There’s long been rumours as to how, exactly, rainbows are made in Equestria.
Rainbow Dash mused over the various theories she had heard over the years, from the enslaved unicorns to the shamefully hidden royal siblings, and scoffed. It was far simpler than any of that.
Rainbows came from Pegasi.
Specifically, it was the magical pigment that made up the colours of a pony’s coat and mane; the pigment that reacted to life events and formed the cutie marks, shaping their personality, hopes, and desires. They called this pigment Spectra, and it was extracted from the undesirables of Cloudsdale. Pegasi who deigned to live in the city and call themselves citizens had to pass through the education system, culminating in a final test of skill to prove they could fly. Those who were unable to utilize their gift of wings properly would be covertly packed up (under the guise of being exiled), shipped away to the Rainbow Factory, and ground up into magical liquid which could paint the sky.
It was for this particular reason that Rainbow Dash was pacing the halls of the factory, absentmindedly avoiding low hanging pipes and cables that had long fallen from their fastenings, the varied staff of the Upper Rainbow Factory cringing and ducking out of her way as she passed. She usually worried about it in some way or another. Making sure that they had enough raw resources for the month ahead, ensuring the bribes and secrecy were well maintained, and keeping the factory running smoothly were all part of her job description, after all. Today, however, she worried for a different reason.
Today was the day Scootaloo was taking her flight test.
Rainbow Dash slipped out the side door next to the large overhead gate, stepping onto the loading dock. A black carriage sat sunken slightly into the clouds, where two burly Pegasi were wiping it down and checking the harnesses. A third stallion sat at the edge of the dock, his hindlegs dangling in the high winds, cradling a cigarette in the tips of his wing. Dash sat down next to him as he took a long draw on the smoke, holding it in for a moment before lazily opening his mouth and letting the cold early-morning gust take the exhalation away for him.
“Morning, boss. Thought you’d be trying to get some sleep before your shift tonight.”
She wrapped her wings about herself, shielding the cold from her body. Staring out at the cresting sunlight as it creeped above the cloud horizon, soaking the factory in blood-tinged light, she sighed.
“Well, I was, but…”
Another puff.
“Something wrong?”
Her nose twinged at a stench of burning tobacco, and she glanced at him.
“You know, Patches, that stuff isn’t good for your health.”
He flicked some ashes off into the abyss and smirked. “Not much around here is though, eh boss?”
“Fair enough,” Dash shrugged. “Where do you even get those?”
“Canteen.”
“We don’t stock them.”
“No, but the Lower Factory workers do.” He brought his wingtips to his lips again, the burning end of the smoke dangerously close to the faded and mangy feathers. “Not that I told you that, o’course.”
She shrugged again. “I don’t care how you spend your bits. They’ve gotta go somewhere, I guess. Just figured since you’re so close to twenty-five years…”
Patches flicked the butt away, watching it tumble away into the wind without saying anything. “You worry too much about me. I appreciate getting cart duty, letting me see some of the outside world a bit before something does me in and all, but I can take care of myself. What about you? What’s got our fearless leader so occupied?”
“Business,” Dash answered sharply, hoping the tone would end the conversation. It did, and they sat together while the sun rose higher, the blanket of red light easing into a more natural yellow as it did so. After a few minutes, Patches groaned up to his hooves, stretched his back with a series of pops, and then stepped into the back of the carriage.
“Right, well, whatever ‘business’ has got you so bothered, clear your head, eh? We got another busy night tonight, what with the new high school on the west end running tests now.”
Dash rolled her eyes and flicked her wings out, ignoring him. Dedicated employee or not, she was still his superior.
The cart lifted off, kicked up into the sky under the effort of the two other stallions. Rainbow Dash gave a quick salute with a tap of her hoof to her head, still not entirely there, and then continued to sit with only the wind for company.
She didn’t know how much longer it had been before she heard the side door open and click shut, and when her attention caught up with her ears she turned to see a set of deep burgundy legs next to her.
“Hide.”
“You’re up early, Rainbow.”
“Up late, more like.” She rubbed a hoof over her face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion that was tugging at the corner of her eyes and mouth. She felt greasy, as if she hadn’t showered in a week.
“It’s that kid, right? The one you’ve been raising?”
She dropped her head a bit, nodding, and Doctor Atmosphere sat down on his haunches, giving her back a light pat. “Can’t imagine why you’d be worried. She’s had the best teacher in the entire city. Is there actually a reason to be concerned?”
“No, no, of course not,” Dash said, giving a weak smile to her colleague. “We’ve run through the exact trial like a thousand times now, and she hasn’t made a mistake. I’m just… I dunno, Hide. I’ve been dreading this day for years now, ever since my promotion.”
“I feel bad for you. Honestly, had the Board known that you were raising her, you might have been passed over for consideration. I don’t think they like putting ponies in this position.”
“I didn’t lie to them.”
“I know. I know.” Another pat on the back. “It’s just unusual. Not a lot of adoptions in Cloudsdale, for uh… obvious reasons.”
“Not helping.”
He grunted.
“I want to do the exchange tonight,” Dash said, to which Atmosphere looked at her queerly.
