Spitfire’s First Day.
It was a glorious day in Equestria, Princess Celestia had out done herself this time and as Spitfire cantered through Canterlot she took in the spectacle of the great city.
All her young life Spitfire a yellow Pegasus with a flame colored mane and tail had lived in Cloudsdale, she’d done well at school and was top of the class at flight school five years running and had already at sixteen gained her young flyers training license.
…But training fillies and colts wasn’t enough for the young mare… No… She’d had something on her mind since she’d seen her first aerobatics display…
…The Wonderbolts!!!
The legendary team of daredevil flyers had captured her heart with every swoop and every loop, the young filly had stood gawping then and even now so many years later she still felt that thrill, that excitement…
When Spitfire had received the letter telling her to come to the Wonderbolt HQ for an interview it had taken days for her to calm down and her parents had eventually gone on holiday to escape the squeals and jumping up and down amid cries of ‘oh my gosh’.
Spitfire had spent the flight to Canterlot practicing what she would say and all of the tricks she hoped might impress or at least show her potential….
As she reached the front gates of the Wonderbolt HQ Spitfire marveled at the huge multi floor building with its thousand year old architecture.
“Oh hey Spitz… You here for a tryout too…?”
Spitfire froze… She knew that voice… But wait…?
“Soarin…? W-What are you doing here… W-What do you mean ‘a tryout too’…?”
Turning she came face to face with a grinning stallion whose joyful expression faded as her stern look and flaming eyes bore down on him.
“WHY!!! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO FOLLOW ME EVERYWHERE!!! FIRST SCHOOL… THEN FLIGHT SCHOOL… N-Now here…”
Spitfire’s anger left her on the last part as she hung her head as her voice trailed off…
…Soarin…
Spitfire had first met him at a young age and no matter what she did no matter how far above every pony else she preformed he always managed to keep up.
Soarin was a good looking stallion with flying skills second only to Spitfire at flight school…
He was more than capable in the brains department but it was difficult to tell past his attitude which left a lot to be desired.
It wasn’t that Soarin was lazy, he was… But he just took such a relaxed view with everything, preferring to party and ‘Chill’ than anything useful.
But still he managed to keep up, he always seemed to pull it out of the bag at the last second, no matter how hard Spitfire worked he was always there a close second…
He had at one point been Spitfire’s first crush, not that she’d ever tell him that of course…
After all he infuriated her with his ever present dopey smile stupid jokes and his constant partying instead of applying himself…
All the frustration boiled up and her broken concentration on the task in hoof went out the window as Spitfire sharply brought her head up ready to give him a piece of her mind only to find she was alone once more…
*Knock… Knock*
Spitfire looked around for the source of the sound and looking behind her she was horrified to see Soarin stood knocking loudly and arrogantly on the solid oak doors of her future.
“…S-SOARIN!!!”
The young mare raced through the now open gates down the gravel path that led to her destiny and without stopping she barrelled into the stallion and pinned him by the neck to the doors.
“W-What the hay… Are you doing!!! I-I hadn’t finished talking… And I…”
A tear fell from her eyes and traveled down her cheek…
This moment…
She had waited for this moment for years, she’d planned on taking her time before she presented herself at the door and now as all the anticipation and the stress came out she relaxed and slid to her rump sat dejectedly on the floor…
…It was all going wrong…
As she sat there Soarin for once stayed silent and crouched next to her and nudged her gently…
“H-Hey Spitz you OK…?”
Bad move…
Soarin took just that little bit too long to realize he’d used his nickname for her when with Spitfire like this perhaps more tact was needed…
“Y-You… It’s your fault I’m feeling like this!!!”
Soarin had time to admire the rose bushes placed neatly around the entrance before landing on his back, wings and hooves splayed he was treated to a bunch of flying Wonderbolts going round in circles above his head as he groaned and passed out…
“I SAY… Capital swing young ’UN… Always give as good as you get I say!!!”
Spitfire jerked around as a deep commanding voice in an old fashioned Trottingham accent boomed out from behind her…
Rosy Journey the captain of the Wonderbolts stood tall in the now open doorway of the HQ her dark brown coat and deep red mane were familiar sights on all the posters and magazines Spitfire still had in her room at home.
Rosy saw the awestruck look from Spitfire and the older mare began laughing heartily as she continued…
“You must be Spitfire… Come on then pick him up I’ll give you the tour while we take him to medical!”
