princess Luna, Drama, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Lightning Dust, Slice of Life
Length: 2747

~Sometimes darkness can show you the light~

Lightning Dust. A mare who is many things. Some of these things are good things to have: Ambition, skill, determination, fearlessness. Meanwhile, others aren't so good: Lack of empathy, recklessness, careless...Even suicidal. But, why is she like this? What drives her? What is her goal in life? Why did she do what she has done. Read on, to find out.

(Lightning Dust is one of my personal favorite characters. This is my Head-Cannon reason as to why she is so reckless. Gore tag is only there to be safe, as there is a little bit of graphic descriptions, but nothing all that serious. Either way, I hope you all Enjoy!)

Published 2018-11-17 18:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-11-17 18:50:01 UTC

Lightning in the Dark

Author's Note

Music accompaniment recommendation: 'The Light', by Disturbed.

Lightning in the Dark

Lightning Dust stepped forward past the two guards, a nervous look on her face. She didn’t entirely know what was going on, but she didn’t have a good feeling about it. She saw Spitfire standing in front of her, and further back from her, was Rainbow Dash and her friends. She stopped, waiting for Spitfires next action.

It came as the older mare whipped around, pressing her muzzle right up against Lightning’s. Her amber eyes seemed to smolder with rage. She then backed up slightly, and raised a hoof. Lightning, expecting to be hit, cringed, yet the impact didn’t strike her face. Instead, the swipe went low, down by her barrel. Opening her eyes, she gasped in horror as Spitfire, in one clean motion, tore off her wingleader pin. Looking back up at the wonderbolt captain, she hoped to see some sort of sympathy, or regret, or something! Instead, all she saw, was the same smoldering rage.

“Head back to your bunk. We’ll talk there,” she whispered in her ear. At the same time, she pointed a hoof past her, indicating she should leave. Following orders, she turned around and walked back past the two security guards. Looking back dejectedly, she saw Spitfire pin the gold medal on...Rainbow Dash!? Only further saddened by the display, she turned back, skulking off back to the barracks.

Once inside, she walked over to her bunk. It was exactly like all of the others, save for a few personal items. A Wonderbolts poster, signed by Fleetfoot. Her spare flight goggles, slung over the edge of the bed frame. And a few small pieces of other Wonderbolts memorabilia. She ignored it all, slumping down on the bed. She knew what was coming once Spitfire entered the room. No way would she just get rid of her badge and just send her away so harshly. She knew this was it; her career as a Wonderbolts was over before it could start.

She fell down onto the pillow, tears coming from her eyes. She smothered herself in it, as her vision faded to black.

~+++~+++~

When Dust’s vision returned, she found herself not in the Wonderbolts academy barracks. She was in a tent, and was no longer on a bed but instead on a cot. Her head whirled around in confusion, until it fell on a steamer trunk by the foot of her bed. On it were several objects that jarred her memory. A black and green helmet as well as a similarly-colored jumpsuit. She remembered where she was: her tent, in the Washouts camp.

Lightning sighed in relief. It was just a dream. A very vivid dream, and one I’ve never had before. But, just a dream. She stood, stepping onto the cold dirt ground next to the folding cot. She was surprised to find herself already in her jumpsuit. Not the fact that she was in it; she had worn it to bed a few times. But that there was another one on the steamer trunk. The washouts, despite their popularity, weren’t the best off, each of the trio only having one jumpsuit and helmet.

Choosing to ignore it, she moved forward, using her forehoof to push aside the tent flap. She looked around the area, taking in the familiar sights. The Washouts stunt equipment was all set up, ready for a show. A large stage stood off to her left, a tent covering it from her side. To her right, was yet another tent. This also confused her; these tents, the small ones by her, were supposed to be quarters for the Washouts themselves. And yet, she found only two of them, despite there being three washouts.

Sticking out from behind the tent to her left, she saw a crowd. Among them, a few ponies holding notepads, pencils, even a few with portable cameras. Lightning tilted her head in confusion. Were we supposed to have an interview today or something? She didn’t see any other reason; none of the Equipment was active, the stands were empty, and they had never had a stage before. So, maybe it just slipped her mind or something. Either way, she took off toward the back of the tent.

A few seconds later, she slid to a stop behind it. Climbing up onto the back of it, she made her way forward, slipping under the heavy canvas walls of the tent. Behind it, she found another series of flaps, not too dissimilar to the curtains of stage. In between the two flaps was a table, behind which sat her teammates, Short Fuse and Rolling Thunder. In front of them were a pair of microphones, which once again confused her. Where’s mine?

Rolling looked to be calming the crowd. “Alright then. One question at a time, folks. We can take as long as we want. Yes, you: Yellow unicorn with the black fedora.”

“How exactly were the Washouts founded?”, said a voice from out of her line of sight.