“Even more unorthodox. You’re high profile, Rainbow, and it’s not wise to risk being associated with the transfer—”
“I’ve already told Gauge I’d be relieving him. He’ll be on standby tonight for processing instead. I’m going, Hide.”
“Your colours aren’t exactly subtle, Rainbow.”
“I’ve already tested the dye, it hides the banding, and I’ve got my own suit.” She shook her mane out, running a hoof idly through it. “I’ll be fine. I won’t even speak, promise.”
Atmosphere grimaced at her, but said nothing.
“I need to see. I need to. I need to see that she’s not there… I won’t be home for when she gets home after passing, I’ll be here all night, but I don’t want to have to wait until it’s two in the morning to find out she did it. I-I need to know, Hide.”
Atmosphere stood up and turned around, walking back towards the door. A quick bit of jabbing later and an electronic lock buzzed loudly, unlatching it. As he popped it open, he turned slightly and spoke.
“Steady voice, Rainbow Dash. It is unbecoming of a Director to cry, at least in public. Save it for the nights you can’t sleep.”
“Isn’t that all of them?”
“All the same,” Atmosphere said, slipping back inside the factory.
The rest of the day had gone about as roughly as Rainbow Dash expected. She paced in her office, staring at the clock. At noon, Scootaloo’s class would fly to the coliseum for their test, which would begin at one. She flipped through a roster, nestled neatly in a manilla folder that had been set on her desk at some point in the last week, reading the names.
Eighteen foals would have their mettle tested today, and not all of them would succeed. There was never a class that had completely passed, not in any of the records Rainbow Dash had browsed through over the years. It confused her as to why; it really wasn’t a particularly hard set of trials to overcome.
Clear the clouds. Fly through the hoops. Fall and catch yourself. Complete your citizenship, and join the Flock.
She reached behind her into an open filing cabinet and pulled out an old dusty folder, wiping it off roughly before flipping it open and reading. It was a smaller class, from about a decade ago. Not one she knew anypony from, nor one she was party to helping process.
Six entrants. One failure. The reason listed: unable to complete the hoop section due to stunted wings.
She flipped the page, examining the report from the other academy that had run their test that month. It had twelve entrants, with three failures.
One panicked and opened their wings in the fall section far too soon. The next had been too underweight and couldn’t clear the clouds. The third had passed every trial, almost; they had opened their wings on time in the fall section, but fell through to the cloud regardless.
Because of stunted wings.
She closed the folder and shoved it back into the drawer, slamming it shut.
It didn’t matter that Scootaloo’s wings never fully developed, though. It couldn’t matter. Rainbow Dash had seen her complete the trial hundreds of times in a row, every bit of it, training her to improve and strengthen her skills with every opportunity. Four days a week she had brought Scootaloo to her makeshift arena, running her through it again and again, making sure she would ace it even despite extreme exhaustion. Five days a week over the last six months, just in case… and six days a week for the last month.
It was no secret that Scootaloo was starting to resent her for it—though ‘starting’ was probably incorrect—, and Dash sighed as she thought about it. Scootaloo knew it was because Dash loved her, though, wanted her to succeed despite her disability. If only Rainbow Dash could tell her why it was so important to her… Well, she could, soon. She would hire Scootaloo, training her to be an engineer. She was already skilled with tools and seemed to innately understand simple mechanics, and so even if Dash hadn’t been the Executive Director, the rest of the Board would likely have hired the filly the moment she became a mare, and a legal citizen of Cloudsdale. And once that was done, it would all be made clear to Scootaloo why Dash had run her ragged, had been so stringent…
Why she had gotten so mad when Scootaloo had skipped her classes, spending time with that damned colt.
She felt the anger building in her, lingering rage at the foal boiling up from some reservoir in her stomach, and grimaced while trying to control it. He would probably fail his exam today, a thought she took great pleasure in.
How much restraint it had taken Rainbow Dash to not lash out when Scootaloo first brought him over after school just a few years ago! He had complained about the culture here. Said it made him feel wrong, the idea that Pegasi were somehow better than other races, and that they all had to be perfect.
She sat back, listening to the hum of the factory as it leaked through the door to her office, grateful for the bit of relief it had brought her from the worry and the anger.
He should have felt wrong, as he was wrong, Dash thought, flaring her wings out in pride. Pegasi always had been the better pony race. Without weather, the world was nothing. It didn’t matter if the other races didn’t realize that, because it was true all the same. Food could be grown, admittedly with more effort, without Earth Ponies. Magic could be replaced by machines, and every year the Corporation was finding and funding more technology that could assist the race. But weather… weather was not something that could be replicated or substituted; it was essential, and so then were the Pegasi.
She looked at the clock again, feeling the burdensome weight of worry return to her as she saw the time. Scootaloo was last on the list for testing, and right now she would be taking her test. After that, the failures would be loaded up onto the cart and taken to the rendezvous point, out over the Undiscovered West.
She would have to be there before them, and so with one last glance at the test schedule and a set of deep breaths, she stood up and grabbed the container of tail dye.
