Of Fire And Lightning

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3

Chapter 1

“You promised, Soarin! There’s no backing out of it now, you lost. You gotta tell us!” Fleetfoot pouted, right before taking a swig from her mug of Sweet Apple Acres’ seasonal hard cider. The small group of Wonderbolts sat in a rounded corner booth of their favorite pub in Cloudsdale, ‘The Diving Hawk’. Soarin sat squished in the middle between Misty Fly and Surprise on his left, and Fleetfoot, Thunderlane, and Fire Streak on his right. He had no escape.

“Aw, come on guys… Do we really have to do this right now? Besides, the big guy isn’t here yet. Don’t you want to wait for him?” he pleaded, looking around at his peers in hopes that one of them would take his side. Unfortunately, the group unanimously agreed to say ‘no’ without even needing to consult each other.

“It’s his fault he’s not on time… Wait, it doesn't even matter! You two were roommates! He knows the whole story anyway.”

“Not the whole story…” Soarin mumbled.

“You lost our bet, and you promised that you’d tell us the story if you lost. And you owe me a hundred bits, but we can sort that out later,” Thunderlane added.

“Come on guys, you know what’ll happen to m- to all of us if she finds out, right?”

“Yeah. Totally worth it though.”

“There’s really no way out of this, is there?”

“Nope.”

“Ugh… fine,” Soarin groaned, hoofing his face. “But if you wanna keep me talking, keep my drinks coming. I’m hoping that by the time I get home, I won’t remember enough to be incriminated by her.”

“Deal.”

“Well… alright, pay attention then. I’ll never repeat this story again after this,” he warned. “It all started back on day one.”

“Listen up! From this point on, the first and last things I want to hear out of your mouths are ‘Yes, Drill Sergeant’, and ‘No, Drill Sergeant,’ Do you understand me?”

“YES, DRILL SERGEANT!”

“Good. Now, pass your folders to the front. You will do so quickly and quietly, do you understand?”

“YES, DRILL SERGEANT!”

A flurry of folders passed through the hooves of the cadets until they were all neatly gathered at the front and passed to a pony standing next to the Drill Sergeant. Soarin’s legs were shaking badly, though he couldn’t tell if it was excitement or fear. The sixty recruits lined up in front of the administration building of the Wonderbolt Academy with Soarin in the very front row, in the farthest left column. The Drill Sergeant casually strolled up to the front of the formation and stared down the fresh fish. Soarin stared directly forward, but could feel the Drill Sergeant’s eyes burning onto him. Fortunately, he moved along. Soarin stole a peek beside him and saw an olive green stallion to his right. He was taller than himself by an apple or so, but also a bit thinner. Soarin could see the beads of sweat running off of his face, clearly terrified.

“Now, welcome to Fort Cloudfall, the Eastern location of the Wonderbolt Academy,” the Drill Sergeant called. “You may be wondering why we’re on the ground, and not up in the sky. Is that right?”

“YES, DRILL SERGEANT!”

“That’s what I thought. You have not earned the right to fly. As long as you are on this premises, you will not fly unless ordered. Understood?”

‘Can’t fly?’ Soarin thought. ‘Well, that’s absolutely ridiculous! This is the Wonderbolts academy, right? Why shouldn’t they let us fly?’

“I promise you, if you do not pay attention to what I’m about to tell you, you’re gonna make your Wonderbolt career very short. Understand?” he screamed into the crowd of cadets. Spit flung out of his mouth as he yelled, and sprayed all over the unfortunate green pony next to Soarin. Clearly distraught, the green pony frowned, trying not to be noticed by the DS.

“You will not speak, you will not eat, you will not scratch your butt unless I say so. Attention! Now, grab your bags and enter the building single file. Move!”

It took some time for all the recruits to get their paperwork sorted, but once they were finally through processing, they still had to get their photos taken for their Wonderbolt ID card. Soarin managed to get into line quick enough that he was near the front. Standing behind him was the same tall, green, and lanky pony from before. Waiting for his turn, it didn’t take long for Soarin to get bored and turn around to make conversation.

“Hey, you were standing next to me earlier, right?” he asked casually, reaching out a hoof. “The name’s Soarin, what’s yours?” The stallion hesitated but returned the hoof bump.

“Uh, name’s New Leaf. You can call me Leaf though, if you want,” he replied with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Soarin smiled back. “So what made you want to join the Wonderbolts, Leaf?”

“Well, I like flying… and I was tired of being a total loser,” he sighed and shook his head. “I’m hoping to change what ponies back home think about me.”

“Well, I’m sorry ponies back home think you’re a loser,” Soarin said. “If it’s any consolation, you seem alright to me.”

“Well, thanks, but you don’t know me. You’re just saying that aren’t you?” he replied.

“I mean I guess I don’t know you yet. Who knows, maybe you really are cool and I just don’t know it yet.”

Leaf furrowed his brow as if he didn’t believe the words he was hearing, but after looking at Soarin for a few moments and realizing that he was genuine, his smile radiated and his eyes lit up.

“Woah, you really mean it! Thanks- uh…”

“Soarin.”

“Cool. I’m New Leaf,” Leaf said. Soren cracked a smile, and, when Leaf realized that he’d already introduced himself, they both laughed.

As the two stallions waited in line, they talked about anything they could think of, whether it was their favorite music, or who their favorite Wonderbolt was, or even cool callsigns they thought they could get when they finally graduated and became actual Wonderbolts. Soarin decided Leaf could be called “Green Wonder,” and Leaf decided that Soarin would be called “Blue Thunder.” They were both satisfied with their fantasized callsigns and continued to chatter on about things, until the entire world stood still.

Bright orange flashed in front of Soarin. A yellow mare that seemed about his own age, maybe a little younger, walked out of the office with her brand new ID card held in her teeth. Her dazzling orange mane stuck straight up as if her head were on fire. Her gait was hardly elegant, but she moved with energy and rhythm, as though she were walking to an imaginary tune. He couldn’t help himself from staring at the mare walking by. His eyes naturally moved to her flank to see her cutie mark, but it was obviously obscured by her wing. Having realized this, his shoulders drooped down slightly. As she walked past him, he noticed she was looking at him as well, and their eyes met - her rich, golden eyes glowed with a brightness that mesmerized him - but she vanished around a corner as quickly as she had appeared. Soarin’s heart beat out of his chest and he felt something deep in his core flash like a bolt of lightning.

“Woah…” Soarin mumbled as his head left the clouds and returned to the line.

“Uh, you okay dude? You like totally zoned out on me,” Leaf asked, waving a hoof in his face. Soarin blinked at him blankly before registering the question.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I’m totally good. I just got a bit distracted…” he trailed off.

“Uh huh, I could tell. You were totally checking out that mare that walked by.”

“Was it that obvious?” Soarin asked, cringing at himself. Leaf just laughed at him.

“Buddy, I don’t think it could be more obvious unless you held up a sign,” he managed in between laughs, resulting in a groan and face hoof from Soarin.

