Rainbow Dash had finally become a full-fledged member of the Wonderbolts. Her dreams of flying alongside the greatest pegasi in all of Equestria were becoming reality.
No, not alongside, but amongst the greatest. She was one of the greats: a legend, a hero to all the little fillies and colts who would see her and want to be her.
Alright, alright, she might’ve been getting a little ahead of herself here. After all, this was only her first training session as a full-blown member. There would be dozens more before she was properly versed in their routines and cycled onto the roster.
Still, it had been a very long road, and this was one step closer to her final destination. Heck, by this point, her destination was now on the horizon; a figurative skyline of fame and glory which was only a few equally figurative kilometers away.
As she trotted into the Wonderbolts' locker room, she realized that this was her first time actually using these hallowed halls after flying with the team. Of course, she’d used the trainee’s locker room before, but this? This was the real deal. This was where the greats showered, goofed around, and chatted after a hard day of flying.
“Hey Crash,” Spitfire said. “Not bad out there.”
Soarin swatted Rainbow’s back with a wing. “Yeah, I’ve never seen a newbie pick up a Mad Daniel’s Corkscrew Dive like that. That bad colt usually takes at least two weeks to learn.”
“Yeah, even Spits and Swallow ate shit the first time she tried that,” Fleetfoot added, sticking out her tongue at Spitfire.
Rainbow warmed. “What can I say, must’ve got lucky.”
Spitfire laughed. “Bullshit. You’re a natural, Crash.”
Locker room banter. Rainbow Dash was experiencing real locker room banter with the Wonderbolts. Holy shit, this wasn’t real. Somepony pinch her, now.
Spitfire walked over to her locker and motioned to Soarin. “Mind helping me with my zipper.”
He nodded and trotted over, grasping it in his teeth and pulling it down.
“Thanks, hun,” Spitfire whispered, kissing him on the snout. “I’ll let you take the first hit.”
First hit? Was this… some kind of ritual? Maybe it was a hazing thing?
Oh my gosh, was she about to get hazed by the Wonderbolts?
Soarin grinned. “What you get this time?”
“Something called Melon Baller, I think you’d like it.”
“Melon Baller?” Rainbow asked.
Spitfire opened her locker, gesturing with a hoof. “Yeah it has a pretty nice balance of THC and CBD, has a nice feel to it. Do you want a hit, Dash?”
“Uh maybe?” she said.
THC? CBD? What were they even talking about?
She shook her head and decided not to ask, lest her inexperience make her look uncool. However, if the Wonderbolts were doing it, it had to be good.
Instead she trotted over to her locker, throwing it open. Inside were the few meagre possessions she’d managed to filter into it this morning. There were a few pictures of her friends, her duffel bag, and a water bottle. A pretty spartan locker, but in time she’d spruce it up, maybe throw up a pinup or two, and give it a bit more character.
Amongst the pictures was a weathered old poster, creased from decades of folding and unfolding, and faded from just as many years of sun exposure and weathering. Still the image was clear. It was the Wonderbolts squad from when Dash was a filly. Their signatures flanked the motto which dominated the top of the poster.
Winners Don’t Do Drugs.
This mantra had stuck with her for years, being what drove her towards greatness. She owed a lot to those four simple words.
Dash was knocked from her reverie by the sound of a racking masculine cough.
“Are you alright, Soarin?” Rainbow asked, jerking back to look at him.
“Yeah he’ll be fine,” Spitfire said, patting him on the back. “Somepony just had a little too much.”
Rainbow’s eyes widened.
In between Spitfire and Soarin was…was something so terrible, so horrendous that Dash just couldn’t believe… WOULDN’T BELIEVE that it shared a space in these, the most sacred of locker rooms.
Her body stiffened, her heart practically stopping as her stomach dropped through the floor.
“Is that…”
She couldn’t finish her sentence, her mouth too dry to form words.
“A joint?” Spitfire asked. “Yeah, you want a drag?”
