No Gift is Freeby libertydudeChaptersThree Drunk Ponies Walk Out of a Bar...Familiar FacesFailuresThe DecisionThree Drunk Ponies Walk Out of a Bar...“Give me another,” Lightning Dust groaned. The bartender gave an annoyed look, staring down at the empty shot glasses lying before the turquoise mare. “Looks like you’ve had enough.” “You need glasses then,” she growled. “So do I. Give me another.” “You’re soused, girlie. Go home.” “No way. I paid for my drinks! I have rights.” “You’ll get rights and lefts if you don’t drag your carcass out of here.” Lightning smirked. “You can try. I fought stallions ten times your size and came out alright. Flown in hurricanes with only a wet coat and ruffled feathers to show for it,” she said, pumping a hoof against her chest. “Done loop-de-loops blindfolded and with my legs tied together.” “Sounds impressive,” the bartender chirped. “But this is a bar, not a Wonderbolts camp.” Lightning’s eyes flashed in anger for a brief moment, before settling back to their glazed look. “I’ll give you a ten bit tip if you give me another.” The bartender stared for a few moments, then curled his lip. “Twelve bits,” he said, lifting a bottle of Appleloosa Cider and filling another dingy glass. “And you better not cause any trouble, or I’ll throw you out.” Lightning chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” The glass landed with a loud thunk, and she shot it up to her lips. She could feel the booze dripping down her chin, brown stains flowing upon the light blue-green coat she’d been born with. She stopped before gulping the whole thing down and looked around the establishment. Aside from the bartender and two other ponies cavorting in the corner booth, nopony else filled the bar. A thick cloud made up the floor, just like anywhere else in Cloudsdale. Pictures of sporting events long past dotted the walls, distant historical footnotes Lightning couldn’t recall. She would’ve liked to say it was the booze, but she knew it was because she couldn’t care less. “I could’ve been on these walls,” she groaned. “Everypony says that,” the bartender said, rubbing a rag inside a glass. “This cider makes mare and stallion alike think they could’ve been Babe Hoof.” “Ha!” Lightning laughed. “I would’ve been better than a dozen Babe Hoofs! A hundred of them! I would’ve been better than all the Babe Hoofs and Vic Canters and every other bum that called themselves the best!” “Sure you would’ve,” the bartender said, wiping the glass clean. She stared back into her glass, a tired face and loose amber mane appearing in each rivulet off the glass. “Laugh all you like. I could’ve been the best. No…I am the best! They just couldn’t see it.” “Mm-hm.” The bartender wiped a soggy spot on the far side of the bar now, a strange concoction of vomit and watered-down tequila. “If they did, I’d be up there now, flying high and kicking flank and not hanging out in dives like this.” The bartender shot a glare her way. “Lady, I’ll take your tip, but not your lip. Shut up and drink, or get out.” For a moment, Lightning wanted to protest, but the last quarter glass of cider felt like it was worth more effort. So she grabbed the drink and threw back her head. Fewer drops slid down her chin this time, the bartender’s watchful eyes staring back at her in the bar mirror he now wiped. When the drink was done and her head pounded a little bit less, a thought popped into Lightning’s head: Why am I here? It came out of nowhere, like it’d been buzzing around her face all night, waiting to slip into her brain between drinks. Even after a half-dozen, her usual quips came to mind: Because I flew here. Because it was where the booze was. Because I didn’t have enough money to get the bar in my own house. She grinned at the wooden bar underneath her hooves and twirled the empty glass, impressed by her own wit. While these little barbs would’ve given her some comfort in sobriety, the phrases felt inherently meaningless to her alcohol-riddled system. The question penetrated her cynicism, her sarcasm barriers that prevented anypony from getting a bead on Lightning Dust, the self-proclaimed greatest flier in Equestria. No, there was only one answer that was true, untainted by her defensive posturing: Because of Rainbow Dash. Spitfire, the Wonderbolt Captain who governed the Academy like her own sovereign nation, disagreed with this assessment. She’d pinned the responsibility on Lightning, labeled her guilty of “reckless endangerment”, and kicked her out of the Academy. To a degree, the pegasus understood why she made such a decision: accidents happen all the time, and when they start leaving bruises, a fall pony is needed. Said bruises also just so happened to occur to the Elements of Harmony, pinnacles of Equestria and the one group of ponies Spitfire couldn’t brush off. Spitfire needed somepony on the chopping block stat, and the mare who started the tornado seemed like the best candidate. Never mind the Elements had no business flying that close to a training site. It’s Wonderbolts property, after all. Would some silly colt flying into the Rainbow Factory be considered a poor soul when he fell into a color vat, or would they get rightfully scolded for going into such a dangerous environment? The Elements had status in this lovely nation, however, and their perception of events overrode Lightning’s in all degrees. The big thing to consider was her: Rainbow Dash, the mare Lightning had once considered a kindred spirit, a fast-flying daredevil who wouldn’t let anypony stand in the way of her dreams. So enchanted by the mere opportunity of being on the Wonderbolts, she was willing to give up her usual ego and be Lightning’s wingpony. For the first few days, they were quite a team. Flying faster and higher than the rest of the cadets. They couldn’t be stopped. Lightning should’ve seen the signs: the little stink in Dash’s eyes every time Lightning outdid another record, the little lags behind Lightning growing with each lap, the frequent visits to Spitfire after practice. All the signals were there, but Lightning Dust was blinded by the admiration. She couldn’t think of Dash as the conniving, vindictive, and most of all, jealous schemer she really was. Like all tales of jealousy, the guilty party had only to wait for the perfect time to strike. For Rainbow Dash, that was when the hot air balloon filled with her friends just so happened to pass by while Lightning did her controlled tornado. What convenient timing, Lightning thought with another gulp of cider. Lightning never outright accused Dash of orchestrating the incident, but with each drink in each bar, she began to wonder if Dash’s opportunism would stoop so low. She’d been real good about it, too. Made sure Spitfire saw her crocodile tears, mentioned her Element of Loyalty as loudly as she could to anypony in earshot, bloviated about how she couldn’t be in a group that let ponies be hurt so easily and didn’t care about its own cadets. If this was a movie awards ceremony, ol’ Dashie would’ve gotten Best Actress for certain. And like any great performance, Spitfire ate it up. In a few fleeting moments of sobriety, Lightning Dust thought that she may’ve been wrong. That these thoughts were just alcoholic delusions, paranoid whimsies of yet another inebriated session. However, there was one memory she knew beyond all her inebriated bouts was true: Rainbow Dash’s smile. She’d done it just after Spitfire ripped off the badge from Lightning’s chest, tearing the pristine uniform she’d worn with pride the past few days. She was practically naked in front of the other cadets, the symbol of her superiority and talent ripped off her body and thrown to the ground. She could feel all of their eyes on her, judging her for a misdemeanor blown into a felony. They’d forever judge her as the washout, the failure who’d gotten on the bad side of the Elements and suffered the consequences. It was then she saw it: that little smile coming out of the corner of Rainbow Dash’s mouth. It was stifled like it was a forlorn frown, a clear attempt to look like a gaze of regretful discipline instead of the malevolent smirk it was. She was still performing, showing everypony how sorry it was that it’d come to this and that poor Lightning Dust had to pay for her crimes. Lightning wasn’t fooled. She knew Dash wanted this, and she knew that she’d feel joy from it every single day of her life. When she closed her eyes to sleep, when she sat in some far off café with the special somepony she’d never deserve, when she stared into her children’s eyes out of appreciation that she’d produced something else in her own image. She’d be thinking about Lightning Dust and the pain she’d caused her, and she’d relish it for the rest of her days. “I’m tired of this,” Lightning said. “I’m out of here.” “Miracles do happen,” the bartender said with feigned joy. “Don’t forget the tip.” Lightning snorted and threw the bits beside the empty glasses. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” The bartender snatched the coins up like he worried somepony would nab them any second. Lightning chortled and started shambling towards the exit, situated right next to the corner booth where the two strangers lounged. One sat with a fluffy, white mane upon her head and dark purple fur covering her body. The other one seemed noticeably short, his legs hanging over the chair like a little filly. His orange body clashed with his bright blonde mane, like a low fire burned across his head and neck. “I swear, this place drags more than a river search,” the purple one groaned. “Yeah, I thought the Wonderbolts would be my ticket out of this dump,” the orange pegasus said. “Too bad it was way lamer than anywhere in Cloudsdale.” He took a sip of his drink before spitting it all over the table. “WHY IS THIS RUM?! I ASKED FOR GIN!” “Hey, keep it down!” the bartender hollered, shaking his hoof. “This is a quiet place!” “THEN SERVE THE RIGHT DRINKS, YOU STUPID NINCOMPOOP!” The bartender stood up and, instead of the slight pudge Lightning expected him to have, the stallion had a long row of muscles on his chest. The apron strained to stay tied to his body, and his legs similarly pulsated with thick tendons. “What’d you say, bud?” the bartender said, neck veins looking ready to pop. “Nothing,” the orange one grumbled. “That’s what I thought.” The muscles seemed to vanish once he disappeared back behind the bar, where he returned to polishing the vintage bottles behind him. Lightning Dust backtracked to the table. “Excuse me?” The two pegasi looked at her, a mixture of surprise and irritation upon their faces. “Yeah?” the orange one grunted. “You said you were in the Wonderbolts Academy?” Lightning asked. An uncharacteristically genuine interest filled her voice. “Yeah. What’s it to you?” Lightning gave a small grin. “Nothing. Just glad to see somepony else knows the truth about that racket.” “You’re telling me,” the purple pegasus said. “You can’t do anything over there. Go a little too fast or bonk one barrel, and zoom! The Captain gets on your case.” The orange pegasus snarled. “I don’t even know why they kicked me out. I had the best attitude in my class!” The purple one laughed. “You’ll remember when you’re sober, Shorty.” “Yeah. Name’s Lightning Dust, by the way.” “Rolling Thunder,” the purple one said, then pointed to the smaller one. “He’s Short Fuse.” “I CAN INTRODUCE MYSELF!” Short Fuse hollered, sending his rum toppling to the floor. “That’s it!” the bartender said, jumping over the bar and flexing his muscles once again. “Since you punks like shouting and spilling booze all over the place, you can do it outside!” He pointed toward the door. “Get out, or it won’t just be a hangover you’ll feel in the morning!” Short Fuse readied himself for a lunge, but Rolling Thunder put a hoof to his shoulder. “Alright, mate,” Rolling Thunder said, pulling out a number of bits. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot.” The bartender’s eyes didn’t leave them until all three stumbled outside into the night, quiet buildings floating all around them. The second they felt cold clouds swirling under their hooves, the bar door slammed and locks clacked in quick succession. “Must be one hay of a stick jammed up his flank.” Rolling Thunder said with a grin. “Yeah,” Lightning said, the first true smile since her Academy days coming across her face. “So, where we gonna crash?” Short Fuse grumbled. “Lousy rum makes me tired.” “There’s a hotel down the next block with pretty good rates,” Lightning explained. “Not the best, but it’ll look like the Ritz with how many drinks we’ve had.” “Suits me alright,” Rolling Thunder chortled. “Though Shorty will have to keep his mouth shut if we got loud neighbors. Got kicked out of our last hotel because of his yowling.” “I told you,” Short Fuse growled. “I can’t sleep if it’s loud, and I’m not losing sleep because other ponies don’t know when to shut up.” Lightning Dust laughed, the trio now flying down the cloud avenue stretching before them. “You two got some good spunk. No wonder the Wonderbolts couldn’t handle you.” “What about you?” Fuse said, the irritation in his voice starting to fade into a vague drowsiness. “What’d you get kicked out for?” She stared ahead into the misty evening, out at the large sports coliseum and weather factory in the distance. Then she just shook her head. “I’ll tell you when I’m sober.” Familiar FacesFOUR YEARS LATER “...and that’s all, folks!” The announcer called out. “Thanks for coming out, but these daredevils need to have a little rest! Tell your friends, and be sure to stop by for tomorrow's show!” Lightning Dust couldn’t help but grin under her helmet. Another day, another defiance of death, another round of applause from the adoring masses. It was enough to make a mare want to thank everypony that got her there. Of course, Lightning Dust only had one pony to thank for that, and she saw her every day in the mirror. With that in mind, she flew down to the tents behind the death contraptions. She’d find a place to sit down, relax, chat it up with her crewmates and plan the next big- She saw the pony’s tail first, sticking out between the tents. The distinctive rainbow pattern shot through her mind like a brain freeze. It didn’t do anything, not even flicking in the minor breeze blowing through the Washout camp, but Lightning’s fur still stood as if she could hear a predator stalking her through the grass. Maybe it’s just a distant relative, she thought. Or some rando who just happened to have the same hair. The brief moment of hope died as she got closer, seeing the coat’s distinctive cyan coloring and the flat mane perked along the head. Not even the cutie mark allowed denial, her flank spouting a cloud emitting a rainbow lightning bolt. Rainbow Dash was here, and she was talking to the other Washouts. For a second, Lightning didn’t think anything. Her brain simply couldn’t process her torturer was right here, right now, right where Lightning Dust had to be. The hatred began to creep back the more the rainbow tail swished in the air, gleefully unaware of the fact Lightning Dust was right behind her. I should do it now, she thought. I should just zoom in and land on her. Say it was an accident, say I didn’t mean to bend your wing that direction and ruin your Wonderbolt career. It’d be just an unfortunate accident, one of those karmic justices that surprise even the pony on karma’s good side. What modicum of self-control she had kept her from launching forward right then and there, and she gently floated to the ground. “Oh, hey there!” Rainbow Dash said. Another bout of confusion filled Lightning Dust’s