“You two! Shut your mouths and pay attention. Keep the line moving,” shouted an ivory colored pegasus mare peering out the door of the office. The first thing they noticed about her was that she was very short. They could easily see over her head, and even the high ponytail of her auburn mane didn’t obstruct their vision. Mares were generally shorter than stallions, but this was ridiculous. She could’ve easily passed as a filly in middle school. This tiny mare was a Drill Sergeant? They had to stifle the laughter that was building up deep inside them, which the shorter mare quickly caught onto.

“Something funny, cadets?” she asked, immediately killing their stifled laughter and dropping their stomachs to the floor.

“N-no Ma’am!” they both squeaked out, straightening themselves out and standing at attention.

“MA’AM? Did you two sorry excuses for pigeons just call me Ma’am!?”

“Uh… No Drill Sergeant!” they yelled back, generating whispers from the line behind them.

She smiled sweetly at them, but there was a distinctly evil glint in her eyes. “Oh, I see. You two think it’s hilarious that I’m a bit on the smaller side, do ya?”

“No Drill Sergeant!”

“Somehow, I don’t buy that. I’m not exactly sure why. You boys aren’t lying to a sweet little mare like me, right?”

“N-No Drill S-Sergeant!”

“Ooh boy, am I gonna have some FUN with you two around,” she said as she smiled at them once more. “Let’s see… New Leaf and Soarin. I think the three of us are going to get along just fine. In fact, I think I’m going to have you transferred into my battalion so that we can spend some EXTRA time with each other. What do you think about that, Cadet?” she pressed, as she leaned uncomfortably close to Soarin’s face.

“I- uh I think it’s a great idea, Drill Sergeant!” he spat out, feeling a bead of his sweat rolling down his forehead. With a satisfied ‘hmm,’ the mare backed off and leaned casually against the door.

“Better remember my face, height, and name, Cadets. I’m Staff Sergeant Swift Bullet, and you two are going to be my favorite toys for the next ten weeks. Now GET IN HERE. You’re blocking up the line!”

“Oh great… We’re only like a day into this and we’ve already gotten ourselves screwed…” Leaf mumbled as he and Soarin made their way to the barracks. They had finally gotten their IDs and managed to escape the wrath of their superior, Swift Bullet, since she spotted another mare in line behind them with ‘contraband.’

“Relax, Leaf. We may have gotten off on the wrong hoof, but all we gotta do is try our best to get on her good side. Right?” Soarin assured him. “Or we just lay low until she forgets it all happened.”

Leaf shook his head. “I dunno Soarin, she seemed pretty miffed to me.”

“She’s supposed to be like that. She’s a commanding officer.”

“I guess…”

As the rest of the recruits piled into the dormitory, the room was divided into two sides: the left side for stallions and the right side for mares. Beds were stacked up into bunks with each bed having two chests against the wall next to them. The two stallions quickly took the bunk as far back as they could go in the room and then stood at attention while Bullet gave a speech about how all the recruits were simpletons who couldn’t do the most basic of tasks. She then demonstrated the ‘Wonderbolt way’ of making one’s bed, which she did very quickly. So quickly that not a single recruit in the barracks was able to recreate the technique. She made her rounds insulting each and every recruit for their poor work.

“Well lookie here. Two halves of a whole idiot!” she mocked, as she stormed up to Soarin and Leaf. “I should’ve known that of all the recruits in here, your bunks would be the worst! I think I’ll have to-”

As she continued to yell at them, Soarin looked over her shoulder and noticed the same yellow mare that he had seen earlier, when he was in line for his ID. Looked like she was in Bullet’s company as well. She was frantically ripping off the sheets of her own bunk, which sat closer to the middle of the barracks. As she made her next attempt, she noticed Soarin staring at her again. To his surprise, she seemed to get a kick out of him getting yelled at. He noticed the most subtle of smirks on her face as she jumped over her bunk and perfectly tucked in the last corner.

“Now, drop and give me thirty wing-ups, and then take off the sheets and do it all again! This is cutting into your sleep time, so I suggest you two put your shared pea-brain to use!” Bullet concluded, as she moved onto the next bunk. Soarin and Leaf then dropped onto the cold concrete floor and began their wing-ups, which were a lot harder than either of them were expecting. By the twelfth rep, their muscles were already aching. It didn’t help that they’d been awake for nearly twenty hours.

“You know that mare I was staring at earlier?” Soarin asked, through labored breathing. “She’s over there on the other side of the room.”

“Okay, and? You know, you don’t have to -huff- tell me every time you want to ogle her,” Leaf wheezed as he pushed himself up.

“No! I’m not- she… she’s laughing at us!” Soarin hissed, pointing over at her with his nose as he finished up his punishment. She stood smugly next to her bunk, and though he couldn’t prove it, he knew she was looking at them both out of the corner of her eye.

Leaf didn’t seem to find it amusing.“That- that- ugh that smug -huff- that bitch!” he managed, completing his very last rep and collapsing onto the floor. “We’re suffering more than any other recruit, and she’s laughing at us.” It was then clear to Soarin that the yellow mare was laughing at them. She let out a giggle when Soarin collapsed as well, but stifled it when Bullet’s head swiftly turned to look for the perpetrator.

“Whatever,” Soarin said as he pulled himself up, and then helped Leaf to his hooves. “Let’s just make the beds and ignore her. Sucks, thought she was cute too,” he pouted.

“Don’t worry about it, bro. The Wonderbolts are like seventy percent mare. I’m sure you’ll find a mare that isn’t so… uh, like her.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the recruits to finish their own punishments, and soon lights were out. Soarin lay in his lower bunk, kicking himself for finding that mare attractive. Well, who was he kidding? She was attractive. Unfortunately, her personality didn’t match. But something deep down urged him to let it slide and give her another chance.

Soarin snorted, imagining Leaf’s reaction to his change of heart. ‘Are you serious bro?’ he would probably say, giving him an eye roll. But it didn’t matter to him. He wanted to get a chance to know her. As he thought about that first time he’d seen her in the hallway, that way she looked at him and how it made him feel, he slowly drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

“Rise and shine, pigeons!” the mare shouted, as she banged on a bed frame with her hoof. “It’s Oh-four-hundred! Line up! Line up!” Soarin groaned and rolled out of his bed, yawning. Leaf, who was completely disoriented, couldn’t untangle himself from his sheets, and ended up falling off the top bunk and smacking into the ground next to Soarin.

“OOF!”

“With the grace of a thousand swans,” muttered Bullet, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she observed. “Come on, we don’t have all day. Jog in place! Get those knees up high! Is that what you call jogging, cadet? My great, great, great grammy can jog better than that and she’s a hundred and ten!” Bullet screamed at a gray mare, who was already sweating profusely. She looked to the right of the gray mare and noticed the orange mare jogging in place. Once again, she jogged as if she were listening to some imaginary music in her head. Within a second, the Drill Sergeant was up in her face, and for the first time, Soarin noticed her flinch and back away from Bullet.

“Spitfire! This isn't a dance class! I said jog!” Bullet screamed, startling her. She stopped in her tracks and started jogging again, but Bullet smacked her over the head with a piece of rolled up paper. “Wrong, Twinklehooves! Down! Give me thirty!”

She visibly hesitated before replying “Yes, Drill Sergeant!”