“Good question,” said Rolling. “You see, me and my friend Short Fuse here were ex-wonderbolts, ye see? So, one day, we met in a bar, and just grumbled about it. Then, it came to me. ‘Why don’t we just start our own little duo’? And that’s exactly what we did. Next question. Purple Earth pony with the portable camera. Right up front.”

Lightning Dust’s confusion had switched to anger. The Washouts were HER idea, not Thunders. Who did she think she was, stealing credit for her idea. Then the next question and answer came in.

“Wasn’t there a third member of the Washouts at first?”

“No. It was just me and Shorty from the start. Next question.”

By now, Lightning was foaming at the mouth. Not only had Rolling stolen her idea, but also acted like she didn’t exist! She was ready to give that arrogant mare a piece of her mind, when suddenly a hoof landed on her shoulder.

Whirling around, she saw it was Loudspeaker, the Unicorn they had hired to act as an announcer during shows, get out poster, organize finances, as well as act as security. He said, “Ma’am. Your not supposed to be back here.”

Lightning shot him an annoyed sneer. “What do you mean!?”

“What I mean, ma’am, is that the boss has told me to keep any crazy fan out from back here, and that includes you. Now, please leave, or I will have to toss you out. What’ll it be?”

“What do you mean!? I bucking founded the Washouts! Who are you to-MMPH!”

In a flash, she was surrounded by Loudspeakers lime green aura. Despite her struggling, he dragged her to the back of the stage. He said,”Yeah, right. Your just a nobody who thought they could get a close-up look at one of the most popular groups in Equestria. Now, get lost!” With that declaration, he threw her from the stage.

She attempted to flap her wings, to pull herself up, to prevent from crashing. All she managed to do was to force herself into the ground faster. In a flash, her head hit the hard dirt, and darkness washed over her once again.

~+++~+++~

Before she even opened her eyes, she knew something was different. A constant patter of droplets poured down her back, beating across it like a drum. In addition, the ground under her felt different. While the ground around the tents were hard-packed dirt and grass, this time she felt the squishy, bog-like squelching of mud.

Opening her eyes, she was right. Around her prone form was a massive patch of mud. It clung to her coat, and she seemed to be somewhat stuck in it. The mud was a dark brown like chocolate pudding, once again unlike the light, dull brown of the camp. As well as this, she saw ripples in patches of muddy water all around her, indicating it was raining.

As Lightning looked up, she realized that this was a different place. She was in some sort of clearing, the mud spattered ground marred only be a few rocks and shrubs. Around the clearing, tall dark trees fenced her in, their dark leaves flapping like flags in the wind and rain. The sky was a dark mass of grey clouds and crackling lightning, gusts of wind sending leaves and small branches flying.

Lightning pulled herself up onto her haunches, breathing shakily. What, in the nine rings of Tartarus, is going on!? She was a wreck. Tears were barely restrained behind the walls of her pride, but even that threatened to crack. Fear gripped her heart, only made worse, when from out of the darkness of the trees, she saw two orange dots.

The shone into the clearing and onto Dust, freezing her on the spot like a searchlight. Every muscle in her body was screaming at her to run. And yet, she remained still as a statue. Then, the owner of the eyes stepped from the forest.

It was a filly. She had a light magenta mane, as well as a orange coat. Or at least the remains of these. She was horribly burned, the blacked streaks of flesh whipping across her coat and head. In places, she had no fur left; just blacked skin and semi-healed pink patches. Her face was equally ripped to shreds. Her lower jaw hung loose and low, the teeth sticking out at odd angles and the bone showing in some places. Trenches of burn lines ran along the upper parts of its face. But the worst part was still the eyes. They seemed to swirl like fire, full of malice and rage. Lightning then noticed something it was dragging in its left forehoof: A slightly burnt Washouts helmet. She knew this filly. She had tried to get her to do the new stunt, with the rocket scooter.

“S-shrimp?”, she asked. Her voice cracked and shook with barely contained fear.

“Hello, Lightning Dust”. Don’t ask Dust how it spoke with its lower jaw like that; she wouldn’t have been able to answer. But it spoke all the same, its voice low, base, and watery. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“W-what are you?” It was a bit of a cliche line, but it suited the situation.

It’s jaw raised up slightly in what Dust could only assume was a grin. “You don’t remember me? I was the filly YOU killed for your stunt. Your little grab for attention. Your ego.”

Lightning finally managed to find her her legs. She began to back up slightly, terror pounding in her skull. “N-n-no. I-I wasn’t-I mean, I didn’t--”

She was cut off as she fell back, tripping over something. Mud squelched under her, coating her wings and back with the course, dark mud. Looking up to see what she had tripped over, her face paled and blood froze over.