It was almost freezing, and Rainbow Dash grumbled softly to herself high above the tangled woods of the Undiscovered West. She had soared higher up, punching together a small cloud to sit on from the icy haze that hovered over the tangled and primeval forest, and shivered. The obscuring suit and mask she had donned helped insulate her a tiny bit from the cold, but not enough. Her feathers were wrapped in the cloak, and while this had helped her wings stay warmer than the rest of her body, she grumbled that she was not able to wrap her downy feathers around herself and stay warm.
Down below, the other worker had taken to perching on one of the taller trees, happy to keep her distance from her boss. Dash wondered if Blaze thought this was just some random inspection, but shook her head. Blaze had nothing to fear; she had already earned the trust of the Board of Directors to be allowed outside the factory on resource acquisition days.
Despite her self-chastisement for having flown out into the cold night unnecessarily, she was glad for the frigid waves that shook through her. Each stinging gust pulled her mind away from the gnawing worry for Scootaloo and into the present, and it didn’t take long before she was rolling her eyes at herself.
“Can’t believe I’ve come all the way out here. Hide’s right, there’s no way she’d fail. Not after everything I’ve done for her. Not her, either. She’s always been there for me, as much as I have for her.”
She looked up, the moon hardly a sliver in the night sky. It might as well have been gone for the scant amount of light that reflected off the lunar surface, though of course this too was designed. She chuckled at the memory of her orientation into rainbow production, remembering how completely struck she had been to learn that the reason the flight tests were held on new moons was not, strictly speaking, due to tradition. It had become a tradition, yes, as the Corporation and the city hall was happy to let happen, but it was all purely practical.
Black suits, black carriages, black nights; taking the black marks of Cloudsdale’s offspring behind black clouds, to be blacked out from all records and futures and dreams.
And all to make such vibrant colours.
Her poetic musing was interrupted by a sharp whistle from below, and she blinked in confusion before remembering where she was. She glanced down at Blaze, who was starting to circle up into the sky, pointing to the east where a slightly darker shadow hovered on the horizon. Following the hoof and seeing the carriage, Dash gulped hard, steeling herself.
The few minutes it took for the carriage to get to them was agonizing, and she breathed deeply and slowly, using the meditation techniques she had been counselled on when first promoted.
“Remember,” she mentioned to her colleague, “no talking. Not tonight.”
The mare saluted before facing the two stallions who had pulled up a short ways away. One of them unhooked himself and swung around to the back, and Blaze quickly took the place of them, keeping the carriage afloat.
Rainbow Dash flew slowly around to the back while Patches undid the lock. He nodded at her in recognition and then slid the door open before moving out of the way.
“...fun wherever the Tartarus you’re sent to,” the massive worker said, his thick accent rumbling in Rainbow Dash’s stomach. He hopped out, falling into the air a bit before nodding at Rainbow Dash and moving off to the side to stretch.
Rainbow Dash didn’t see the salute, though.
She wasn’t looking to see it.
She didn’t want to see anything.
There, huddled in the back corner of the carriage, shivering in the chill air, were three foals. A small yellow one with a green mane and bandaged wings on one side. That idiot brown colt with the red mane on the other. And Scootaloo, there in the middle, sitting still, her face stoic and stubborn, but eyes deeply steeped in fear.
Those eyes shifted to Rainbow Dash’s and settled, staring unblinkingly into her.
All thought left the mare’s body. It had to be a nightmare. Some drug-induced fantasy. She had to have been laying on her back in the factory somewhere, bleeding out from a laceration caused by a ruptured windline, hallucinating…
Scootaloo didn’t seem to recognize her yet, and Dash slammed the door closed without saying anything, leaving the three foals in total darkness. She snapped the lock shut, her hooves trembling. When she flew over to the other side and slipped through the harness, the worker next to her took one look at her face before gasping and snapping her head straight forward.
Rainbow Dash took a deep breath and then nodded, kicking off into the air towards Cloudsdale.
The familiar thrilling rush of flight came to her as they soared over the plains of Equestria, the tingling sensation in her feathers speeding down her wings with each gust that rippled them. The exhilarant rush was met awkwardly with a cold, growing numbness in her spine, and her eyes winced in non-existent pain as she added this discrepant feeling on top of all her other confused musings.
Who was that filly she had seen in the carriage? Not Scootaloo, surely? But it was. No matter how badly she didn’t want it to be the case, she couldn’t deny what her eyes had seen.
Despite everything Dash had done for her, Scootaloo had failed her test. The thought stung in her head like a needle through her pupil, and tears started to well up in her eyes before she sniffed hard and wiped them, flicking the drops off over the uninhabited hills near Cloudsdale.
They landed the carriage unceremoniously, letting it bounce to a quick stop on the loading bay. They hauled the carriage in quickly, and Dash unstrapped herself from the harness and started to race away before the door had even begun to close. She slammed into another pony who had been walking towards the cart, ready to begin their processing, and only when a hoof wrapped around her neck and yanked her backwards did she realize it was Atmosphere.
“Did you hear me?”
She shook her head, not really staring at him. The whole trip back thoughts had raced through her mind; memories of Scootaloo standing up for Dash when her friends had accused her of poor character, memories of flying together with the filly, memories of raising her as a sister with more love than had ever been shown to either of them; but now… Now, with Atmosphere before her, shaking her withers, she couldn’t bring herself to think.