“Heh, served her right,” Leaf commented, watching Spitfire get down and start her punishment. Soarin shot a sympathetic look at her.

‘Spitfire, huh?’ Soarin thought to himself. ‘Name’s as pretty as the mare.’

After another twenty minutes of warm-ups, Bullet let the entire platoon out for a three mile jog around the airbase. Soarin didn’t have much of a problem keeping up with the group, but he noticed that Leaf trailed behind a bit, with Spitfire not far ahead. He decided to slow down so he could offer some support.

Before long, he was near the back, thirty or so paces ahead of Leaf. It seemed Leaf was picking up speed, maybe trying to meet him half-way, and threatened to pass Spitfire. He didn’t see the entire event, but one moment Leaf and Spitfire were side-by-side, and the next moment, Leaf was lying flat on his face. Soarin stopped and headed back to help Leaf, and noticed, as Spitfire passed him, a look of surprise on her face that quickly turned into a laugh. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

He offered a hoof to Leaf, who groaned as he was pulled back to his feet. “Dude, what happened?”

Leaf breathed hard, and tried to pick up the pace as best as he could, before thinking to answer. “I think she tripped me…”

“Spitfire?” Soarin narrowed his eyes and looked ahead to the mare, who was now far ahead of them. “That… sucks. But come on, not much longer now. You’re doing great.”

“Thanks. How are you doing this so easily?” he panted.

“I did track in school.” Soarin replied.

Leaf didn’t have anything to say to that, so they just continued jogging after the main group. Soarin still had the event with Spitfire on his mind after a minute, though, and asked, “Are you sure she tried to trip you? What if you two just accidentally got crossed up?”

Leaf rolled his eyes at him. “Alright, fine. Don’t believe me then. But I’m telling the truth. I was trying to make up pace, and I thought I had a chance to pass her, but she stepped on my hooves and screwed me up.”

“No, I believe you. I didn’t see what happened, but it seems like something she’d do. I guess you were right. She is a bitch.” Soarin said, losing a little bit of pep in his step.

Seeing Soarin deflate, Leaf sighed. “Look, I’ll let it slide one last time, but only because you’ve got a thing for her. If she does that again, I’m holding a grudge.”

As ‘Bullet Company’ finished their jog, the short, ivory mare allowed her new recruits to retire to the mess hall for breakfast - though not without doing a hundred crunches first, of course. The twenty ponies of Bullet Company piled into the canteen and stood in line to get their food. Soarin had hoped that the free food would be decent, at least, but he was wrong. So wrong. On his tray sat a small bowl of chopped fruits and various nuts, some scrambled eggs that looked more gray than yellow, a granola bar and a cup of water. The portion size was stingy to say the least, but he was too tired to complain, so he just grabbed his food and sat down next to Leaf. All the other tables were full or nearly full, and chatter polluted the air, but Soarin and Leaf managed to find an empty table.

“Y’know, I was hoping I could make more friends here, but it’s harder than I thought,” Leaf admitted, as he bit into his granola bar. “I don’t know if I would’ve ever talked to you if you hadn’t said something first.”

“Well, Leaf, you’ve just gotta get over that initial anxiety. You see-”

Before Soarin could finish what he was saying, a tray clattered to the table next to him. Both stallions whipped their heads around to see who it was, and to both their surprise, it was either the mare they really wanted to see, or really didn’t want to see, depending on who you asked.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?” Spitfire asked. “Only table with a seat left open is with that one mare that I don’t think showers. Thanks.” She sat down without waiting for an answer.

“Uh, yeah sure I guess,” Soarin mumbled, scooching closer to Leaf.

“The name’s Spitfire,” she said proudly, looking to Soarin and then to Leaf. Her eyes widened, as if she was noticing them for the first time. “Hey, it’s the Swan! Oh wow, when you fell out of your bunk, that was golden!” she laughed as she took a bite of her food. “And you, I don’t know your name,” she added, looking at Soarin.

“I’m Soa-”

“Hey! My name isn’t Swan! It’s New Leaf, thank you very much,” Leaf interjected, throwing his hooves into the air.

“Ahem,” Soarin shot a look at Leaf, who grudgingly shook his head. “I’m Soarin. It’s nice to meet you,” he replied diplomatically.

“Soarin, huh?” she asked rhetorically, leaning in to take a closer look at him. “You’re the guys that got targeted by the Drill Sergeant on day one, right? Ha! Hilarious! I can’t wait to see you guys do more wing-ups.” She laughed again.

Soarin tried his best to not get irritated, but it was getting tougher by the minute. Spitfire continued to tease them for all the trouble they’d gotten into with Bullet, which Leaf tried to tune out by angrily focusing on his breakfast.

“You were doing pretty good in the three mile earlier, too, but you dropped back for the Swan, so you lost some points from me,” she gestured at Leaf.

“You tripped me when I tried to go around you!” he shot back. “And my name’s New L-”

“I didn’t trip you.”

“Yes, you did. I saw you do it.” Soarin interjected.

“No you d- what’s your deal? So what, we got a little crossed up. I didn’t trip you. If you wanted to get around me, you should’ve tried harder.”

“Y-you-”

“Okay, whatever you say, Twinklehooves,” Soarin said, finally getting sick of her teasing. Spitfire stopped in her tracks, stared at him like he’d just grown a third wing. He pressed on, “Not like you weren’t lagging behind too.”

“What did you just call me?”

“You heard me. Twinklehooves. I saw you losing steam. Don’t try and hide it either.”

Spitfire leaned in close enough to Soarin that their brows nearly touched. “Don’t call me that.” she warned.

“Oh, did I touch a nerve? Don’t insult me, or my friend. If you mess with us like that again, we’re gonna have a real problem, Twinklehoo-''

She pounced on him the moment the word left his mouth, knocking him off the bench and onto the ground.“I told you not to call me that!” she screamed, wrestling Soarin on the ground. Leaf quickly jumped in to try and pry the mare off of him, but once a stray hoof smacked into his face, he backed off. The entire room froze in place to watch the fight, but it ended almost as quickly as it began, as the two cadets were pulled apart by none other than Swift Bullet.

“Ooooh, you two just made my day so much more exciting!” she smugly declared. “Day two, and you’re already fighting? Wow!” A devious smile grew on her face as she considered their punishment. “I’ll tell you what, I won’t report this little brawl… as long as you play by my rules. You two will get EXTRA work, EXTRA physical training and, you know what’s the best of all? You two are gonna spend the rest of basic as buddies! Ha! Isn’t that a total riot? From now on, I will not see you two more than twenty paces apart until you both graduate, understood?”

Soarin and Spitfire both looked at each other with the same horrified expression as they fell to their haunches.

“With her!?”

“With him!?”

“NOOO!!”

Author's Note

Welcome!
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Of Fire and Lightning. This is a story I've wanted to write for a while and I'm finally getting started.

If you enjoyed and would like to see more, please leave a like/comment. It helps a lot!
See you next chapter!

Chapter 2

“NO WAY!” The table erupted into laughter. Soarin rubbed his temples as he waited for everypony to settle down.

“So, you’re telling us that you and Spitfire started brawling on your second day of basic?” Misty Fly managed between bouts of laughter, which devolved into wheezing.