mind. How can she talk to me so casually? she thought, an annoyance tinting her voice. Did she think we were still buddies? Then she remembered: her helmet was still on. Combined with the Washout jumpsuit, nopony could recognize her. “Me and my friend here just wanted to say how much we enjoyed the show!” Dash pointed to the small pegasus standing next to her, a little orange thing with a purple mane. “Y-You guys totally rocked!” the little filly cheered. For a moment, Lightning Dust considered just nodding. Just keep the helmet on, let her never know she enjoyed the work of the mare she ruined. There’d be an irony there Lightning could savor for the rest of her days. No, that just wouldn’t do. Rainbow Dash needed to see that she’d been wowed by her victim, that Lightning could produce something so beautiful even Dash’s immoral soul could only gape in wonder at it. Alright then, she thought. She took off her helmet, a slight scowl on her face. Dash gasped. “Lightning Dust!” she growled. “Rainbow Dash!” Lightning Dust growled back. She gave hers a little tone, as if she’d actually been surprised. “You two know each other?” the little filly said. “Know her?! She threw me out of the Wonderbolts!” Lightning Dust said through gritted teeth. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t deserve it!” Rainbow said, lips pursed. So, she was still putting on a show. The good ol’ ‘She Deserved It, Not Me’ spiel. Still putting in for that performance award nopony would ever notice but Lightning. No, I have to change tactics, Lightning thought. Trying to shame her wouldn’t work. How do you shame somepony who hurts anypony without a care in the world? Just play it cool. Don’t even act fazed that she ruined your dream. “And it was the best thing to ever happen to me!” Lightning Dust said smirking. “Yea-! Huh?” Rainbow Dash said. “Because I got thrown out of the Wonderbolts, I was able to go and start my own group with these knuckleheads.” She pointed to her teammates, now massaging one another. “Um…Okay,” Rainbow Dash said. Good, Lightning thought. She’s getting confused. Let’s keep this going. “In fact, I really should be thanking you, Rainbow. None of this could’ve happened had we not made that little twister and gotten my creative juices flowing.” Dash’s eyes narrowed. “That ‘little twister’ almost made my friends fall out of the sky.” “Alright, I made a mistake,” Lightning Dust said. The acknowledgement made her want to shiver, but she kept her face calm. “Either way, we’re both pretty happy. I’ve got my daredevil group, and you’re up there with your flyboys. Splits even, yeah?” “I…I guess.” This was rich, Lightning thought. Dash couldn’t react with the usual indignity, the usual moral presumptuousness she had as one of the Elements. Now she just had to admit she got what she wanted and leave it at that. “And what about you, kid? What’s your connection to old Dashie?” “Oh, she’s my sister, only she’s not my actual sister, but we’re pretty much sisters anyway and oh my Celestia you were so amazing!” she squealed. Lightning grinned. “Tell me something I don’t know.” “Do you think I could one day get into the Washouts?” “Aw, you’re sweet, but part of our shtick is that we only take those who couldn’t get into the Wonderbolts.” “Ooh, ooh, what if I went to the Wonderbolts and failed there?” “What?” Rainbow Dash said. “C’mon, Scoots, nopony ever fails the Wonderbolts on purp-“ “My wings aren’t too good, so it’d probably come naturally! I could be ready here by tomorrow!” “That’s it!” Rainbow said. “I’m taking you to see the Academy right now.” With that, she grabbed the filly’s hoof and flew up in the sky. “Say hi to Spitfire for me!” Lightning Dust snarked. She wandered back towards the tents, another smile plastered across her face. FailuresThe hot bath managed to smooth Lightning’s pores far better than she remembered. The natural steam soaked deep into her skin, and her breath seemed to flow into her lungs as easily as a fish could suck in water. Maybe it was something in this Ponyville water that made it so comfortable. No, she knew deep down what the spring’s secret ingredient was, the intangible factor soothing her into near-sleep: revenge. It shouldn’t have felt good, like every teacher and foster parent told her back in school. It should’ve been shameful, a demonstration of Lightning’s ever-slipping morality and liability to play dirtier with each passing day. Even now, she could hear one of several Princesses cooing in her ear about forgiveness and not letting grudges destroy yourself. None of them saw the look on Rainbow Dash’s face in those moments, when little Scootaloo promised to fail the Wonderbolts and come to Lightning’s team. It was the kind of revenge that should’ve been so minor, so unremarkable, that Dust shouldn’t have even given it a second thought. Yet it was so delicious, so good to see the normal smugness in Dash’s face deflate into pure anger and hurt when she saw her little friend didn’t want to be like her anymore. That Scootaloo wanted to be like the mare who’d triumphed despite all of Dash’ machinations. Rainbow Dash had failed in the most important spot she’d claimed to have the utmost authority over: loyalty. A certain nibbling doubt began to fill her mind, some petty morality drilled into her by the same flight coaches and school teachers that told her to slow down. “This isn’t worth the trouble,” it said. “Dash is off in her miserable corner of the world, you are in your own. Keep it that way. Stay away from her and the little one. Let this little revenge be enough for your life.” Just then, Rolling Thunder and Short Fuse walked into the tent, their uniforms off and towels wrapped around their mid-sections. Thunder’s towel hung tight against her body, while Short’s hung lopsided off his right side. “Hiya, chief,” Thunder cracked. “Yeah!” Short Fuse replied with a wave. “Great job out there, boss! Haven’t seen a crowd that excited since the Manehattan gig!” “They were pretty into it,” Lightning Dust said with a smug expression, watching the other two remove their towels and descend into the steaming tub. “Aaaaah,” Thunder sighed. “That’s right nice on my banged up leg.” “Just make sure you don’t make that mistake ever again, Thunder,” Dust said. “Next time you may get more than just a scratch.” “Consider it locked in the vault, chief.” Thunder lifted her leg out of the water and wiggled it around. “Hard to forget a bang-up like that.” Lightning Dust nodded and closed her eyes, leaning her head on the tub’s rim. She began to drift off into a far-off darkness, the bubbles rolling up her skin. “Hey boss?” Short Fuse said. “Yeah?” Dust groaned, eyes still closed. “I just want to say thanks.” “For what?” Lightning asked. “For all...this.” The splashing water indicated to Lightning he was waving his arms around the tent. “For getting us together. Without you, we would’ve never gone anywhere.” Lightning Dust looked up and expected to see Short Fuse gritting his teeth in barely contained annoyance, or some other sign his thanks came as a reluctant attempt to suck up to his boss. However, all she saw was warm admiration in his eyes, the first time in a while she’d seen him this way. Thunder similarly took on an appreciative look, nodding her head to the rhythm of the popping spring bubbles. “Hey, don’t mention it,” Dust said. “We're all outcasts from the Wonderbolts. We need to stick together, you know?” “Sure, but most ponies would have started a lame fan club or some other stupid thing,” Thunder said. “You got us here in the Washouts, playing sold out crowds and drawing just as much attention as the Wonderbolts. That’s more than most failures would’ve gotten.” “WHO YOU CALLING A FAILURE?” Short Fuse blurted. Thunder recoiled somewhat, and Dust did her best to stifle a laugh. “Fuse is right,” Dust said. “OF