“W… what?”
Hide frowned. “...Ah. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry, R- uh, boss.” He loosened his grip on her shoulders and gave her a consoulate pat on the back. “Did you, er, I mean to say… I can take care of tonight. If you’d like. Let you know when it’s done.”
She blinked slowly, and then shook her head again, pulling away from his grip. At his compassion and care, a single thought had found its way into her mind, and she latched onto it in desperation.
“...No. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Rainbow Dash looked at the carriage as the security workers got into position, liquid-thunder prods prepped and ready.
“She’s… she’s just a failure, Hide. Just... a failure...” she whispered, slowly taking off into the air.
He watched her leave, the blackened tail zipping out of sight as Rainbow Dash headed to the second floor, staring at where she had been for quite a while.
Behind him he heard talking, grunts from the security workers and chatter from what must have been the failures.
“Right then,” he said to himself, before clearing his throat, patting his goatee down, and turning around, standing tall.
“Welcome, mules!”
She was sweating, hard, but couldn’t understand why. Every step along the scaffolding next to the other Directors ran shivers down her spine as damp hair slid along the lycra and bunched up in odd ways. The factory was cold, damnit, why was she sweating? Nothing was wrong, right?
Nothing was wrong. No, that was wrong. Something was wrong. She noticed her breathing was picking up pace and held it for a moment as another wave of sweat seemed to issue around her body.
She glanced backwards, the movement jostling something loose in her brain and unleashing one hell of a migraine, but she bit her lip hard to keep from wincing in front of the Board. It felt like a kaleidoscope was churning in her eyes, shredding the insides up with every non-euclidian movement of the vision, and through the warped blindness she could see steam rising from her back.
She was steaming.
Nothing was wrong, though.
Right?
No, that wasn’t right.
We’ve been here before.
She turned back, staring at the door, staring at the red light tucked away behind a cage, staring at the green bulb beneath it. She’d been here before. Her thoughts were slipping out of her ears, and she shook her head to try to organize them. The movement gained her only a knife’s slash through her temple, and she bit her lip again to keep from crying.
Strange how spit can taste like blood when you have a migraine.
She breathed in slowly, deeply, more than she needed to, and felt when her lungs were at their fullest that something else was wrong. Something was missing, some gap in her barrel, between her lungs and her back, above the stomach and below the throat. She tried to suck more air in but couldn’t, marvelling at the dense void that seemed to hover in her chest.
Another round of sweat.
“Are you okay?”
She let the breath loose at its own speed, deflating fast, and looked to her right. Snow Quill, the Director of Water Production, was squinting at her.
She wasn’t okay. Why wasn’t she okay? It was that gap, near her heart, had to be. How long had it been there? Time wasn’t moving right. She closed her eyes and thought back a few minutes. She had been speaking to Hide, and he had asked her if she was okay, and she was. But something had settled in her mind, an idea, a thought. It must have been acidic, corrosive, eating away at her, but what was it?
She’s just a failure.
Ah yes.
The realization seemed to bring about a sense of clarity and serenity. She was upset, of course she was, and she was right to be upset. Knowing this somehow lessened the impact; once she realized she was panicking, hurt, scared, and that she was allowed to feel such things, they decreased in intensity.
Yet again, Dash had placed her trust and love in another and had been betrayed.
The migraine pulsed at the word, and she winced. Betrayed, she thought again, the tinge of pain turning to anger.
For eight years Rainbow Dash had housed and fed Scootaloo. For eight years she had supported her in her decisions, helped her make the right decisions and given her the coolest life she could have thought of. For eight years, Rainbow Dash had worked extremely long hours at the Weather Corporation, the job tough, dangerous, demoralizing and deadly. Bruises and scars were hidden about her body, same as any other worker here. She had watched the only other ponies she considered friends get injured and die from the work, over and over, until she learned not to consider any colleague a friend anymore.
Scootaloo had been Rainbow Dash’s only friend then. It had been Scootaloo who supported her after her falling out with the Ponyville group. It was Scootaloo who had encouraged her to focus on her job to deal with the pain of that betrayal. It was Scootaloo who showed time and time again that Rainbow Dash was more than a hero, more than some celebrity icon, but a pony to be loved and appreciated, a friend, a sister.
And for those eight years, Rainbow Dash had repaid Scootaloo’s love with patience, comfort, and care. Provided her with an education, a fresh start for her to get new friends, endless training and practice sessions to help her pass the test even after all the hours working at the factory. She remembered the day she had come home after her last ‘friend’ had been immolated while changing a core in the lightning generators. She had cheered Scootaloo on as she raced in the Junior Flyer’s competition, and even consoled her with ice cream after she didn’t place, all without giving any indication of the maelstrom of grief and fear that raged in her heart.
Rainbow Dash had given Scootaloo everything, and Scootaloo had failed her test on purpose.
She had to have. With all the training, all the practice, Scootaloo could have done that flight course blindfolded. Dash knew this as Scootaloo had completed it blindfolded, a dozen times over. But why? Why would she fail it? Was she frustrated that she had run her so hard and did it out of spite? Was the filly planning this cruel humiliation all along? Or was it that fucking colt? He was in the carriage, too, and would have failed before her. Did she fail her test so she could be with him in imagined exile? She had given up because of a Cloudsdale hater?!