“Yes…”

“And you two got stuck with double work, too,” Thunderlane added. “Sweet Celestia, that’s hilarious.”

“Yeah, laugh it up. Ha ha.” Soarin mumbled before chugging the rest of his drink. “At the time, it really felt like my life was over. I was already in trouble, and I was stuck with a pony I hated, and hated me back.”

“But, I thought it was a love at first sight thing. Didn’t you say she caught your eye the first time you ever saw her?” Fleetfoot asked.

Soarin shook his head.“You would think, but far from it. Her attitude at the time killed any romantic interest I had. The next few weeks were some of the most miserable of my life. Probably hers too.” Soarin laughed. “We made sure the other was miserable.”

“Well, don’t leave us hanging,” Thunderlane pressed, putting his hoof on Soarin’s shoulder and playfully shoving him. “Tell us what happens next!”

“Fine, but I’ll need another drink…”

The two pegasi had been assigned bathroom duty after another round of physical training. They expected to be given actual cleaning supplies, but Bullet provided them with only a pair of old toothbrushes. They attempted to argue, but were quickly shut down and put to work.

“Wow. Thanks, prick,” Spitfire said, dragging her hooves. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you of all ponies.”

“Hey genius, dunno if you missed the memo, but I’m the one stuck here with you. This is all because of you.” Soarin growled. “You just had to attack me.”

“I warned you not to call me… that.”

“So what? What’s the big deal? Bullet called you Twinkleh-”

“Don’t.”

“Ugh. She called you that, so why can’t I?”

Spitfire looked at him like he was some kind of idiot. “Uh, she’s our superior? She can call me whatever she wants and I can’t do anything about it. You, though - I don’t even care if they kick me out for it. If you ever call me that again, I will atomize you.”

Soarin flinched. “But what’s the big deal with that name specifically? It’s not even that insulting,” he remarked, turning his head to look at her. She just grumbled in response. “Whatever,” he said, before continuing to scrub the tile floor with the toothbrush. “It’s your fault we’re stuck here. I’ll be waiting for your apology.”

They scrubbed the bathroom in silence after that. They each stayed on their separate sides, avoiding each other whenever possible, and this meant the middle of the bathroom wasn’t clean by the time Bullet returned to check their work. Fortunately for them, she seemed distracted with some paperwork on a clipboard, so she dismissed the two for the day along with the rest of the recruits.

“Bye bye, you two. Enjoy your bunks,” she said ominously. The two cadets eyed her cautiously, but moved on. Without speaking a word to each other, they headed back toward the barracks.

As they headed inside, Spitfire was the first to notice that her things had been moved. The bunk that was once hers was now empty. Soarin noticed her freeze, and as he followed her line of sight, he turned and noticed that his bunk was also empty. Slowly, their eyes shifted to the center of the room where a set of bunks sat conspicuously out in the open. On the top bunk were Soarin’s things, and Spitfire’s were on the bottom.

They jumbled their words as they tried to comprehend what was going on until Leaf approached Soarin from the side.

“I’m sorry, Soarin. She made us all move your things to the center bunk. Said that you and her are now bunkmates for the rest of basic.”

“Are you serious?!” Soarin and Spitfire both spewed out, staring at their new bunk. Soarin groaned and held his head between his hooves as he sat on the ground. Meanwhile, Spitfire shouted curses into the air, ripping the sheets off her new bed.

“I regret signing up for this,” Soarin mumbled.

“Alright Cadets, line up!” Bullet screamed into the crowd of recruits. The cold rain poured down on them unforgivingly as they fell into formation. Despite it being noon, the sky was as dark as night, with the bitter wind pulling the heat from their bodies. It was the worst rainstorm Soarin had ever seen.

“We are going to start the dreaded obstacle course. Today, we will set your base times.The average base time for new recruits is just under fourteen minutes. You can manage that, can’t you, cadets?

“YES DRILL SERGEANT!”

“Good. We will be running this course multiple times a week, giving you plenty of time to practice. You can also practice on your own time, if you want a gold star. Similar to today, a storm will be set up for the final course. It could be rain, it could be hail, it could be snow. So the rain today will offer a taste of what’s to come.”

Soarin stole a look over to his left, where Spitfire stood. Her coat was totally soaked through, and her mane had fallen flat over her eyes. She didn’t look happy.

“I expect you to decrease your time as you get used to the course. The average time for graduates, at the final run, is under eleven minutes. If you do not meet the Wonderbolt average within fifteen seconds for your final run, you will be dropped from the Academy. Your goal will be to finish with time to spare. Understood?”

“YES DRILL SERGEANT!”

“The Wonderbolts are a team, so you must learn how to work together.” Bullet emphasized this point by looking directly at Soarin and Spitfire. “The course will be run in pairs. Both ponies must cross the finish line at the same time to be counted. You will not receive points for beating your partner to the finish line. In fact, you will be penalized. Understood?”

“YES DRILL SERGEANT!”

Naturally, Soarin and Spitfire were forced to be partners, much to the horror of Leaf. He did manage to find himself a partner: Cirrus, a light blue mare who was nearly as tall as he was, Spitfire’s ex-partner. Then, once again to his horror, Leaf learned that he and Cirrus would be the first to go. He meekly waved at Soarin before being pushed up to the starting line.

“Remember cadets, teamwork is key. Instead of suffering over shortcomings, find ways to work around them together. Alright, are you ready?”

Cirrus loaded her weight onto her hind legs, clawing at the ground with a forehoof. Leaf stretched his neck from side to side and breathed deeply, starting forward toward the obstacle course.

“SET! GO!”

The obstacle course seemed pretty normal from a distance. There was a rope wall to climb, a mud pit and barbed wire to crawl under. There were concrete barriers to jump over and weave through. Though as they progressed through the course, the cadets would realize that hidden behind one of the taller obstacles was the tunnel; subject of legends and nightmares for dropouts and graduates alike. Finally, after making it to the end of the course, each cadet had to carry a heavy sandbag all the way back around and drop it at the starting line.

Leaf and Cirrus made it through the course in a respectable fourteen minutes and thirty-four seconds. The rest of the recruits lined up with their partners, waiting to go. Spitfire and Soarin were about to be the fourth out of ten teams to go through, but Bullet stopped them before they could move up to the starting line.

“Hold it, you two. You’re going last,” she said nonchalantly. “And I have an extra rule for you. Unlike all the others, you don’t get those precious fifteen seconds for your final run. Instead, you two will have to exceed the academy average by fifteen seconds during your final run, or I will expel you both.” She leaned in close to them. “Understood?”

Both cadets’ hearts froze in their chests.

“Y-yes, Drill Sergeant,” they managed to choke out.

“Good. So get in the back of the line. Move it.”

As the rest of Bullet company ran the course, Soarin and Spitfire watched the other recruits intently to see if they could learn any tricks to help them on the course. Soarin noted that they could avoid losing time on the mud crawl if they used their wings for more leverage. They stood in the torrential rain, being pelted by the sharp raindrops for a miserably long time before all the other teams had finished, leaving only Soarin and Spitfire behind the starting line.