COURSE I’M RIGHT! I’M- Really?” “Sure! We’re a lot of things: Dropouts. Hard headed. A bit too quick to fight. We’re even what the Wonderbolts called us: washouts. But the one thing we most certainly aren’t is failures!” She swung her hooves out to the tent’s opening. “You think failures could be turning out crowds like these? That failures would have lasted a fraction of the time we’ve been doing this?” “No!” the other two chimed in agreement. Lightning smiled. “Then we’re not failures, regardless of what anypony, Wonderbolt or otherwise, says!” They both nodded, wide smiles on their faces. “Speeches like this remind me of why we started following you, chief,” Thunder said with a smile. “And I thought it was because of my sunny personality,” Dust said with an equally wide smirk. “That too!” Short Fuse said. With that, the group all leaned their heads back and let the water flow over them. A few contented sighs came out every now and then, but nothing else disturbed the peaceful quiet rushing over them. See? Lightning told the little voice. I’m doing alright. I’m helping these two. I’m helping all those ponies out there, giving them a show they’ll never forget. I’m the good guy here, helping others while Rainbow Dash is trying to keep her sister to herself and make everything about her. If she comes back, I can play a few more games with her. She’ll survive a few more runs in the dryer. I know I did. The DecisionTHE NEXT DAY “Lightning Dust!” a small voice called out. Lightning focused all of her strength on not falling out of her wooden chair, though the erasable marker still fell out of her mouth. She thrust forward, catching herself on the whiteboard drawn with vague markings and doodles for the day’s stunts. Lightning gave a relieved sigh at the marker landing on the ground. The stunt plans would look lousy with a squiggle running right through them, Lightning thought. She turned around and found herself staring at a little orange filly, wiggling in the tent’s open flap. “Oh, hey there. Scootaloo, right?” Lightning said. The filly shook her head up and down as fast as a lightning bolt. “Come by to cheer us on again?” She asked the filly. “Better than that! I’ve come to join up with the Washouts!” Scootaloo exclaimed, her wings buzzing in excitement. Lightning couldn’t help but snigger, and a confused look crossed Scootaloo’s face. “What’s so funny?” the filly asked. “I’m sorry, kid. It’s just that…I’ve never seen a pony so eager to join us, and I’ve seen some really enthusiastic ponies on tour, believe me.” “Well, they’re nowhere near me in fan levels!” Scootaloo claimed, proudly puffing out her chest. “I’ll bet,” Lightning said, smirking. “So can I? Can I? Can I?” Scootaloo hopped up and down, her body flinging every way it could without fully leaving the ground. “Look, Scoots, I’m happy you’re so enthusiastic about us. Nopony likes it more than I do to hear about how awesome we are.” The filly’s eyes lit up in joy. “But you got to remember that we only take those who wash out of the Wonderbolts.” “Oh, I already have!” “Huh?” I know Spitfire takes walk-ons every now and then, Lightning thought. But how the hay did she even get into the Academy under twenty-four hours? “Well, I mean, I didn’t technically wash out.” Scootaloo’s hoof scratched the back of her head. “I didn’t even really join, but with wings like these, I’m never going to even get into the qualifying rounds.” She buzzed her little wings, only getting off the ground for a scant few seconds. “I see what you mean,” Dust said, a frown on her face. “Flappers like those probably wouldn’t even let you get past the initial exams.” “So can I join? Please?” Lightning sighed. “Look, kid, I know this means a lot to you, but what is something that every single Washout has done during the show?” “Stunts!” “Something even simpler than that.” “Um…” Her face dropped. “Flying?” “Bingo. Almost every one of our stunts deal with us flying against different obstacles. We were Wonderbolts tryouts, after all.” A look of sympathy crossed her face. “And if you can’t join the Wonderbolts because you can’t fly, what do you think your chances are out here?” Scootaloo’s eyes began to fill with tears. “B-But I thought…” “I know it’s tough, kid. I wanted to be a Wonderbolt so bad when I was your age. Heck, a part of me still does. Sometimes though, we can’t do what we want because of things beyond our control. It took me a long time to learn that. You’re lucky to be learning that now.” “I…I understand…” Scootaloo said between sniffles. “I’ll just…just go now.” Dust nodded. “You have fun during the show, kid.” Scootaloo started walking out, but stopped halfway through the tent flap. “Don’t tell Rainbow I was here, okay?” Dust’s ears perked up. “Why? She still sore about yesterday?” “More than that. She spent the past few hours trying to convince me to keep trying for the Wonderbolts and exercising my wings.” A dry chuckle escaped Dust’s lips. “That sounds like Dash, all right. I’m shocked she even survived training with all the stars in her eyes seeing the Wonderbolts in the flesh.” “Yeah,” Scootaloo said. “She even tried to get me to stop trying to see you guys.” For a few moments, both of them were silent. Scootaloo wondered if she’d said something wrong, that Lightning would tell her to get out and never come back. This could not be further from the truth. A gift, Lightning thought. A pure, unadulterated gift. Rainbow Dash’s own sister in everything but flesh, standing here and begging me to take her. Why haven’t I hopped on this before? This wouldn’t just be revenge; this was uber-revenge, the kind of vengeance that only happened once in ten lifetimes. The plan would be simple: Let Scootaloo into the Washouts, and watch Dash squirm as her little sister found another big sister to follow. That little voice couldn’t help but speak up. “No, stop,” it ordered. “You got your digs into Rainbow Dash. You got the idolization of her sister. You’ve even got greater loyalty from your teammates than Rainbow will ever get from her friends. Go any further, and there will be things you can’t control. This little filly won’t last a day with these stunts. She’ll get hurt, all because you couldn’t let your vendetta die.” This little filly… Lightning took a deep breath. “Hey kid?” she cooed. “Yeah?” Scootaloo said, trying her best to keep the tears from showing. “How good are you on that scooter?” The filly’s eyes went wide. “Y-You mean…?” Lightning grinned. “Yep. Grab your speeder and get a jumpsuit on. Looks like we’re debuting a brand new Washout this afternoon.” Before she could even blink, Lightning found herself in an iron hug. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” Scootaloo blubbered, her tears streaming now in happiness. “I won’t let you down!” “I know,” Lightning said, patting Scootaloo’s back. “Now get going! We’ve got a show to do!” Scootaloo disengaged her hug and threw a salute. “Yes, ma’am!” She ran out the tent as fast as any Wonderbolt could, the entrance flap snapping in the air. Lightning chuckled and went back to the whiteboard, twirling the black marker in her hoof. She began to draw the hill above the stunt grounds and Scootaloo sitting atop it on her scooter. The flaming wagons burned below her, ready to be jumped. Mmm, Lightning thought. May need a bit more propulsion. A few scribbles later, a crude rocket sat strapped to the scooter, double the size of a pony. Lightning leaned back and gave a complimentary sigh. “Perfect,” she said. She stared at the little stick figure sitting on the hill, small and blank-faced. Her hooves gripped the scooter with an excitement Lightning couldn’t help but appreciate. She’s tough, Lightning thought. She’ll get through the Wagon Jump, the Jaws of Doom, the Smasher, all of them with barely a scratch. Heck, she may even become the second-best Washout. For a few moments, she almost believed it.