“Rainbow Dash?”
Doctor Atmosphere’s voice cut through the cacophony of thoughts and brought her back to reality, where she realized she had been breathing so hard she had been snorting.
“S-sorry, Hide,” she said, her mind emptying.
“Are you ready?”
Rainbow Dash looked at the door before them, noticing the red light had turned off and the green bulb was now lit up, signalling to the Directors that the last of the failures had been assembled in the Main Theatre Room. A numbness came over her, and the void in her heart seemed to fill with ice. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but she preferred the cold, uncaring taste to the jagged nothingness that had been there before.
“Yeah. Let’s get this over with,” she said, walking forward.
Like muscle memory, the procedure took over control of Rainbow Dash the moment she had walked into the room. Below her, to the right, the giant maw of the Pegasus Device—a medieval-looking assemblage of sheet metal and rainbow-stained glass tubes—lay open, the brilliant steel scythes nestled away in their sheaths, waiting to be turned on. Beyond it, a few dozen colts and fillies were huddled together, looking about in fear and confusion.
It was mainly confusion though that lined their faces. Fear hadn’t quite yet set in, only apprehension at most. This was the purpose of their procedure, of course. They had to be awake, and they had to be afraid. Only then would the magical energy in their bodies produce the most vibrant forms of Spectra. There was another aspect that would also increase the efficiency of their processing, but that came later.
Doctor Atmosphere walked up to a small podium set into the railing and cleared his throat before enunciating to the crowd.
Rainbow Dash wasn’t listening to him. She had heard it before, a hundred times over. Nothing about the speech was original or unique today; even his gestures had been practiced and perfected, all to elicit the desired emotions in their raw resources. She scanned out about the crowd, watching carefully to make sure none of the foals acted out of line. The security team would deal with them, but an extra set of eyes helped catch any of the more subtle acts of rebellion.
“How could Celestia or even Luna know about this and tolerate it? It’s slavery! It’s torture!”
She blinked, focusing on the light pink foal with the fancy academy uniform who had yelled at Atmosphere. She rolled her eyes. This failure was using anger as an outlet for fear, and would need to be addressed.
“I think you’ll find it’s more than that,” Rainbow Dash said, stepping forward while Atmosphere made way for her. She went into her short little history lesson, extolling the tale of how the Pegasi had been tasked to manufacture rainbows by the Crown. It was bullshit, of course. An aeon ago, the Pegasi engineers had indeed found an ingenious way to extract pigment from a pony. But they weren’t trying to make rainbows. They were experimenting with their test failures, figuring out the best way to rid Cloudsdale of any who might tarnish the image of their perfect pony species. That they could also earn bits off of it by selling rainbows to the rest of Equestria, well, that was just a delightful little bonus.
“...The conditions had to be right,” she finished, still staring down the pink filly with as much disdain as she could muster—and what disdain did she have, tonight of all nights.
“I don’t care how you justify this! This is wrong!”
Rainbow Dash frowned. It hadn’t worked, unfortunately; she was still getting mad. No worries. She was just getting to the juicy part. She went to speak and realized her mask was still on, and pulled it off to give a better view of her expressions.
“It had to be live ponies! Only in ponies, where magic and Spectra ran freely together!” She threw her head back and laughed maniacally, the exaggerated cackle all part of the show. “Only then could the Spectra be separated! And it was such a beautiful idea, such a wonderfully horrible idea. It worked so well; we could create exponentially more rainbows, of better quality, with real Spectra. And it finally gave us a way to prevent Cloudsdale from being tainted by all those horrible Pegasi that can't even fly!”
She laughed again, a real laugh, one that she actually felt. Most of the workers here didn’t particularly enjoy this aspect of the job, not at first, but once they recognized the value of their deeds, it could become exhilarating. To be given the chance to liberate Cloudsdale from those who might make it fall, so they could fly to ever grander heights, it was such a joyous thing to do!
“I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!”
What a familiar voice, Rainbow Dash thought. Her laugh cut off, interrupted by a confused ‘huh?’ that echoed in the sudden silence of the room. She dropped her head and stared at the direction of the shout, her eyes falling upon an orange and purple failure who was shaking and crying. Their eyes met, and once again the void in Rainbow’s chest returned, chewing up her insides.
“I thought… you loved me.”
The void did not last long, but it was not ice that returned. It was fire, anger, hatred. Memories of another betrayal in a long list of betrayals. As if how Dash had felt about this… failure would matter to her now, when it hadn’t just so few scant hours ago! Pure, seething hatred roiled and gurgled in her chest, and it spilled out of her mouth, the words coming without thought.
“I DID LOVE YOU! I tried so hard for you! I taught you everything I knew, in hopes you would pass your test! You had it in you, kid! I knew… I knew what they did here. Ever since I worked my way up here, got promoted to Director, all thanks to your urging. I learned a lot about this place. Why do you think I pushed you so hard to train? Got so mad when you skipped practice? How do you…”
She trailed off.