Bullet addressed them in an unusually kind tone. “Alright, you two. Do your best, and remember, you have to cross the line together or it doesn’t count. Alright. Ready? Set, and… GO!” she shouted, as she clicked her stopwatch. Immediately, Soarin and Spitfire bounded down the open field to the first obstacle. There were a dozen tires that they had to run through, which they managed to do with little issue.

“Yeah! This isn’t so bad!” Soarin cheered, as they cleared the first obstacle and approached the second.

“Not yet at least…” Spitfire mumbled back. The pair then arrived at the second obstacle, which was a rope wall, but the catch was that they had to secure the rope themselves first. The wall was solid concrete except for a wooden post laid horizontally on top where they would have to feed the rope through.

“Okay, I’m gonna throw this rope up and over the top of the wooden thing. Get ready to grab it when it comes down.” Soarin called to Spitfire.

“Thanks for the heads up, Captain Obvious.”

Soarin shook his head, annoyed by her tone, before grabbing the rope with his teeth and preparing to toss it upwards. “Here it comes!” he yelled as he whipped his neck up and tossed the rope well over the wooden post and over to the other side. Spitfire grabbed the falling rope with her hooves and held it down.

With that success, they tied the rope to the hitch on the ground and started their ascent up the wall. They found that climbing a slick concrete wall in the pouring rain was no easy task, when they were forbidden from flying, and they both suffered a couple of hard falls before either of them made it over and down.

Next up, after a quarter mile run, was the barbed wire mud pit. Here they would have to crawl on their bellies through the sludge, while staying low enough that they didn’t scrape the barbed wire hanging above. Spitfire was the first to get down into the mud and start crawling, but as soon as she ducked under the first bit of barbed wire, she slipped and fell face first into the muck. Soarin couldn’t hold back his laughter, earning a dirty look from Spitfire. While she worked to pick herself back up, Soarin took the opportunity to pass her by.

“Cutting in line now? Are you a foal? Ugh! Whatever, just get going,” she barked, following him. The rain beat down even harder as they crawled through. It didn't help that the mud was well-trodden by now, with hoof-prints and tracks worn into it from the prior teams.

Soarin found himself behind Spitfire very quickly. She had somehow managed to get around and back in front of him as he struggled to push himself through the sludge. He sneered. As if he would let her of all ponies get ahead of him. Suddenly, an idea popped into Soarin’s head: what if he were to use his wings to help propel himself through the mud? Bullet had said they weren’t allowed to fly, but she had not forbidden them from using their wings altogether. Soarin silently praised himself for discovering such a perfect loophole.

He could use the opportunity to get past Spitfire once again and prove that he was more capable. He extended his wings, winced as he pushed them into the cold mud, and pushed himself forward. It seemed slightly easier to move, now, and he noticed he was getting closer to Spitfire. Soarin chuckled between breaths. He knew that it would work! He really was a genius.

Eventually, Spitfire must have noticed that she wasn’t gaining on him anymore, and she looked over her shoulder to see Soarin nearly on her tail.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“I’m using a new technique to wade through the mud,” he replied breathlessly as he continued his crawl forward.

“Cut that out! You’re just slowing us both down, and you’re covering yourself in mud, like an idiot.”

“Are you kidding me?” he laughed. “I’m about to pass you. You’re the one slowing us down now..”

“I’m trying to-” Spitfire began, but then she just sighed. “Whatever. I’ll just go back to slowing us down.” She suddenly picked up speed, and added a moment later, “Idiot.”

How could this be? She wasn’t even using her wings! - Soarin thought. He shouted, “Hey!” as she pushed ahead, but got sprayed by some mud she’d kicked up. He stopped completely to clear the stuff out of his eyes and nose, and by the time he was moving again, Spitfire had made up even more distance, and was soon out of the mud pit.

A sigh became a groan as Soarin pounded the ground with his hoof. He could accept that she was faster than him, but she didn’t have to be such a bitch about it.

The next obstacle was another climbing wall, but with no rope, and as he approached it he saw Spitfire looking up at the first hoofhold.

“Done crying?” Spitfire asked him. Then she looked at him, as if expecting an answer.

“Buck off,” he replied. “Let’s just get this over with…”

Spitfire nodded, and began climbing, with Soarin just behind her. The wall was twice as tall as they were long, and only had a dozen places for them to grab along one path - that meant the next spot Soarin went to grab was usually one Spitfire was still supporting herself on. There were a few awkward moments as he pinned Spitfire’s tail to the wall with an absent hoof, or as Spitfire had to step down to rearrange her hooves, forcing him down one step behind her.

When Spitfire reached the top, she climbed up and straddled the wall, waiting for Soarin to catch up. “Okay,” she said, “I don’t see any hoofholds on the way down. We’re gonna have to… help each other down.” As he reached the top of the wall and pulled himself on top, he peered over the edge to see for himself.

“It doesn’t look too bad. We can probably get down ourselves,” he replied, trying his best to avoid having to accept her help.

“Don’t be petty. Do you want to finish this course, or not?” Spitfire snapped, receiving a sigh in response.

“Fine. Mares first.”

“Alright, let’s get this over with…” Spitfire said as she kicked her hind legs over the wall and reached out a hoof to Soarin, who reluctantly grabbed it with his own. “Going down…” she said, as she slowly started down the wall. The rain continued to beat down upon both of them, and to his horror, Soarin noticed that he was losing his grip on Spitfire. A combination of the caked-on mud, pouring rain and exhaustion caused his grip on her to start slipping. He grit and ground his teeth as he tried his best to adjust his grip, which worked for a few seconds, but then the mud caused both of their grasps to fail. Spitfire screamed as she tumbled down the side of the concrete wall, followed soon after by Soarin, whose balance relied on holding onto another pony. They both smacked into the muddy pit at the bottom of the wall. Spitfire had landed square on her back, knocking the wind out of her and rendering her unable to even vocalize the pain. Soarin breathed sharply through his teeth as his shoulder emanated a dull, aching pain. He breathlessly let out an apology, but she didn’t respond - either she couldn’t hear him, or she wasn’t feeling so talkative at the moment. After a few moments to catch their breath and shake off their injuries, they wordlessly trudged forward to the next challenge.

The next obstacle was a forest of concrete pillars and beams, dense enough that they couldn’t see straight through more than a few meters. Inside, they had to crawl, turn, weave, and jump through the barriers, as the paths twisted, doubled back, or ended abruptly. Many transition spaces in the concrete maze were tight enough, or tall enough, that the two cadets needed to help each other to make their way through, but none were as difficult as the prior obstacles.

Soon, they both reached the end of the forest, and slowed down to catch their breath and brace themselves for the most infamous and dreaded part of the course: the tunnel. A concrete pipe half-buried in a mound of gravel, with the other end appearing 80 meters away, it wasn’t too inviting from the outside. But they knew that it wasn’t straight - there were twists and turns underground that extended the obstacle and made the center of it pitch black, even on a bright day, and in a storm like this one, the deeper sections would be flooded.

Spitfire stood only a few paces away from the entrance, seeming frozen in place. Almost as if she were hypnotized by the pure darkness within the tunnel. Tired of waiting, Soarin trudged past her through a trail of mud toward the entrance, but then was knocked down onto his face by Spitfire.