Rainbow’s eyes widened and breathing caught. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as all she could focus on was that joint. It almost seemed to be creating some form of demon smoke, an alluring force which was dead set on tempting her away from the path of righteousness. It was just like all the after school specials had warned her about.
“Are you ok?” Fleetfoot asked, cocking a brow.
“Is that a weed?” Rainbow finally managed to ask.
Spitfire looked at it and then back at Rainbow, looking absolutely dumbfounded. “Yeah?”
“You smoke weed?”
Soarin let out a final feeble cough. “Dude… everypony smokes weed.”
“I don’t smoke weed,” Rainbow said, her voice sounding about a million miles away.
“Wait really?” Spitfire asked. “Like for real?”
Just stay calm Rainbow. So, what if your heroes smoke weed. There is probably a totally reasonable explanation for why they do it. Maybe… maybe…
She looked at the three concerned faces.
Oh gods, the Wonderbolts were… they were criminals?! They were smoking the weeds and were trying to influence her into doing it. Just… just stay calm Rainbow. JUST STAY CALM!
“Rainbow?” Spitfire tried again.
Rainbow barked laughter. “I just need to… uh… uh… check if I… HELP!”
She screamed and was gone in a flash.
Rainbow crashed into her room, her chest heaving from her sprint home.
Her heroes, the ponies she looked up to most in the world, they were druggies, weedgangers, hippies. How could she have missed all the signs?
She growled and thudded over to her wall, tearing down the first Wonderbolts’ poster she could get her hooves on. Poetically, it was a photo of Spitfire, autographed by the very archangel of their decay.
Looking back on it, it all seemed so obvious. Their laid-back attitude, seeming disregard for other ponies, and Marxist sympathies. All of them were present amongst her hopelessly addicted heroes. How could she have been so stupid?!
Tears clouded her vision as she looked up at the poster in the centre of her wall. It bore a picture of a heavenly Princess Celestia, smiling upon the sweet filly who had gotten it all those years ago.
I D.A.R.E to Resist Drugs and Violence
She had; she had stood up to both of those. She had listened to all her afterschool specials and teachers. Not once did she allow the marijuanas to influence her. After all, winners don’t do drugs, right?
But the Wonderbolts did drugs.
Did that mean… did that mean they weren’t winners?
Rainbow snarled and hurled her hoof at the wall, smashing through cloud. Why was she being tested like this?
Was everything she dreamed of a lie? Was her whole life just some cruel joke?
What was she going to do now?
She couldn’t go back to the Wonderbolts.
She… she needed to talk to somepony.
Fluttershy!
She would talk to Fluttershy. If anypony would understand, it’d be Fluttershy.
She gave her posters a final longing glance, shaking her head in disgust as she left her room behind.
Rainbow zipped up to Fluttershy’s cabin, hammering her hoof loudly on the door.
For a moment there was silence, then Fluttershy opened up and peered out, cracking an unsteady smile.
“Oh hey Rainbowwww, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“Fluttershy, I need to talk to you.”
Fluttershy blinked before stumbling back. “Yeah sure thing, hun. I… uh… why don’t you come in?”
Rainbow did, looking around Fluttershy’s home as she entered. The first thing she noticed was Tree Hugger, who waved a hoof.
“Sup Rainbow?” she said.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry Flutters. I didn’t realize you had…”
The second thing she noticed was a bong. Not just any bong but a weed bong, with actual marijuana in it.
Rainbow swallowed hard. “Weed.”
Fluttershy laughed. “Oh yeah, sorry about that, I uh… Tree Hugger stopped by so I decided to pack bowl. Do you want some?”
“You smoke weed?” Rainbow asked, her gaze growing vacant and blood chilling once more.
“Well duh,” Fluttershy said, rolling her eyes. “Everypony smokes weed.”
“I… I don’t believe this.”
“You ok Rainbow?” Tree Hugger asked. “I’m getting some really weird vibes from your chai.”
Fluttershy glanced at her. “Don’t you mean, chi?”
“Tomato, potato, baby.”
“No,” Rainbow snarled, getting their attention just in time to turn away. “I’m not okay.”