This was her sister. She did love her, didn’t she? She wasn’t about to throw her into a Pegasus Device after a single mista—
...But it wasn’t a mistake. It couldn’t have been. There was no way Rainbow Dash could imagine Scootaloo making a mistake. She shook her head, and the anger came flooding back into her.
“I tried, alright! It was up to you to save yourself! You didn’t just fail yourself. You didn’t just fail Cloudsdale. You failed me! You failed me! And that’s the worst thing you could have done. You aren’t just dead to Cloudsdale. You’re dead to me!”
She realized her eyes were closed and snapped them back open, tears streaming down her face. Snow and River—the other Director—had stepped back cautiously from her, their faces curious but otherwise neutral. Hide was only shaking his head lightly, watching the display.
Below, Scootaloo was leaning on her colt friend, huddled under a wing. The colt glared at Rainbow Dash as if his stare could somehow shield the filly from the horrific realities of the world.
She had heard the expression “seeing red” before. She had been angry before, raving mad at times; managing an expanding company was hardly a relaxing or easy job. But only now, for the first time, did she truly understand the phrase. It was as if her pupils had ruptured, as if every vein in her eyes had burst at the same time. Fire filled her vision, and she knew immediately what she had to do.
“You can’t have happiness. You ruined me. Now I’ll ruin you. Workers! The brown one, there! Him first!”
She stepped a hoof back, calming her breathing and starting to see again. Doctor Atmosphere had given a quick signal with a wing, and another employee on the opposite scaffolding had begun operating the Device. The familiar bassy revving of the engines within brought more calm to Rainbow Dash. Her pet purred, and her nerves settled as she thought about the Device one more time.
It was the only thing in her life that had never let her down.
“...I love you too,” she heard Scootaloo say to the colt, who was strung up spread eagle over the maw by chains and shackles. Surprisingly, anger did not flood back into her again. It didn’t matter that Scootaloo loved him. Love didn’t mean anything, especially not love from Scootaloo. She gave a quick signal with a wingtip, and then spoke, forcing a bored tone to keep herself from raging again.
“We find the machine works better if the ribs are broken.”
She watched gleefully as the motors turned on, spinning the chains up in an instant in opposite directions. Ponies did not have much lateral range, and it would not take much torsion to add the final ingredient for splendrous Spectra production: pain.
His screams ramped up as the outlines of his ribs showed through the coat, his skin growing taut around the bones in an instant. She heard the familiar pops of vertebrae fracturing and dislocating, and as they released more of his body was given freedom to turn about the skeleton within.
There was a sound not unlike the ripping of denim as his chest split, the contorted rib bones ejecting outwards as there was no room left for them within. That last, guttural scream was poetry to Rainbow Dash. The raw, rattling breath of the one who had brought her so much pain brought a smile to her face, the dying gurgle beautiful justice to her ears.
She brought that smile down on Scootaloo, and it only grew as she saw on her face too the grief and anguish that she had felt. She would make Scootaloo watch, she decided, every last one of these failures be processed. It was always the last foal who made the most beautiful Spectra, anyways. Perhaps, Dash thought, she owed Scootaloo that much of an honour.
“The orange one, last,” she spoke down towards the workers. They nodded in recognition and began moving towards the failures, hauling shackles and aiming tasers at them, and Dash smiled as they all huddled together, lost, aimless.
“Rather unexpected turn of events, that was,” River said, squinting at Rainbow Dash. “Any more surprises for us?”
Dash shook her head, tearing her eyes away from the whimpering foals. “No. I’m sorry. I never thought she would have let me down, and it never occurred to me that it might matter.”
“No worries,” Snow Quill said, peering over Rainbow Dash’s shoulder. “Seems like it’s all back on track now anyways. We’ve just got to oversee this for another hour, and then we can all go get some drinks together. Sound good?”
“Sounds great to me,” Doctor Atmosphere said, already halfway out the door. “You mares catch up when you’re done. I’ll be waiting in the lounge with the blender prepped.” The door clicked shut, and the rest of them just shrugged, chuckling.
“You actually okay though?”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine. Stupid brat. I apparently didn’t matter to her, so she doesn’t matter to me.” She exhaled, shivering as the adrenaline that had been racing through her system started to fade. “Thanks for putting up with that little outburst.”
“We all have our days.”
“Thanks. But don’t worry. Everything should be normal now.”
“THREE!”
The shout had come from the failures, and the Directors swung around to find that the couple dozen foals had all taken off into the air at once, scattering around the room like moths around a lantern.
Anger once again started to rush into the emptiness within Rainbow Dash, though it was a more muted ember, a shaking rage that started to smolder in her bones… Until, of course, she heard the next shouted command. It came from a raspy filly, tomboyish and stubborn in tone, and one she recognized well.
“CLEAR!”
At Scootaloo’s voice, that same instant flash of red blinded her. How dare she fight back! As if she didn’t deserve this fate coming to her!
“Dash, what the fuck is happening?”
Flocks of foals drove together in sync, primal flying instincts taking over as they coordinated attacks on the adult workers. Some got caught in the prods in their rush, those liquid-thunder tips punching through the skin and sparking internal organs, but others found their marks and the security teams were overwhelmed with a dozen kicks and punches all at once.
“How the fuck would I know, Snow?!”