“Out of my way, prick, I’m going first,” she mumbled, as she ducked into the tunnel. “Not getting stuck behind you again…”

Soarin groaned and shook the mud off of himself. “Horsefeathers!” He got down low to enter the mouth of the tunnel and crawled inside. The tunnel was already flooded by a few inches of water as well as a layer of mud below that. His ears flattened against his head, as he was wary of the low ceiling, and he kept low to manage on the curved, scummy floor, but soon he found that he could stand fully upright, and walk normally without issue. The space looked smaller than it really was. Spitfire was moving quickly, but she seemed to adapt to this slower than Soarin.

The first section was fairly trivial, but about a dozen meters in, they found the first corner. There they could still see the curved walls, and the ripples of the water at their hooves, but after the turn there was just a fade into darkness. When Soarin looked down the tunnel, it felt as if there was a wet towel pressed over his eyes, and the feeling deepened as they moved further. The passage became louder as they descended, paradoxically, as the water rose up to their fetlocks and the increasing sounds of splashing and breathing reflected back at them from all sides. Soarin now understood why this was the stuff of nightmares.

He followed Spitfire as they descended further into the tunnel, far enough down that the water was nearly up to their shoulders, and running became difficult. The air was stale and warm and humid down here, and the space small enough that the sound from every labored breath, every rushing heartbeat, seemed to be directed into his skull. Spitfire was having trouble here. She moved slowly, but she panted as if she was in a constant sprint.

Soarin tried to just focus on getting through the tunnel, rather than on his frustrating partner, but a few more turns, and another dozen meters into the tunnel, by his reckoning, he suddenly bumped into Spitfire, and got a face full of tail.

“Hey,” she said, in a warning tone.

He apologized, more out of a reflex than anything, and continued moving after giving her some space. But soon after that he just bumped into her again.

“Hey!” Spitfire shouted. “Idiot. This is hard enough without you bumping into me.”

Soarin was about to apologize again, but he bit his tongue. He knew she had slowed down. “Wouldn’t be a problem if you moved faster,” he argued.

Spitfire stopped moving completely, forcing Soarin to stop as well, and huffed in anger. “I can’t just gallop through here,” she said, slowly, though with an odd wavering quality, “because I can’t see. I’d just smack into the next corner.”

“Doesn’t seem that hard,” Soarin scoffed. “Maybe I should go in front-”

“In your dreams!” Spitfire laughed, and started moving again. “I said I wasn’t getting stuck behind you again, and-”

Spitfire was interrupted by a sudden splash, and began to struggle and thrash in the water. Soarin couldn’t tell what was happening - Was she being attacked? Had something happened to the tunnel? - but soon realized that she had merely slipped, and was struggling to find her footing again. He sighed and went to help her up, but that was easier thought than done.

“Where are you?” he asked. Spitfire coughed and sputtered in the darkness right in front of him. “Just - just stop flailing around so much,” he muttered, as he carefully stepped closer to her, feeling for hooves or wings - anything he could support her by. When he did find her, and bent down to try to grab her, he was hit in the face by a rogue hoof. He lost his balance and fell sideways into the side of the tunnel.

“Shit!” he cried. He pressed a hoof to his face to check if he was bleeding, but, being blind and nearly submerged, there was no way to tell. Soarin screamed at Spitfire, “This is stupid! Just stop panicking!”

Spitfire did not stop panicking immediately, but the splashing and struggling did slow down. Soarin’s heart sank when he considered that she might actually be drowning, but he was relieved to hear a ragged breath of air followed by a racking cough.

Soarin waited until her breathing was more under control before he spoke up again. By that time, she was still shivering violently. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.”

There was a long moment before Spitfire responded, “No.”

He figured she would say that. “What happened?”

“I- I can’t move,” she squeaked.

“You’re stuck?”

“No, I… it’s so dark…”

“It’s been dark this whole time!” Soarin laughed. “Come on, if you can talk, you can walk, at least. We’re losing time here.”

“It’s more than that, you idiot! It’s just so cramped in here and I- I can’t see anything!”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“And the air in here, I can’t breath, I…”

“You were doing fine before!”

“It just keeps getting deeper, so- so if we…”

“We’ve just got to keep moving.”

“N-No!” Spitfire shrieked, her breaths fast and labored. “I-I-I think we’re stuck! Help, somepony!”

“Listen,” Soarin begged, “You…” but he trailed off. Spitfire was taking a deep breath. He covered his ears.

The mare screamed, until her lungs were empty, “HEEEEEEELP!!!”

Soarin cringed. “Gah!”

The sound reflected back at them from every angle, making it feel like she was screaming directly into Soarin’s ears, and it was followed by a long series of echoes from up and down the tunnel. Soon enough afterwards, Spitfire took another deep breath, and screamed for help again.

“Ow!” Soarin screeched, considering diving under the water to muffle the sound.. “Shut up! They’re going to think somepony died down here!!”

“I’m trapped! I can’t breathe! HEEELP!”

“Celestia, damn it!” he snapped as he grew increasingly worried about their time. “You’re not trapped, you featherbrain.” He had no way of knowing how much time they had already spent on the course, and now they were both stuck here in the tunnel.

“No! Soarin, I can’t breathe in here! I’m suffocating! Help!” she screamed.

“Ugh! We don’t have time for this,” Soarin groaned as he moved up behind Spitfire, put his shoulders against her flanks, and began to push.

“W-what are you doing!?” she screeched with surprise.

“I don’t have time for this,” he repeated. “I’m not about to get kicked out of the Wonderbolts because you’re claustrophobic. I’ll drag you the whole way, if I have to, but I’m getting out of here.”

“W-w-wha,” she sputtered, but she didn’t resist beyond that, nor did she try to move on her own.

Soarin had to shove her through the tunnel by sheer force, and he was working against the friction of her hooves, the weight of the water, and the slippery mud and scum on the tunnel’s round floor. It felt like hours passed. Thick beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. His legs were sore and cramped, and the going was unsteady. But the water level gradually dropped as he started to move upwards, so he was able to lower his head and partially lift Spitfire over his shoulders. Eventually he could see light in the distance.

“Yes! Yes! We’re almost out!” he cheered. Just a little longer. The light grew brighter and brighter, almost blinding, and Soarin kept pushing until he could see the sky above him - then he collapsed, and the two cadets were sprawled out in a giant puddle of mud that had collected at the exit of the tunnel.

Spitfire seemed to snap out of her daze almost instantly, as she realized she was out in the open. She spread out her wings as far as they would go and stretched her limbs out. Then she looked down at Soarin. She just stared at him for a long time, giving him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher.

Soarin managed to say, between breaths, “You’re welcome.” She huffed and turned away, but Soarin could see the tension fade from her shoulders as they relaxed. He dragged himself upright. Every muscle in his body screamed out in agony, but there wasn’t any time to spare. They still had one last challenge to complete before they could reach the end. The sandbag run.