Chortling as she held the door open the captain watched as in a daze Spitfire hastened to obey and struggled to lift the prone form of Soarin onto her back before staggering past.
The massive entrance way opened out before the young mare and despite the dead weight on her back (in her opinion in more ways than one…) Spitfire’s jaw dropped at the marble floors, huge Wonderbolt motif hanging drapes and it’s huge staircases either side of the hall.
Noticing the awestruck look on her face Rosy Journey laughed.
“Quite impressive… The first time that is…”
Spitfire missed the wistful tint to Rosie’s voice and her sad smile…
“Oh y-yes it’s what I always imagined it to be…”
Seeing Spitfire struggle Rosy lent a hoof as she led her deeper into the inner sanctum of the greatest flyers in Equestria.
Of Four floors the first was mainly offices and storage for equipment and training gear.
The second floor consisted of three giant rooms all of which were stuffed to the rafters with gym equipment, some of which looked like it hadn’t been used in a while.
The third floor seemed to be mostly the kitchen the dining hall and the teams quarters…
Upon reaching the fourth floor Spitfire was alarmed as she noticed vibrations increasing in intensity as she approached the only door on the floor that wasn’t shaking in its frame.
Rosy began stuffing cotton wool in her ears from a bowl next to the door marked ‘Captain’.
Noticing her look of confusion and uncertainty Rosy Journey grinned as her booming voice rang out in the silent hall.
“Extra thick doors… Cost a fortune mind you… But it saves replacing them all the time…”
“I’d brace yourself if I were you though…”
Spitfire blinked before she and Soarin still unconscious on her back went for a surprise flight backwards as Rosy journey opened the door shouting at the top of her lungs!!!
“…DON’T… …WORRY …IT’S EARLY SO IT’S NOT UP FULL BLAST!!!”
Spitfire drowned in a wave of sound that permeated her very soul as Rosy motioned her to follow inside, with nothing but white noise in her ears and blurred vision from the bass she checked on Soarin who was still out, hoisted him once again on her back and slowly entered the room.
The room was one giant living space with all manner of sofa’s chairs even hammocks hanging from the ceiling scattered haphazardly all over intermixed with tables bean bags and heaps of beer cans pizza boxes and empty wrappers of all shapes and sizes.
Among the jumble and mess were scattered Wonderbolts all in uniform all sleeping in various places and positions as if they had collapsed where they stood the night before.
Rosy Journey had made her way through the mess and was busy pointing and waving at some pony in the corner that was sat partially hidden by speakers and DJ equipment.
Spitfire guessed the music had been turned down due to her hearing slowly returning but still had to go by hoof signals as Rosy motioned her to go to the opposite corner of the room where there stood a very well stocked bar replete with snack food and what appeared to be a dedicated bar pony.
As she made her way through the debris and furniture and trying not to look at whatever she just stood in she eventually made it to the bar where Rosy helped her dump Soarin onto a bar stool.
“Wotcha Cliff these are the ones I was telling you about… Say do you still have that bottle of ripsnorter behind do you…?”
The bar pony looked up from the glass he was spinning on the bar from boredom and with equally bored eyes looked at Spitfire and Soarin then Rosy and nodded twice.
Rosy leaned over the bar as she introduced them.
“Cliff is our resident bar staff… Decent chap ‘cept he can’t talk, mute doncha know… Still no better cocktail in Equestria! Damn it all Cliff can’t seem to find that bally bottle lend us a hoof!”
“E-Excuse me…”
Rosy stopped leaning over the bar and looked at Spitfire.
“Um you said we were taking him to medical…?”
Rosy finally found what she was looking for under the bar after Cliff pointed several times with his hoof before Rosy even noticed.
With one quick movement Rosy uncorked the bottle she’d pulled out and stuffed it into Soarin’s mouth.
“My dear this is medical… Well it stocks my kind of medicine anyway… Tally ho!!!”
The jovial captain edged back pulling with a hoof Spitfire to her side before she brought a hoof to her mouth and pointed to Soarin.
With his head tilted back propped up against the bar and the bottle stuffed in his mouth the pair watched as the liquid drained out of the unlabeled bottle into the unconscious Pegasus.
A few seconds passed before Soarin began to twitch then shake and then finally wake screaming clawing at his throat for water as the medicine took effect.
As Soarin belatedly tried to drown the fire in his throat he grabbed the jug on the bar next to him and downed it in one go, the jug fell from his hooves after he emptied it and as his eyes once more glazed over he fell as straight as a plank backwards out like a light once more.