She heard a slamming noise and focused across the scaffolding, where the yellow filly and Scootaloo had landed and were bucking at the lock in desperation. Scootaloo’s eyes locked on Dash and she gasped in terror before kicking harder, more desperately.
Where once was her little sister there were now two ponies. No, not ponies. Two things. One was still the sister, the only source of love and compassion that Dash had had for most of her life, her little squirt who tried her hardest despite her setbacks and was inspired to be as good as Rainbow Dash could be. Superimposed on her was another thing, a wretched and disgusting mass of wings and legs. It looked exactly like Scootaloo, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been, because Scootaloo wouldn’t have failed her test. This thing did, however; this thing had failed the test and betrayed Rainbow Dash’s trust. It had taken advantage of her loyalty, promised reciprocation of that loyalty, and had broken it for a meaningless reason.
Was that all that loyalty was worth to ponies? A quick and easy way to benefit from the compassion and exertion of others? Time and time again this had been proven to Dash. She would be loyal to her core to those who treated her the same, but then they would turn and break her heart the moment it was convenient to them.
Cloudsdale Weather Corporation hadn’t broken her heart yet, though. She had been loyal to it for all these years, and it had only repaid her in kind, with promotions, with power, with purpose.
But this thing…
“Kill her!” She swung her head around at the two Directors and security members that were nearby. “Kill her!” she shrieked, galloping towards the two little bastards that were hurting her precious Corporation, damaging its walls, ruining its processes. Behind all the hate and the hurt, numbers and values and procedures started to come forth, pestering her about how the workers’ injuries would decrease production, about how much raw Spectra would be required for the coming month, about how expensive cleaning this mess up was going to be.
She was halfway there when her hind legs stuck to the scaffolding, and she tugged at it twice before whipping around, spittle foaming at her mouth in frustration at the delay.
She just had time to see that small pink foal who had shouted out wrapped around her leg, hauling her back, supported by two other failures. She went to kick but a punch interrupted her, and a split second later five more foals were crowded around her, wailing on her with hooves and teeth.
Dash struggled through the mass of rebellion, stuck in place as if she was swimming through tar. She started to cringe down, bending her legs in and tucking her wings closed against the assault, shaking in futility to remove them. It was only when she heard an even louder crash did she risk raising her chin, to see that the two of them had managed to blast the door off its hinges.
At this new sin against the factory, electricity flowed through her heart and muscles, eating away all the pain and refreshing every tendon and nerve with infernal purpose. Her migraine had returned in full force, feeling very much as if somepony had poured magma into her ears, but it too was devoid of any pain, only warping her perception on top of all the malice.
She roared and exploded outward, her wings unfurling with such vehemence that the lycra could not respond in time and snapped into shreds, freeing the cyan feathers. She reared while she yelled, the force of her movement having flung most the failures from her body, where they slammed into the railing or dropped to the floor below.
Unencumbered, she began pummeling the few foals still around her. A scream of agony was cut short as the full weight of her body came down upon one’s neck, and she picked another up in her teeth and flung it up at the ceiling where their skull cracked like an egg against a jutting valve. The pink one was still latched to her hindleg, and Rainbow Dash kicked her leg backwards, launching the filly into the air where she plummeted into the still-running jaws of the Pegasus Device.
She looked around quickly. The yellow filly was standing in front of the door, wings flared—though one was cocked at a weird angle. She could see on the floor below that a few of the security guards were lying bleeding on the clouds, surrounded by six or so failures that likewise were lifeless. The other guards had managed to contain the living resources, and Snow Quill and River had gone—presumably, Dash figured, to the lounge—to bandage their own wounds with whatever concoction the doctor had come up with, leaving her to clean up her own mess.
She’d be there soon enough. There were just two little things left to take care of.
The yellow filly squared herself up as Rainbow Dash approached, her lip quivering but her eyes steady all the same.
“How cute. You think that you, a useless, broken pile of manure could possibly stand in my way? You really make me laugh! None of you can compete with just how awesome I am!”
“Love can overcome all evils in this world!”
Bullshit, Dash thought. Love doesn’t mean jack.
“Well, then, bitch. Let’s see if love will overcome this one.”
She lunged forward and caught the odd-angled wing in her teeth before the filly could react, jerking her head back with a twisting motion. There was a tearing, sucking noise as the damaged joint failed and the bone pulled away, bringing bits of ligament and flesh with it. The filly dropped to her knees, her jaws locked in silent pain, but she brought her eyes to meet Rainbow Dash’s and glared still.
Rainbow Dash spit the wing out and then grabbed the other one and kicked off into the air, holding her aloft by it. The filly twisted and squirmed, groaning in agony as the other dislocated wing held her weight by tendons alone, each beat of Dash’s wings jostling her and sending another shock through her body.
Over the Pegasus Device, Rainbow Dash laughed quietly, and then laughed harder as the filly looked back and forth between the whirring blades and the blood-spattered mare that held her, her eyes widening in fear, pleading no, please, anything but—
She snapped the wing like a whip, the sharp movement all that was needed to propel the filly’s body down and the wing up; and with a crunchy, wet slurping noise the wing popped out, spraying blood up towards Rainbow Dash. The failure fell, scrambling at the air with her hooves as the bleeding stumps in her back failed to keep her in the air despite all their twitching. Her head smashed into the blades, cleaved instantly by the alternating scythes and drug further down into the machine, but Rainbow Dash had already shot off through the broken door, in pursuit of the monster that had replaced her sister.