They both trudged ahead, towards the end of the course. Spitfire wasn’t moving as quickly as she had before, but neither was Soarin. He was exhausted. Every step he took through the rain felt like it could be his last. Fortunately, the location of the sandbags wasn’t far from the tunnel’s exit. Two bags of sand sat under a wooden awning, somewhat protected from the pouring rain. Soarin picked up one of the bags and draped it over Spitfire's back before grabbing the final bag and throwing it over his own. He noticed her hesitate and freeze in place, looking back at the tunnel. Down there was one thing, but even now that they were out in the open, she wasn’t behaving normally.

“You alright?” he asked genuinely, stopping for a moment. He noticed her tense up once more, but as she turned around as if to say something, she stopped herself when she looked back at Soarin. Her eyes shifted downward before she replied.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she said as she started towards the finish line. “The quicker we can get to the finish, the quicker we can get out of this rain.”

Soarin couldn’t help but agree. Together, they stumbled toward the finish line with what little energy that they had left. The fierce wind sent sharp, blinding rain into their faces. Even so, the yellow flags indicating the finish line were soon visible. They could ignore the pain, the cold, the battering storm, now that the end was in sight. The moment they crossed, they both flung their sandbags off of their backs and collapsed onto the ground.

“Well, you two sure don’t disappoint,” Bullet announced, as she approached them. “Twenty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds. You’ve broken the academy record for the slowest completed obstacle run. That doesn’t count dropouts.” She waited for a response, but two cadets were still fighting for their breath in the mud. She looked down at them. “I’d like to be able to say that you made a good pace before the tunnel, but you didn’t. You were still well below average. I’m a tall enough mare to admit when I’m wrong, and I was wrong in thinking you two had potential. You have disappointed me.”

A few seconds passed before Swift Bullet turned and walked away. Soarin and Spitfire laid where they fell, their bodies aching and cold. The only things they could hear were the torrential, unrelenting rain, and each other, breathing.

Author's Note

Get it? She's a tall enough mare? Cuz she's short? LOL LMAO.

This chapter has been partially re-written as of 6/21/22.

Please leave a like/comment it helps a lot!

Chapter 3

“This is all your fault. I’m going to be washed out and it’s all your fault,” Soarin choked out as he rolled over in the mud to turn and face his partner. He glowered at the yellow mare in front of him, who stared back with equal resentment. “If it weren’t for you and that damn tunnel, we might’ve passed. We’ve been here for like two days, and soon enough we’ll be packing our bags to go home, so thanks a lot.”

“Celestia! How dense can you be?” Spitfire screamed as she bashed the growing puddle beneath her. “Yes, I got stuck. I’m sorry that I’m a pegasus! Sorry that I hate tight spaces, but you must be one stupid bastard if you really thing that I slowed us down that much.”

“I-” Soarin started, but he stopped himself as his thoughts caught up to him. She could provoke him, they could be at this for hours, but he was just tired of it. So he shook his head. “Whatever. I’m going back to my bunk,” Soarin grunted, ending any chance at furthering the conversation. To his surprise, Spitfire was fine with this, and silently followed him back to the barracks.

Their duties were completed for the day after a few more rounds of physical training. They had nothing else to do other than retire to their barracks, or head to the mess hall; both chose the former. As Soarin lay in his bed silently, he noticed a familiar laugh. His eyes scanned the room and he saw that Leaf was not at his own bunk, but rather was sitting on Cirrus’ bunk next to her, chatting away.

Though he couldn’t make out what they were talking about, he was able to tell that Leaf spoke with an enthusiasm that he hadn’t spoken to Soarin with. He just had this goofy smile plastered onto his face the entire time. At some point Cirrus put her hoof on Leaf’s shoulder - they both blushed and looked away from each other. Soarin, watching on, felt his stomach churn.

Why am I having such an awful experience while everypony else seems to be doing okay? He thought, as he lay his head onto his hooves, no longer able to watch. Even Leaf seems to be doing something right. His jealousy started to build up deep down. As he lay there, trapped within his own thoughts, he swore he could hear sniffling coming from the bunk beneath him.

“Cadet Soarin! Cadet Spitfire!” the voice cut through the din of the barracks. Standing in the doorway was a tan mare with a darker brown mane tied tightly into a bun. She was dressed in a neat service uniform, and had a clipboard tucked underneath her left wing. She continued, “Report to Staff Sergeant Swift Bullet’s office ASAP. I’m Corporal Windy Wisp, I’m here to collect you.”

Soarin’s stomach dropped. He leaned over the edge of his bed to see Spitfire looking back up to him, her brows knitted in confusion, but as she looked at Soarin, her face went instantly pale. He knew it, she knew it: this was the end. They were getting expelled.

Slowly, the two pegasi headed towards Windy Wisp, who then sharply turned and headed out the door. Once they exited the barracks, they noticed the rain and wind waning, and the storm receding, as teams of pegasi worked to clear out the sky. The sun shone brightly down upon them as they both looked at each other with the same somber expression, and after sharing a deep breath, they followed the ferrymare, and crossed the river to the great beyond.

Soarin and Spitfire stood at the door to Bullet’s office, no longer soaked to the bone, but still damp enough to leave lingering smells of petrichor. Windy Wisp had led them to the mare’s office and then vanished before they had a chance to thank her. Spitfire’s dancelike gait was all but gone, replaced by a greatly stiffer posture, while Soarin’s entire body shook with anxiety. Spitfire raised a hoof and knocked on the door curtly before taking two steps back.

“Come in.”

The two cadets entered the office to see Bullet at her desk, writing away on a notepad with a pen clutched in her teeth. Once she saw who stood in front of her, she spit the pen out onto her desk, and leaned back in her chair.

“Finally. Took you long enough. Oh, sorry. My fault. I should’ve expected that from the two slowest recruits.” She smirked as she took a sip from a mug on her desk, then cringed and set it back down, and the expression fell from her face. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Um, well, we came in here to talk about our performance today, Drill Sergeant,” Spitfire answered.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. And call me ma’am. I’m not your drill instructor right now.”

“... Yes ma’am.” Spitfire replied, cautiously.

“It’s no secret that your performance could be considered ‘bottom of the barrel,’ so to speak. Would you agree?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they both responded glumly.

“It was bad from every point of view, and you two have failed at the very thing that this course is meant to teach.”

Bullet stood and walked over to a chalkboard on her wall and promptly erased the various schedules she had written. She then gripped a wooden stick with a piece of chalk on the end with her teeth and drew an L-shaped graph.

“Do you know how a Wonderbolt is chosen among hundreds of phenomenal candidates?”

“Acrobatics?”

“Time attack?”

“Wrong, and wrong. The way Wonderbolts are chosen almost has nothing to do with skill,” Bullet said through her teeth as she wrote ‘Performance’ on the Y axis, and ‘Trust’ on the X axis. “What do you think we look for in a Wonderbolt? Where would they be on this chart? Spitfire?”

“Uh… High performance?”

“Impressive, you gave me half an answer. Everypony wants a high performing, high trust candidate, too bad they’re near impossible to find. Nopony wants low performing, low trust candidates. That’s clear. But what about the other combination, high performance, low trust? Soarin, would you like having a wingpony like that?”

“I- I don’t know. I guess not,” he replied.