Spitfire rushed to her fallen comrade and checked his vitals, relieved she turned to Rosy who was inspecting the fallen jug.
“Ha ha, dear me that one needs to look before he leaps, that was a jug of Stalliongrad’s finest vodka! Is he dead…? ”
“N-No…”
“Top hole wot, wouldn’t want the poor blighter popping his clogs on his first day, damned difficult to fit him for a uniform if he’s all bally stiff and all…”
Spitfire paused thought about it then asked in a hesitant voice.
“Wait Miss Rosy…”
“Miss…? MISS…? I say old girl, get the rank right, not in flight school after all, I’m the bally ‘Captain’ by Starswirl’s beard.”
Spitfire apologized quickly but then pressed again her question.
“You said his first day…? You mean you’ve decided to take him just like that… No tryout’s…?”
“Now listen here old gel, when you’re choosing a pony to be the captains second in command it’s not a case of tryouts you either have it or you don’t…”
The pair looked at the passed out form of Soarin being unceremoniously dumped on a sofa by the bar pony who looked as tired as Spitfire felt confused.
“You picked… Him…? To be your second…?”
Rosy gave her a lopsided grin and a slightly confused look.
“My second…? Whatever do you mean…? You did read the letter I sent you… Didn’t you…?”
Spitfire hastily fished the letter out of her saddlebags and nodded, opening it she read aloud only now noticing the slightly wavy and imprecise nature of the script and the various coffee stains in one corner and old jam on another.
“Dear Miss Spitfire Flameheart.”
“Your presence is required at the HQ of the Wonderbolts on the third day of next month where you will begin your assessment period.”
Spitfire paused as for the first time since she’d received the letter she got past the first sentence.
In all of her excitement she’d seen the first part but had always been too distracted to see written in smaller writing in the very corner of the page was…
“After your assessment be prepared to assume the full duties and responsibilities of the position of Captain…”
Spitfire blinked.
“PS, Don’t worry about a thing I’ve found you a second already… See you soon and wot not … …Rosy Journey Captain Wonderbolts.”
Spitfire numbly accepted the glass offered by Cliff who had suddenly appeared before her, taking a small sip lest she suffer Soarin’s fate Spitfire shuddered at the strength but it tasted fantastic sweet yet subtle.
Rosy watched Spitfire as she shifted through every emotional state in existence before settling on…
“…Me…?”
Rosy knew it was unfair and this poor mare wasn’t even old enough for the post let alone the drink she was holding but as she put on a sympathetic tone Rosy for the lack of a better term ‘winged’ it.
“Now steady on old gel, no need for dramatics, you should be happy!”
“I-I am… I am… I think…?”
Spitfire’s mind raced as she failed to overcome the mountain of confusion she felt.
“Why do you need a new Captain, Captain…?”
“Oh… Glad you asked that, well bit of a bother really…”
Rosie’s eyes took on a glassy sheen mostly from her recollections but also the four nearly five large drinks she’d quietly polished off during Spitfire’s emotional turmoil.
“All started as a filly… Met this bally rotter of a colt, got stuck with him for years… Couldn’t shake him no matter wot…”
Spitfire glanced at the prone Soarin but was distracted by Rosy continuing.
“I decided I’d had enough you know, packed my bags and went to leave, and blow me down if the damned charlatan didn’t walk right up and propose!!!”
Rosy waved her sixth drink about as she gesticulated her every word her voice indignant.
“Well… I was having none of it you see, just bally well telling a gel like that… I told him if he was serious he would have to wait ten years and then ask again.”
Spitfire was sat dumbstruck sipping her drink listening to the Captain as her voice rose in volume as she puffed out her chest.
“Then last month as fancy as you please the scallywag turns up on the door with a vicar and a wedding license and tells me its been ten years and was I ready yet…”
Rosy accepted her seventh drink from Cliff who just silently traveled back and forth to the bar.
“…The cad.”
“So you’re going to marry him…?”
“Already did old gel, whole point of getting you here I’m afraid… Off on my honeymoon doncha know…”
Spitfire breathed a little easier as Rosy mentioned her honeymoon…
“So it’s only temporary until you get back right…?”
Rosy shifted uneasily…
“Right…?”
“W-Well not exactly… You see I always wanted to settle down in the old stomping grounds… Maybe have a few foals… Keep the line going and all that…”
“…Besides place needs fresh blood… Hmmm bit long in the tooth to be still doing this old gaff my gel.”