Three Drunk Ponies Walk Out of a Bar...“Give me another,” Lightning Dust groaned. The bartender gave an annoyed look, staring down at the empty shot glasses lying before the turquoise mare. “Looks like you’ve had enough.” “You need glasses then,” she growled. “So do I. Give me another.” “You’re soused, girlie. Go home.” “No way. I paid for my drinks! I have rights.” “You’ll get rights and lefts if you don’t drag your carcass out of here.” Lightning smirked. “You can try. I fought stallions ten times your size and came out alright. Flown in hurricanes with only a wet coat and ruffled feathers to show for it,” she said, pumping a hoof against her chest. “Done loop-de-loops blindfolded and with my legs tied together.” “Sounds impressive,” the bartender chirped. “But this is a bar, not a Wonderbolts camp.” Lightning’s eyes flashed in anger for a brief moment, before settling back to their glazed look. “I’ll give you a ten bit tip if you give me another.” The bartender stared for a few moments, then curled his lip. “Twelve bits,” he said, lifting a bottle of Appleloosa Cider and filling another dingy glass. “And you better not cause any trouble, or I’ll throw you out.” Lightning chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” The glass landed with a loud thunk, and she shot it up to her lips. She could feel the booze dripping down her chin, brown stains flowing upon the light blue-green coat she’d been born with. She stopped before gulping the whole thing down and looked around the establishment. Aside from the bartender and two other ponies cavorting in the corner booth, nopony else filled the bar. A thick cloud made up the floor, just like anywhere else in Cloudsdale. Pictures of sporting events long past dotted the walls, distant historical footnotes Lightning couldn’t recall. She would’ve liked to say it was the booze, but she knew it was because she couldn’t care less. “I could’ve been on these walls,” she groaned. “Everypony says that,” the bartender said, rubbing a rag inside a glass. “This cider makes mare and stallion alike think they could’ve been Babe Hoof.” “Ha!” Lightning laughed. “I would’ve been better than a dozen Babe Hoofs! A hundred of them! I would’ve been better than all the Babe Hoofs and Vic Canters and every other bum that called themselves the best!” “Sure you would’ve,” the bartender said, wiping the glass clean. She stared back into her glass, a tired face and loose amber mane appearing in each rivulet off the glass. “Laugh all you like. I could’ve been the best. No…I am the best! They just couldn’t see it.” “Mm-hm.” The bartender wiped a soggy spot on the far side of the bar now, a strange concoction of vomit and watered-down tequila. “If they did, I’d be up there now, flying high and kicking flank and not hanging out in dives like this.” The bartender shot a glare her way. “Lady, I’ll take your tip, but not your lip. Shut up and drink, or get out.” For a moment, Lightning wanted to protest, but the last quarter glass of cider felt like it was worth more effort. So she grabbed the drink and threw back her head. Fewer drops slid down her chin this time, the bartender’s watchful eyes staring back at her in the bar mirror he now wiped. When the drink was done and her head pounded a little bit less, a thought popped into Lightning’s head: Why am I here? It came out of nowhere, like it’d been buzzing around her face all night, waiting to slip into her brain between drinks. Even after a half-dozen, her usual quips came to mind: Because I flew here. Because it was where the booze was. Because I didn’t have enough money to get the bar in my own house. She grinned at the wooden bar underneath her hooves and twirled the empty glass, impressed by her own wit. While these little barbs would’ve given her some comfort in sobriety, the phrases felt inherently meaningless to her alcohol-riddled system. The question penetrated her cynicism, her sarcasm barriers that prevented anypony from getting a bead on Lightning Dust, the self-proclaimed greatest flier in Equestria. No, there was only one answer that was true, untainted by her defensive posturing: Because of Rainbow Dash. Spitfire, the Wonderbolt Captain who governed the Academy like her own sovereign nation, disagreed with this assessment. She’d pinned the responsibility on Lightning, labeled her guilty of “reckless endangerment”, and kicked her out of the Academy. To a degree, the pegasus understood why she made such a decision: accidents happen all the time, and when they start leaving bruises, a fall pony is needed. Said bruises also just so happened to occur to the Elements of Harmony, pinnacles of Equestria and the one group of ponies Spitfire couldn’t brush off. Spitfire needed somepony on the chopping block stat, and the mare who started the tornado seemed like the best candidate. Never mind the Elements had no business flying that close to a training site. It’s Wonderbolts property, after all. Would some silly colt flying into the Rainbow Factory be considered a poor soul when he fell into a color vat, or would they get rightfully scolded for going into such a dangerous environment? The Elements had status in this lovely nation, however, and their perception of events overrode Lightning’s in all degrees. The big thing to consider was her: Rainbow Dash, the mare Lightning had once considered a kindred spirit, a fast-flying daredevil who wouldn’t let anypony stand in the way of her dreams. So enchanted by the mere opportunity of being on the Wonderbolts, she was willing to give up her usual ego and be Lightning’s wingpony. For the first few days, they were quite a team. Flying faster and higher than the rest of the cadets. They couldn’t be stopped. Lightning should’ve seen the signs: the little stink in Dash’s eyes every time Lightning outdid another record, the little lags behind Lightning growing with each lap, the frequent visits to Spitfire after practice. All the signals were there, but Lightning Dust was blinded by the admiration. She couldn’t think of Dash as the conniving, vindictive, and most of all, jealous schemer she really was. Like all tales of jealousy, the guilty party had only to wait for the perfect time to strike. For Rainbow Dash, that was when the hot air balloon filled with her friends just so happened to pass by while Lightning did her controlled tornado. What convenient timing, Lightning thought with another gulp of cider. Lightning never outright accused Dash of orchestrating the incident, but with each drink in each bar, she began to wonder if Dash’s opportunism would stoop so low. She’d been real good about it, too. Made sure Spitfire saw her crocodile tears, mentioned her Element of Loyalty as loudly as she could to anypony in earshot, bloviated about how she couldn’t be in a group that let ponies be hurt so easily and didn’t care about its own cadets. If this was a movie awards ceremony, ol’ Dashie would’ve gotten Best Actress for certain. And like any great performance, Spitfire ate it up. In a few fleeting moments of sobriety, Lightning Dust thought that she may’ve been wrong. That these thoughts were just alcoholic delusions, paranoid whimsies of yet another inebriated session. However, there was one memory she knew beyond all her inebriated bouts was true: Rainbow Dash’s smile. She’d done it just after Spitfire ripped off the badge from Lightning’s chest, tearing the pristine uniform she’d worn with pride the past few days. She was practically naked in front of the other cadets, the symbol of her superiority and talent ripped off her body and thrown to the ground. She could feel all of their eyes on her, judging her for a misdemeanor blown into a felony. They’d forever judge her as the washout, the failure who’d gotten on the bad side of the Elements and suffered the consequences. It was then she saw it: that little smile coming out of the corner of Rainbow Dash’s mouth. It was stifled like it was a forlorn frown, a clear attempt to look like a gaze of regretful discipline instead of the malevolent smirk it was. She was still performing, showing everypony how sorry it was that it’d come to this and that poor Lightning Dust had to pay for her crimes. Lightning wasn’t fooled. She knew Dash wanted this, and she knew that she’d feel joy from it every single day of her life. When she closed her eyes to sleep, when she sat in some far off café with the special somepony she’d never deserve, when she stared into her children’s eyes out of appreciation that she’d produced something else in her own image. She’d be thinking about Lightning Dust and the pain she’d caused her, and she’d relish it for the rest of her days. “I’m tired of this,” Lightning said. “I’m out of here.” “Miracles do happen,” the bartender said with feigned joy. “Don’t forget the tip.” Lightning snorted and threw the bits beside the empty glasses. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” The bartender snatched the coins up like he worried somepony would nab them any second. Lightning chortled and started shambling towards the exit, situated right next to the corner booth where the two strangers lounged. One sat with a fluffy, white mane upon her head and dark purple fur covering her body. The other one seemed noticeably short, his legs hanging over the chair like a little filly. His orange body clashed with his bright blonde mane, like a low fire burned across his head and neck. “I swear, this place drags more than a river search,” the purple one groaned. “Yeah, I thought the Wonderbolts would be my ticket out of this dump,” the orange pegasus said. “Too bad it was way lamer than anywhere in Cloudsdale.” He took a sip of his drink before spitting it all over the table. “WHY IS THIS RUM?! I ASKED FOR GIN!” “Hey, keep it down!” the bartender hollered, shaking his hoof. “This is a quiet place!” “THEN SERVE THE RIGHT DRINKS, YOU STUPID NINCOMPOOP!” The bartender stood up and, instead of the slight pudge Lightning expected him to have, the stallion had a long row of muscles on his chest. The apron strained to stay tied to his body, and his legs similarly pulsated with thick tendons. “What’d you say, bud?” the bartender said, neck veins looking ready to pop. “Nothing,” the orange one grumbled. “That’s what I thought.” The muscles seemed to vanish once he disappeared back behind the bar, where he returned to polishing the vintage bottles behind him. Lightning Dust backtracked to the table. “Excuse me?” The two pegasi looked at her, a mixture of surprise and irritation upon their faces. “Yeah?” the orange one grunted. “You said you were in the Wonderbolts Academy?” Lightning asked. An uncharacteristically genuine interest filled her voice. “Yeah. What’s it to you?” Lightning gave a small grin. “Nothing. Just glad to see somepony else knows the truth about that racket.” “You’re telling me,” the purple pegasus said. “You can’t do anything over there. Go a little too fast or bonk one barrel, and zoom! The Captain gets on your case.” The orange pegasus snarled. “I don’t even know why they kicked me out. I had the best attitude in my class!” The purple one laughed. “You’ll remember when you’re sober, Shorty.” “Yeah. Name’s Lightning Dust, by the way.” “Rolling Thunder,” the purple one said, then pointed to the smaller one. “He’s Short Fuse.” “I CAN INTRODUCE MYSELF!” Short Fuse hollered, sending his rum toppling to the floor. “That’s it!” the bartender said, jumping over the bar and flexing his muscles once again. “Since you punks like shouting and spilling booze all over the place, you can do it outside!” He pointed toward the door. “Get out, or it won’t just be a hangover you’ll feel in the morning!” Short Fuse readied himself for a lunge, but Rolling Thunder put a hoof to his shoulder. “Alright, mate,” Rolling Thunder said, pulling out a number of bits. “Don’t get your knickers in a knot.” The bartender’s eyes didn’t leave them until all three stumbled outside into the night, quiet buildings floating all around them. The second they felt cold clouds swirling under their hooves, the bar door slammed and locks clacked in quick succession. “Must be one hay of a stick jammed up his flank.” Rolling Thunder said with a grin. “Yeah,” Lightning said, the first true smile since her Academy days coming across her face. “So, where we gonna crash?” Short Fuse grumbled. “Lousy rum makes me tired.” “There’s a hotel down the next block with pretty good rates,” Lightning explained. “Not the best, but it’ll look like the Ritz with how many drinks we’ve had.” “Suits me alright,” Rolling Thunder chortled. “Though Shorty will have to keep his mouth shut if we got loud neighbors. Got kicked out of our last hotel because of his yowling.” “I told you,” Short Fuse growled. “I can’t sleep if it’s loud, and I’m not losing sleep because other ponies don’t know when to shut up.” Lightning Dust laughed, the trio now flying down the cloud avenue stretching before them. “You two got some good spunk. No wonder the Wonderbolts couldn’t handle you.” “What about you?” Fuse said, the irritation in his voice starting to fade into a vague drowsiness. “What’d you get kicked out for?” She stared ahead into the misty evening, out at the large sports coliseum and weather factory in the distance. Then she just shook her head. “I’ll tell you when I’m sober.”
Familiar FacesFOUR YEARS LATER “...and that’s all, folks!” The announcer called out. “Thanks for coming out, but these daredevils need to have a little rest! Tell your friends, and be sure to stop by for tomorrow's show!” Lightning Dust couldn’t help but grin under her helmet. Another day, another defiance of death, another round of applause from the adoring masses. It was enough to make a mare want to thank everypony that got her there. Of course, Lightning Dust only had one pony to thank for that, and she saw her every day in the mirror. With that in mind, she flew down to the tents behind the death contraptions. She’d find a place to sit down, relax, chat it up with her crewmates and plan the next big- She saw the pony’s tail first, sticking out between the tents. The distinctive rainbow pattern shot through her mind like a brain freeze. It didn’t do anything, not even flicking in the minor breeze blowing through the Washout camp, but Lightning’s fur still stood as if she could hear a predator stalking her through the grass. Maybe it’s just a distant relative, she thought. Or some rando who just happened to have the same hair. The brief moment of hope died as she got closer, seeing the coat’s distinctive cyan coloring and the flat mane perked along the head. Not even the cutie mark allowed denial, her flank spouting a cloud emitting a rainbow lightning bolt. Rainbow Dash was here, and she was talking to the other Washouts. For a second, Lightning didn’t think anything. Her brain simply couldn’t process her torturer was right here, right now, right where Lightning Dust had to be. The hatred began to creep back the more the rainbow tail swished in the air, gleefully unaware of the fact Lightning Dust was right behind her. I should do it now, she thought. I should just zoom in and land on her. Say it was an accident, say I didn’t mean to bend your wing that direction and ruin your Wonderbolt career. It’d be just an unfortunate accident, one of those karmic justices that surprise even the pony on karma’s good side. What modicum of self-control she had kept her from launching forward right then and there, and she gently floated to the ground. “Oh, hey there!” Rainbow Dash said. Another bout of confusion filled Lightning Dust’s mind. How can she talk to me so casually? she thought, an annoyance