And just like that she was gone.
“Twilight, you won’t believe this, but the Wonderbolts smoke weed,” Rainbow shouted as she crashed into Twilight’s study.
Twilight looked up from her book. “Er… okay?”
“And so, does Fluttershy.”
“Well yeah, duh.”
Rainbow blinked. “Wait… you knew about this.”
“I mean, of course, she’s kind of my dealer.”
“You…you smoke weed?” Rainbow asked, feeling the hot blade of betrayal stab her again.
Twilight shrugged. “I’m more into edibles but I’ll smoke a little from time to time.”
“Why?”
“Rainbow…I’m like 200% stressed, 100% of the time. It’s either weed or some really fucking powerful anti-anxiety meds.”
“You too,” Rainbow asked, feeling another knife pierce her already perforated heart.
Rarity laughed, taping her blunt into a crystal ashtray. “Why of course, darling. Even I need a little help finding inspiration from time to time.”
“Crippling glaucoma, sugarcube."
Rainbow already knew what the answer would be, but she still needed to ask. She needed to know if this parasite had corrupted all of her friends, or if mercy had spared one of them from the dark, smokey clutches of ganja.
Pinkie needed to be pure, she was… she was Pinkie. She was a carefree, bubbly, a party animal. That wasn’t the type of pony who would break the law, was it?
Oh, dear gods, she probably did it too.
“Hey Pinkie…” Rainbow began.
“Yep, I do weed,” she interrupted, not even looking up from her mixing bowl. “I make my own THC and CBD oils and put them into a special coconut butter frosting that is super duper delicious. Then I bring that to parties.”
“So… you all do weed then?”
“Well duh silly.” Pinkie giggled. “Everypony does weed.”
“I don’t,” Rainbow mumbled, looking at the ground.
Pinkie Pie blinked. “Oh… huh…” She held out the edge of her spatula. It was dripping with frosting, “do you want to try it out?”
“NO!”
And with that Rainbow left the last of her friends behind.
There was only one hope left, one last thing that could set the world straight. Rainbow needed to go to Canterlot and see the princesses. They would know what to do. They had to!
She’d reveal what she knew and they’d put her friends into rehab. They deserved to get help for what could’ve only been a terrible mistake. They were accidentally addicted to marijuana. It was the only reasonable explanation. It was all some slip up, and they would be better after a few months removed from its influence, under the supervision of a qualified doctor, of course.
As the sun set, she left her cloud home, sticking close to the ground.
High speeds and the cool night air, they together were her anti-drug, keeping her mind clear.
The princesses would help, they needed to. They were the savours of Equestria. Hell, Celestia was on her poster. She was the one who created D.A.R.E. She’d know the proper seriousness of this issue and probably have all the answers to fixing it.
All Rainbow needed to do was make it to Canterlot.
She pumped her wings even harder, picking up speed.
Her plan was crystal clear. She’d be the hero her friends needed, somepony to save them from the clutches of the green devil. There would be parades, festivals…
CRACK!
Detective Tear Gas munched on a donut, pointing the tip of a half-eaten Boston Cream at the blue mare on the ground. Though mare was a bit generous of a descriptor, it was more like a fine blue and red paste.
Really it was a rather revolting sight.
He took another bite, loudly chewing.
“So, what do we have here?” Tear Gas’ partner, Detective Undercover asked.
The crime scene investigator gestured to the billboard over the corpse. It was an advert for one of Canterlot’s many fashion boutiques and currently had a massive hole gaping in the middle of it.
“Looks like the mare hit the billboard at considerable speed. Judging by the wounds, I’d imagine she broke her neck on impact, blew through it, and crashed into the ground going at least several hundred kilometres an hour. Really, it’s a pretty run-of-the-mill flight accident.”
Undercover nodded, pulling out a pair of sunglasses.
“Sounds like a pretty cut and dry case of death by…”
He put them on.
“Blunt trauma.”
Author's Note
I uh... really hope that I managed to do a Feghoot correctly.
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