“…But it’s so sudden…”
“Yes well… Sorry but needs must… And I must… …Besides your perfect for the job.”
Spitfire was about to ask the obvious when she noticed eyes, lots of eyes all watching her from all sides like a pack of wolves observing but ready to pounce.
“Don’t be frightened dear, come on lets introduce you to the team wot?”
Rosy laughed a little as the Wonderbolts all gradually managed to get up despite their obvious hangovers and assemble in a disorderly fashion mostly sat down in a semi circle around the pair.
Spitfire scanned the crowd appalled at the state of her heroes and shocked by the total and utter crushing annihilation of her dreams.
“But I don’t know anything about how to run a team… I don’t have a uniform yet… I…”
“Come on old gel buck up, you teach fillies and colts doncha…?”
“Y-Yes… But I don’t see how that’s got anything to do with running the Wonderbolts…”
“Same thing ‘cept this lot require a stern hoof my dear other than that it’s pretty much the same… ”
“Oh and Vinyl over there can get you fitted for a uniform old gel, great DJ bit lacking in the ability to give it a rest during the day though.”
Spitfire noticed a low bass line creeping from the speakers as the DJ had obviously gotten bored…
“Resident DJ…? A resident bar pony…? What kind of HQ is this…?”
“Party HQ…?”
Spitfire rounded on the unfortunate Wonderbolt that had spoken.
“Y-You’re a Wonderbolt and it’s the middle of the day…? According to my book on the Wonderbolts you train every day not spend it drunk listening to that rubbish!!!”
Spitfire ignored the upset ‘Hey!’ from behind the speakers and continued…
“And take that damned traffic cone off your head when you address… Your… …Captain…?”
Spitfire was too busy once again getting over the shock of the situation to notice the Wonderbolt do exactly as she said while looking like a foal caught with a hoof in the cookie jar…
Rosy noticed though, that and the embarrassed looks from the rest but was too surprised to say anything as Spitfire unused to drink and rapidly falling into a foul mood due to circumstances found her voice again.
“I-I… Have wanted to be a Wonderbolt my entire life… Now I’m here I’m ashamed to have called you my heroes…”
Looks were exchanged by the now guilty looking group in front of her…
Tears of anger fell as the indignation, anger and all the rest of her emotions boiled up.
“And look at this place… I-It’s a mess… I don’t believe this…”
“I-Its fine by us…”
Spitfire rounded on the Wonderbolt that had spoken and after a moment to calm herself she gave up and exploded.
“FINE!!! YOU CALL THIS FINE!!! IT’S LIKE A PIGSTY IN HERE!!!”
“B-But…”
“NO BUTS… YOU’RE THE HEROES OF ALL THE FILLIES AND COLTS OF EQUESTRIA AND YOU THINK THIS IS… OK…?”
Spitfire ran on autopilot as she adopted the manner she used to address her little charges in training and berated the assembled Wonderbolts for a straight ten minutes for every little thing she could think of or notice around her.
As the Wonderbolts ran flew and crashed into each other bin liners were retrieved from a store cupboard and as the team began to tidy up the mess at near supersonic speeds Spitfire finally caught her breath.
“Rosy… How could you let it get…? Like this…?”
Spitfire looked around for the jovial Captain but all she got was a belated shrug from Cliff behind his bar as he pointed to the door.
Rosy was putting her over stuffed saddlebags on as she stumbled in a near flat out run for the main doors of the HQ when Spitfire who’d decided to head Rosy off flew down from the third floor landed right in front of her.
“Where… Where are you going…? You can’t leave yet…”
Rosie’s guilty look suppressed her usually jovial expression as she turned.
“Look old gel, as a Pegasus you understand the need to fly… Right…?”
Spitfire gave her a confused look…
Rosy sighed deeply as she closed the gap and rested a hoof on Spitfire’s shoulder as she began crying…
“Why… Why me…? I don’t know how to… What do I do…?”
Rosie’s sympathetic look and soothing baritone voice calmed the shaking young mare as slowly the tears ran dry.
“Listen old gel… Running this team is a great responsibility and it takes a special kind of pony to manage this bunch of reprobates party hounds and hot shots.”
“According to that old blowhard of a flight school instructor you were the best darn flyer he’d ever seen… In fact my dear he said if he fancied any time off you were the gel to leave it to…”
Spitfire puffed her chest out momentarily before it deflated again…
“But how doe’s that make this OK…?”