She soared out through the door, sailing into the Logistics department of the factory. The little runt was there, almost at the back wall, her tiny wings buzzing as if she were trying to break the speed of sound. There was no hesitation as Rainbow Dash kicked off, shooting down the scaffolding towards the failure, her hooves outstretched, reaching ever-that-much further, ready to grasp, to strangle, to end.
Scootaloo glanced backwards only once, no longer attempting to find Rainbow Dash’s eyes and make sure it was really her that raced after her with vengeous intent. She shrieked and skidded around the corner, racing towards the north end of the factory.
There was no way out. For as sure as the Corporation had always been that nothing like this would ever happen, they had always ensured that just in case, there would be no exit. The loading bay door was sealed now, electrified even; the elevators disabled except at a Director’s call; the vents and exhausts to the outside world tiny and warped. Scootaloo was just wasting time, and this angered Rainbow Dash even more. This was her fate, damnit! The little wretch couldn’t even die right.
Fuelled by frustration, she was unable to slow, and slammed into the wall at the corner. It didn’t hurt. She felt nothing, even, only more anger which stoked the flames within her, propelling her ever faster behind the orange and purple blur. She kicked off the steel conduits and sped off down the cramped hall, slowly closing the gap.
Each beat of her wings filled her with heavenly thrill, her chest starting to twitch with alternations of giggles and growls as the failure came closer and closer. Oh how she loved flying. Not even the oddly angled pipes that she ricocheted off with each curve, nor the tangle of loose electrical wires which snapped and shocked her as she angled sharply up and down staircase after staircase, could take it away from her.
This was what Scootaloo had given up. This was what she had forsaken. It was the most important thing in the universe to Rainbow Dash, to be able to fly, to be able to fly fast, to be so separated from the ground that there was nothing that could stop her. In the air, while the world blurred behind her and the wind whistled around her, every sensation was orgasmic. Dash had worked so hard to share this gift with Scootaloo, and she had thrown it all away for that colt.
She should have seen it coming, she mused, ignoring the blood running down her muzzle from some valve or flange that had clipped her skull. Ever since that day Scootaloo had skipped flight training and Rainbow Dash had found her supposedly “studying” together in their room, she should have known that she would give it all up. She should have depegasified the little bastard long before he could corrupt her poor, dear sister.
She flicked her head to clear the blood that had covered her eyes, and found that Scootaloo was further away now, halfway down over the main corridor’s second level.
That stupid colt, even now, was taking her even further away from Dash, and she spat once, sending the thoughts of him out with the saliva. She would need to work harder, faster, just a bit closer now, and she could fix all of this. Remove all the hurt from her life. All the memories of hurt from her life. She just needed to—
Scootaloo snapped her wings shut over an exposed exhaust vent in the center of the hallway, her eyes closed, vanishing from Dash’s vision. The mare collided with the vent and tried to scramble into it like a wolf into a rabbit’s den, clawing at the small surface, pounding on it, howling, fearing that no, she was getting away, going to…
She blinked, thinking.
And then for the first time that night she felt some sense of happiness, some touch of peace.
A grin spread on her face, and then, where once was void in her chest, a cackle grew, bellowing out of her in victorious splendor.
“You moron! You never did have a good sense of direction!” she chided, laughing again. She could see Scootaloo glaring up at her, but the stubborn defiance slid off her face the moment she looked around.
She had dived straight into the Main Theatre Room, where the recovered guards had been waiting for their manager to return.
“Oh, no,” she whined, spinning around, presumably looking for an out.
The idea that they would jump the gun and deal with this monster that had possessed her sister jumped into her mind, and Dash momentarily panicked, sticking her face into the vent and shouting down.
“Don’t let her die! I must do it! Subdue her! Catch her!”
In an instant the security team came into view, and whinnying with glee Rainbow Dash watched as multiple tasers lanced into the filly. The first one caught her in the neck and she went limp immediately, only to spasm as three others jabbed into various soft parts on the foal before she was caught and dropped onto the floor.
Dash raced back around to the great room, gliding in through the broken door with her chest heaving. She felt like she should have ached from all the cuts and gouges she had taken in her reckless pursuit, but the blood that oozed from her wounds seemed to cool and soothe her. Curious, but unimportant. She wasn’t about to die any time soon. The pain could come later, when she had dealt with this rebellious failure once and for all.
She landed onto the floor, the room now quiet save for the grumbling engines of the idling Pegasus Device behind them. She walked slowly up towards Scootaloo, looking the garbage excuse of a Pegasus over intricately in detail while shackles pulled her up. Her forelegs splayed out, her head drooped down, and she moaned, recovering consciousness from the shocks.
“Any last words, you miserable worthless whore of a foal?”
The failure raised her chin high and locked eyes one last time with Rainbow Dash, whose heart froze upon meeting those lilac irises.
“You have beautiful eyes,” her sister cooed, soft, yet clearly.