tinting her voice. Did she think we were still buddies? Then she remembered: her helmet was still on. Combined with the Washout jumpsuit, nopony could recognize her. “Me and my friend here just wanted to say how much we enjoyed the show!” Dash pointed to the small pegasus standing next to her, a little orange thing with a purple mane. “Y-You guys totally rocked!” the little filly cheered. For a moment, Lightning Dust considered just nodding. Just keep the helmet on, let her never know she enjoyed the work of the mare she ruined. There’d be an irony there Lightning could savor for the rest of her days. No, that just wouldn’t do. Rainbow Dash needed to see that she’d been wowed by her victim, that Lightning could produce something so beautiful even Dash’s immoral soul could only gape in wonder at it. Alright then, she thought. She took off her helmet, a slight scowl on her face. Dash gasped. “Lightning Dust!” she growled. “Rainbow Dash!” Lightning Dust growled back. She gave hers a little tone, as if she’d actually been surprised. “You two know each other?” the little filly said. “Know her?! She threw me out of the Wonderbolts!” Lightning Dust said through gritted teeth. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t deserve it!” Rainbow said, lips pursed. So, she was still putting on a show. The good ol’ ‘She Deserved It, Not Me’ spiel. Still putting in for that performance award nopony would ever notice but Lightning. No, I have to change tactics, Lightning thought. Trying to shame her wouldn’t work. How do you shame somepony who hurts anypony without a care in the world? Just play it cool. Don’t even act fazed that she ruined your dream. “And it was the best thing to ever happen to me!” Lightning Dust said smirking. “Yea-! Huh?” Rainbow Dash said. “Because I got thrown out of the Wonderbolts, I was able to go and start my own group with these knuckleheads.” She pointed to her teammates, now massaging one another. “Um…Okay,” Rainbow Dash said. Good, Lightning thought. She’s getting confused. Let’s keep this going. “In fact, I really should be thanking you, Rainbow. None of this could’ve happened had we not made that little twister and gotten my creative juices flowing.” Dash’s eyes narrowed. “That ‘little twister’ almost made my friends fall out of the sky.” “Alright, I made a mistake,” Lightning Dust said. The acknowledgement made her want to shiver, but she kept her face calm. “Either way, we’re both pretty happy. I’ve got my daredevil group, and you’re up there with your flyboys. Splits even, yeah?” “I…I guess.” This was rich, Lightning thought. Dash couldn’t react with the usual indignity, the usual moral presumptuousness she had as one of the Elements. Now she just had to admit she got what she wanted and leave it at that. “And what about you, kid? What’s your connection to old Dashie?” “Oh, she’s my sister, only she’s not my actual sister, but we’re pretty much sisters anyway and oh my Celestia you were so amazing!” she squealed. Lightning grinned. “Tell me something I don’t know.” “Do you think I could one day get into the Washouts?” “Aw, you’re sweet, but part of our shtick is that we only take those who couldn’t get into the Wonderbolts.” “Ooh, ooh, what if I went to the Wonderbolts and failed there?” “What?” Rainbow Dash said. “C’mon, Scoots, nopony ever fails the Wonderbolts on purp-“ “My wings aren’t too good, so it’d probably come naturally! I could be ready here by tomorrow!” “That’s it!” Rainbow said. “I’m taking you to see the Academy right now.” With that, she grabbed the filly’s hoof and flew up in the sky. “Say hi to Spitfire for me!” Lightning Dust snarked. She wandered back towards the tents, another smile plastered across her face.
FailuresThe hot bath managed to smooth Lightning’s pores far better than she remembered. The natural steam soaked deep into her skin, and her breath seemed to flow into her lungs as easily as a fish could suck in water. Maybe it was something in this Ponyville water that made it so comfortable. No, she knew deep down what the spring’s secret ingredient was, the intangible factor soothing her into near-sleep: revenge. It shouldn’t have felt good, like every teacher and foster parent told her back in school. It should’ve been shameful, a demonstration of Lightning’s ever-slipping morality and liability to play dirtier with each passing day. Even now, she could hear one of several Princesses cooing in her ear about forgiveness and not letting grudges destroy yourself. None of them saw the look on Rainbow Dash’s face in those moments, when little Scootaloo promised to fail the Wonderbolts and come to Lightning’s team. It was the kind of revenge that should’ve been so minor, so unremarkable, that Dust shouldn’t have even given it a second thought. Yet it was so delicious, so good to see the normal smugness in Dash’s face deflate into pure anger and hurt when she saw her little friend didn’t want to be like her anymore. That Scootaloo wanted to be like the mare who’d triumphed despite all of Dash’ machinations. Rainbow Dash had failed in the most important spot she’d claimed to have the utmost authority over: loyalty. A certain nibbling doubt began to fill her mind, some petty morality drilled into her by the same flight coaches and school teachers that told her to slow down. “This isn’t worth the trouble,” it said. “Dash is off in her miserable corner of the world, you are in your own. Keep it that way. Stay away from her and the little one. Let this little revenge be enough for your life.” Just then, Rolling Thunder and Short Fuse walked into the tent, their uniforms off and towels wrapped around their mid-sections. Thunder’s towel hung tight against her body, while Short’s hung lopsided off his right side. “Hiya, chief,” Thunder cracked. “Yeah!” Short Fuse replied with a wave. “Great job out there, boss! Haven’t seen a crowd that excited since the Manehattan gig!” “They were pretty into it,” Lightning Dust said with a smug expression, watching the other two remove their towels and descend into the steaming tub. “Aaaaah,” Thunder sighed. “That’s right nice on my banged up leg.” “Just make sure you don’t make that mistake ever again, Thunder,” Dust said. “Next time you may get more than just a scratch.” “Consider it locked in the vault, chief.” Thunder lifted her leg out of the water and wiggled it around. “Hard to forget a bang-up like that.” Lightning Dust nodded and closed her eyes, leaning her head on the tub’s rim. She began to drift off into a far-off darkness, the bubbles rolling up her skin. “Hey boss?” Short Fuse said. “Yeah?” Dust groaned, eyes still closed. “I just want to say thanks.” “For what?” Lightning asked. “For all...this.” The splashing water indicated to Lightning he was waving his arms around the tent. “For getting us together. Without you, we would’ve never gone anywhere.” Lightning Dust looked up and expected to see Short Fuse gritting his teeth in barely contained annoyance, or some other sign his thanks came as a reluctant attempt to suck up to his boss. However, all she saw was warm admiration in his eyes, the first time in a while she’d seen him this way. Thunder similarly took on an appreciative look, nodding her head to the rhythm of the popping spring bubbles. “Hey, don’t mention it,” Dust said. “We're all outcasts from the Wonderbolts. We need to stick together, you know?” “Sure, but most ponies would have started a lame fan club or some other stupid thing,” Thunder said. “You got us here in the Washouts, playing sold out crowds and drawing just as much attention as the Wonderbolts. That’s more than most failures would’ve gotten.” “WHO YOU CALLING A FAILURE?” Short Fuse blurted. Thunder recoiled somewhat, and Dust did her best to stifle a laugh. “Fuse is right,” Dust said. “OF COURSE I’M RIGHT! I’M- Really?” “Sure! We’re a lot of things: Dropouts. Hard headed. A bit too quick to fight. We’re even what the Wonderbolts called us: washouts. But the one thing we most certainly aren’t is failures!” She swung her hooves out to the tent’s opening. “You think failures could be turning out crowds like these? That failures would have lasted a fraction of the time we’ve been doing this?” “No!” the other two chimed in agreement. Lightning smiled. “Then we’re not failures, regardless of what anypony, Wonderbolt or otherwise, says!” They both nodded, wide smiles on their faces. “Speeches like this remind me of why we started following you, chief,” Thunder said with a smile. “And I thought it was because of my sunny personality,” Dust said with an equally wide smirk. “That too!” Short Fuse said. With that, the group all leaned their heads back and let the water flow over them. A few contented sighs came out every now and then, but nothing else disturbed the peaceful quiet rushing over them. See? Lightning told the little voice. I’m doing alright. I’m helping these two. I’m helping all those ponies out there, giving them a show they’ll never forget. I’m the good guy here, helping others while Rainbow Dash is trying to keep her sister to herself and make everything about her. If she comes back, I can play a few more games with her. She’ll survive a few more runs in the dryer. I know I did.
The DecisionTHE NEXT DAY “Lightning Dust!” a small voice called out. Lightning focused all of her strength on not falling out of her wooden chair, though the erasable marker still fell out of her mouth. She thrust forward, catching herself on the whiteboard drawn with vague markings and doodles for the day’s stunts. Lightning gave a relieved sigh at the marker landing on the ground. The stunt plans would look lousy with a squiggle running right through them, Lightning thought. She turned around and found herself staring at a little orange filly, wiggling in the tent’s open flap. “Oh, hey there. Scootaloo, right?” Lightning said. The filly shook her head up and down as fast as a lightning bolt. “Come by to cheer us on again?” She asked the filly. “Better than that! I’ve come to join up with the Washouts!” Scootaloo exclaimed, her wings buzzing in excitement. Lightning couldn’t help but snigger, and a confused look crossed Scootaloo’s face. “What’s so funny?” the filly asked. “I’m sorry, kid. It’s just that…I’ve never seen a pony so eager to join us, and I’ve seen some really enthusiastic ponies on tour, believe me.” “Well, they’re nowhere near me in fan levels!” Scootaloo claimed, proudly puffing out her chest. “I’ll bet,” Lightning said, smirking. “So can I? Can I? Can I?” Scootaloo hopped up and down, her body flinging every way it could without fully leaving the ground. “Look, Scoots, I’m happy you’re so enthusiastic about us. Nopony likes it more than I do to hear about how awesome we are.” The filly’s eyes lit up in joy. “But you got to remember that we only take those who wash out of the Wonderbolts.” “Oh, I already have!” “Huh?” I know Spitfire takes walk-ons every now and then, Lightning thought. But how the hay did she even get into the Academy under twenty-four hours? “Well, I mean, I didn’t technically wash out.” Scootaloo’s hoof scratched the back of her head. “I didn’t even really join, but with wings like these, I’m never going to even get into the qualifying rounds.” She buzzed her little wings, only getting off the ground for a scant few seconds. “I see what you mean,” Dust said, a frown on her face. “Flappers like those probably wouldn’t even let you get past the initial exams.” “So can I join? Please?” Lightning sighed. “Look, kid, I know this means a lot to you, but what is something that every single Washout has done during the show?” “Stunts!” “Something even simpler than that.” “Um…” Her face dropped. “Flying?” “Bingo. Almost every one of our stunts deal with us flying against different obstacles. We were Wonderbolts tryouts, after all.” A look of sympathy crossed her face. “And if you can’t join the Wonderbolts because you can’t fly, what do you think your chances are out here?” Scootaloo’s eyes began to fill with tears. “B-But I thought…” “I know it’s tough, kid. I wanted to be a Wonderbolt so bad when I was your age. Heck, a part of me still does. Sometimes though, we can’t do what we want because of things beyond our control. It took me a long time to learn that. You’re lucky to be learning that now.” “I…I understand…” Scootaloo said between sniffles. “I’ll just…just go now.” Dust nodded. “You have fun during the show, kid.” Scootaloo started walking out, but stopped halfway through the tent flap. “Don’t tell Rainbow I was here, okay?” Dust’s ears perked up. “Why? She still sore about yesterday?” “More than that. She spent the past few hours trying to convince me to keep trying for the Wonderbolts and exercising my wings.” A dry chuckle escaped Dust’s lips. “That sounds like Dash, all right. I’m shocked she even survived training with all the stars in her eyes seeing the Wonderbolts in the flesh.” “Yeah,” Scootaloo said. “She even tried to get me to stop trying to see you guys.” For a few moments, both of them were silent. Scootaloo wondered if she’d said something wrong, that Lightning would tell her to get out and never come back. This could not be further from the truth. A gift, Lightning thought. A pure, unadulterated gift. Rainbow Dash’s own sister in everything but flesh, standing here and begging me to take her. Why haven’t I hopped on this before? This wouldn’t just be revenge; this was uber-revenge, the kind of vengeance that only happened once in ten lifetimes. The plan would be simple: Let Scootaloo into the Washouts, and watch Dash squirm as her little sister found another big sister to follow. That little voice couldn’t help but speak up. “No, stop,” it ordered. “You got your digs into Rainbow Dash. You got the idolization of her sister. You’ve even got greater loyalty from your teammates than Rainbow will ever get from her friends. Go any further, and there will be things you can’t control. This little filly won’t last a day with these stunts. She’ll get hurt, all because you couldn’t let your vendetta die.” This little filly… Lightning took a deep breath. “Hey kid?” she cooed. “Yeah?” Scootaloo said, trying her best to keep the tears from showing. “How good are you on that scooter?” The filly’s eyes went wide. “Y-You mean…?” Lightning grinned. “Yep. Grab your speeder and get a jumpsuit on. Looks like we’re debuting a brand new Washout this afternoon.” Before she could even blink, Lightning found herself in an iron hug. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” Scootaloo blubbered, her tears streaming now in happiness. “I won’t let you down!” “I know,” Lightning said, patting Scootaloo’s back. “Now get going! We’ve got a show to do!” Scootaloo disengaged her hug and threw a salute. “Yes, ma’am!” She ran out the tent as fast as any Wonderbolt could, the entrance flap snapping in the air. Lightning chuckled and went back to the whiteboard, twirling the black marker in her hoof. She began to draw the hill above the stunt grounds and Scootaloo sitting atop it on her scooter. The flaming wagons burned below her, ready to be jumped. Mmm, Lightning thought. May need a bit more propulsion. A few scribbles later, a crude rocket sat strapped to the scooter, double the size of a pony. Lightning leaned back and gave a complimentary sigh. “Perfect,” she said. She stared at the little stick figure sitting on the hill, small and blank-faced. Her hooves gripped the scooter with an excitement Lightning couldn’t help but appreciate. She’s tough, Lightning thought. She’ll get through the Wagon Jump, the Jaws of Doom, the Smasher, all of them with barely a scratch. Heck, she may even become the second-best Washout. For a few moments, she almost believed it.