“Oh don’t fret dear hardly becoming of the new captain of the ‘bolts’ now help me with these dashed saddle bags and I’ll let you get on with it...”
Spitfire helped Rosy get the saddlebags adjusted to which the older mare grunted as the weight of all her worldly possessions settled into place.
Making a few experimental flaps of her wings Rosy turned and with one last piece of advice she took off into the distance at quite the pace.
“Up and at ‘em old gel and remember… Firm hoof and all that… And don’t let them stay up past midnight if they’ve had cheese…”
“Bad show all round… Just ask Cliff for the roster and don’t what ever you do let them fly all over you… Ta ta old gel… They’re all yours now… Good luck wot… ”
And with that Rosy Journey sailed on the winds to her new life laughing manically with cheers of ‘I’m free!!!’ Leaving a bemused Spitfire sat alone on the doorstep speechless.
After a while running on auto pilot she made her way back upstairs and as she entered the common room her jaw dropped as in the center of the room sat the Wonderbolts all breathing heavy and looking worse for wear but the room itself was spotless.
It wasn’t until the next day Spitfire would find a huge pile of bin bags lying right underneath one of the windows outside the mystery of the disappearing rubbish would be solved.
Looking at the sheepish faces watching her and feeling out of her depth Spitfire heard the rumble of empty stomachs from the group and her own so checking the clock above the bar she was surprised to find it was almost dinner time.
In as commanding a tone as she could manage she addressed the group…
“Well done all of you… I… I guess… It’s dinner time…?”
As fast on the ground as in the sky the team were past her and halfway downstairs before she managed to yell…
“No running!!! Or flying… And don’t forget to wash your hooves!!!”
The Wonderbolts skidded to a halt as the ones that were flying landed and in good order they trooped downstairs loudly hollering and bantering with each other excited by the change of command.
“QUIETLY…”
Spitfire slowly paced over to the bar and as she sat down Cliff poured her a stiff drink and slid it with a hoof over to her, giving him a look Spitfire waited while he poured something non alcoholic.
Noticing a picture frame on the back bar she saw it was a family photo…
Cliff and a very young white mare with an electric blue mane wearing shades were stood at the gates of the Wonderbolts HQ in the picture was a mare in a Wonderbolt uniform.
Spitfire wracked her brains before she remembered she’d seen that Wonderbolt before…
…Then it hit her…
Some years before a storm had gotten out of control in southern Equestria and a Wonderbolt had given her life trying to save a group of fillies and colts on a school trip…
Cliff had noticed where Spitfire had been looking and when she looked to him he just shrugged…
Spitfire was about to try to say something when she felt something long and hard slap onto her back...
Screeching loudly and dropping her drink she turned to find the white mare from behind the DJ decks with a meter ruler in her mouth and a tape measure around her neck.
“Oh hi, you’re Vinyl right… Um I… Do you talk…?”
“Yup…”
“So you’re our DJ right…”
Vinyl nodded as she grasped a pen between her teeth and started writing down the numbers.
“Yup…”
“Good… How soon will my uniform be ready…?”
“Soon…”
“S-Sweet I… Guess…”
As the white mare finished she moved over to Soarin and as he snored she measured…
Spitfire had to reprimand her as she measured a little more than Spitfire was comfortable with but still she quickly leaned over Vinyl’s shoulder to check the clipboard as she blushed.
Moving her attention back to the bar Spitfire watched as Cliff dumped a ton of paperwork in front of her, some of which looked like it had been waiting for a while.
Spitfire shifted to a more comfortable position as without any idea of what to do next she started on the pile of invoices invites to perform and bills…
After what seemed like hours Spitfire resurfaced and feeling the pinch from her stomach she headed down to the dining hall to find the place looking like a battlefield…
Introducing herself to the chef called Ivan who hailed from Stalliongrad and after managing to overcome his strong accent and finally convince him she really was the new captain.
Spitfire grabbed a few hay fries and checked on her team who after all their work had retired to their bunks and were sleeping peacefully.
As she stood in the doorway watching the sleeping Wonderbolts a slightly worse for wear Soarin supported by Vinyl appeared next to her.
“Huh… Spitfire what’s going on did we get the job…? Where’s the Captain…?”
Spitfire took a second longer to watch the sleeping team then turning to head back upstairs she spoke in a firm mature voice that contained absolutely no confidence and said.
“Right here… Come on we’ve lots of work to do…”