It was a grave. Nothing fancy, nothing too extravagant. In fact, it was underwhelming. It was a simple wooden board, like one you could get from a hardware store. On its surface, etched in black words, what appeared to be marker, was a phrase that chilled Dust: Lightning Ventis Dust. Below it, also etched in the same marker color: 984 ANM-1008 ANM. The year she was born, and, as she recalled, the current year.

Lightning, choking back a sob, asked hesitantly, “I-is that...Me?” Her response was a laugh. A sickening, bone-numbing laugh, in the same watery voice the filly spoke in.

Looking up in alarm, she saw the disfigured form standing over the marker. Its searchlight-like eyes never leaving Dusts, it spoke, “Oh, yes it is. Welcome to Tartarus, Murderer. Enjoy it. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

Suddenly, limbs reached up along either side of her. A white, mud-stained hoof. Another one, this time a light lavender. A disheveled and tattered yellow wing. Oddly enough, a large patch of pink, cotton candy like hair, wrapping around her midsection. They all began to pull her down into the mud.

Lightning struggled, attempting to fight out of the phantom limbs. But the more she did so, the harder the limbs pulled. As she sank, more and more of her vision blocked by the dark wall of the mud, the filly stood over her again. Its face contorted into what could only be described as a horrible sneer, it pressed a hoof over her face, and, in one swift motion, pushed her under the mud.

~+++~+++~

“ENOUGH!”, shouted a loud voice, just out of view. Almost immediately, the mud vanished, and Lightning found herself in a new place. Unlike the others, which all looked either familiar or dark, this one resembled a clear night sky.

Lightning still fought back tears, but the dam was breaking. A few managed to break through and slide down her face, leaving streaks down her face of wet fur. She quivered in fright, her eyes darting around her for the voice. It finally settled on a dark coated alicorn with a flowing mane made of stars.

“Princess Luna!” she yelled in surprise. She quickly whipped away any tears that had fallen already. After this, she fell into a low bow. Well, at least as best she could, shaking like she was.

“There is no need for that here, my little pony,” Luna said. “This is after all, your dream.”

“S-so, none of th-that was r-r-real?” Keep it together, Lightning dust. Keep it together.

“The events you just witnessed? No, none of that was real. But the emotion that fueled these nightmares is.”

Lightning said, still shaking, “W-what, do you m-mean?” Don’t cry in front of the Princess. Don’t cry in front of the Princess.

“Yes. Might I ask, why do you feel this way? What has made you do these things?”

“W-what things?” Don’t cry in front of the Princess, don’t cry in front of the Princess, don’t cry in front of the princess.
“Your actions. Endangering those around you. Caring little for others. Ignoring risks for a bigger specticle. Not heeding safety guidelines. Why? What do you hope to gain?”

“I-I-I…” Don’t cry in front of the Princess! Don’t cry in front of the Princess!

“Was it for fame? Fortune? Attention? Praise?”

“I-I….” DON’T CRY IN FRONT OF THE PRINCESS! DON’T-

The dams broke. Lightning broke down crying, bawling her eyes out like a foal. Luna watched the tears flow like a river; the confident, cocky foil for Rainbow Dash reduced to a blubbering, snotty mess. Lightnings vision became blurry, her ability to see blocked by her waterworks.

“I-I don’t CARE! I don’t care about that stuff! I never did!”, she blubbered through her tears.

Luna placed a hoof on her shoulder. Lightning looked up at her, tears never seceing. “Then why?”

Her head falling down once again, she sniffed out, “I wanted to be remembered! Like Spitfire, or General Firefly, or any of the greats! I don’t want to just be another face in the crowd. I want to be recognized. To be remembered! Something! I don’t care what I have to do? I don’t want to die in obscurity!”

Dust just sat there, tears flowing like rain, for what felt like hours. Finally, she felt a hoof press under her chin, lifting up her head. Her eyes soon locked with those of Luna’s, whose were full of sympathy and a caring gleem.

“Tell me, young Lightning dust. Before my return, had you ever heard of me?” When Lightning shook her head, she continued. “What of Sombra, or Tirek, or Discord?” Again, another head shake. “I expected as much. You see, ponies have a very, selective memory, for lack of a better term. They will remember good deeds, good ponies, and good events. Those who perform actions that hurt ponies, or other horrible things, they are forgotten. They fade with time, their legacy nothing but dust only scholars remember. Tell me, is this what you want your legacy to be?”

Lightning shook her head. The tears were running dry, slowly but surely leaving her. “B-but then, what…”

“Should you do? Simple; do good. Be honest, be kind, make ponies remember the good, not the bad. Do what is right, not what will get you attention. I for one, should know. Now, you will wake soon. Remember this chat, dear Lightning. Goodbye.”

Suddenly, Lightnings vision was consumed by a blinding light, and all the pain of her dream, and the lesson that came with it, vanished.