“The answer is ‘No.’ You may trust that pony with doing their job or even your life, but would you trust them with your bank account? Would you trust them with your special somepony? No, you wouldn’t. This pony would be a toxic leader and a toxic team member. What about low performing, but highly trustworthy? Spitfire?”

“Uhhh…” she hesitated, flickering her eyes between Bullet and the chalkboard. Bullet’s gaze bore into Spitfire as she waited for an answer. “No? Because they wouldn’t be able to keep up?”

“Maybe so, but that’s a pony that I would rather have on my team, or as my wingpony than any high performance, low trust individual. Becoming a Wonderbolt is not about how well you are able to perform individually, it’s how much you can lift up and support your teammates. Individual performance is important too, but in the end, I’d rather have a trustworthy wingpony than the best flier. As of right now, you two are low performance, low trust; you are not Wonderbolt material; and if you don’t change, you never will be.”

“Permission to speak, ma’am?” Soarin asked. Spitfire stared at him, but said nothing.

“Granted.”

“Are we going to be expelled?”

“I want to,” she replied curtly, subtly clenching her jaw. “I really do, and I’ve been advised that I should, but I have a gut feeling that I can’t shake.” Bullet said squinting at Soarin, Spitfire and then back again. “I think I’ll take this time to talk with you one on one. Spitfire, leave the room. Go out, to the left and beyond the glass door. Wait there on the couch until I send Soarin to come get you.”

The two cadets exchanged a confused glance before Spitfire turned and walked out the door. Soarin watched her shut it behind her before turning his attention back towards Bullet.

“Spitfire slowed us d-”

“Did I give you permission to speak, cadet?” Bullet raised her voice, silencing Soarin. “That’s what I thought. Did you get anything I just said through your thick skull? Do you need me to spell it out for you? Again?”

“Uh- I… I…”

“Disappointing. You are disappointing,” she replied, shaking her head. “Your partner was not the reason you two performed so poorly on the course. You were. She held a quicker pace through the course, and you dragged behind, holding her back.”

Soarin’s eyes shot wide open as he stared at her. He was about to open his mouth to say something, but a glare from Bullet kept him quiet. She picked up a notepad off of her desk and flipped it open.

“Let’s see… Slow at the tires. Slow at the first wall.. You did manage to beat pace at the quarter-mile by about four seconds, but things really started to go south in the mud pit. Some argument about a-” She glanced up at him. “New technique?”

Soarin’s shoulders sagged and his nose nearly touched the floor. His body felt as thought it was shrinking into itself.

“Whatever that was all about, it kept you two bickering for the rest of the course, which especially hurt your time on the second wall. Your stubbornness was clearly holding you back throughout the concrete jungle, and didn’t help you too much in the tunnel, either.”

Soarin’s eyes lit up at the mention of the tunnel, but Bullet held a hoof up to keep him quiet. “I know you’re excited to whine about the tunnel, but let’s just take a step back. You two spent seven minutes in that tunnel, and twenty-nine on the whole course.”

She shut her notepad and tossed it back on her desk.

“If you’re as slow as I remember, you’re not capable of doing math, so let me fill you in. You think your partner was the reason you did so poorly? What’s twenty-nine minus seven? It’s twenty-two. What’s the average completion time for the entire course? It’s fourteen. Even if we discount the tunnel completely, you’ve still got the worst time in my unit.”

Bullet looked back at Soarin and sighed before leaning forward in her chair. “Look. All that I said about trustworthiness? I was specifically talking about you. You’re supposed to cooperate with your partner, but instead you act like you’re competing with her, and it’s slowing you both down. If she can’t trust you on the ground, in a controlled environment, how could she possibly trust you in the air, where one wrong move or miscommunication could get somepony killed?”

Soarin couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Ma’am, respectfully…” He paused, and considered what he’d say as Bullet raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t think of anything compelling. “Spitfire’s- I mean, I can’t work with her. She’s impossible. She’s-”

“No, Soarin,” Bullet interrupted him. “Whatever you might respectfully say about your partner, this is on you. What she did wrong is not your concern. And right now, when I think about whether or not to expel the both of you, you’re the deciding factor. And it’s close.”

Soarin’s head was still low to the ground, no longer able to look at Bullet. Noticing this, she sighed.

“That’s enough. Get out, and send Spitfire in on your way.”

“Yes ma’am,” he lamented as he saluted her half-heartedly, and exited the room. His hooves scraped the dark wooden floors of the office as he walked down the hallway past the glass door. He continued walking until the hallway opened up into the waiting room where Spitfire sat stiffly on a degrading, old cloth couch. From a distance, he could tell that her entire body was shaking, but as he got closer, he found it impossible to look up at her. He tried to shift his eyes upward, but he just couldn’t. He stood within hoof’s reach of her, but neither pony said a word. The silence lingered for a second before he heard her speak up.

“I… I guess it’s my t-turn then,” she sputtered, her voice clearly uneasy. He listened to her hoofsteps as she went around him and made her way back to Bullet’s office. The sound echoed into the distance. His eyes remained on the wooden floor beneath him. He felt imprisoned by a growing wall of guilt encircling him. His heart hammered in his chest as he suddenly felt an urge to run, forever, far from here, and never stop. So he ran.

He ran out of the building and past the barracks. He found himself running along the trail for the three mile run, but as soon as he processed this, he jerked a sharp breath and turned off the trail and directly into the heart of the forest. His peripheral vision blackened and soon he could see nearly nothing but what was immediately in front of him.

He ran for what felt like an eternity. His already exhausted muscles screamed in agony. His heart pumped what felt like acid through his veins. Eventually the trees thinned, and Soarin noticed he was approaching a cliff. He slowed his sprint into a jog and then a walk. He approached the edge and looked over the grand landscape. In the far distance, he could see the small speck that was Canterlot hanging off the side of a tall mountain.

He couldn’t hold in what he was feeling for a second longer, so he screamed. He screamed off the edge until his voice was completely hoarse, and kept screaming until he couldn’t make another sound. He collapsed onto the ground when his exhaustion caught up to him once more, and he lay in the dirt, alone, sobbing silently to himself.

Three days had passed since Soarin and Spitfire were called into Bullet’s office. Over those three days they had not exchanged a single word, despite being next to each other the entire time. Soarin wasn’t even able to speak to Leaf, but he hadn’t seen him much anyway since his pairing with Cirrus.

Spitfire was the first to break the silence between them by making small talk on the fourth day, and when she didn’t receive a reply she would just continue talking as if she had. Soarin wanted to say something back so badly, but he still found it impossible to even look at her. When he would try to speak to her, his throat would burn and his chest would contract with his festering anxieties.

On the fifth day, time had come again for them to run the course, however their time had only improved by a couple minutes. Soarin still trailed behind Spitfire in the obstacle course, and Spitfire had to be pushed through the tunnel yet again. Soarin looked at Bullet in hopes of some positive feedback, but she silently shook her head at him and walked away. Spitfire did not notice, and instead seemed content with the improved time.

They walked back to the barracks together, Spitfire humming a tune to herself while walking in her odd, dancy style. Soarin, however, stared at the ground in front of himself as he walked. His head hung low and his wings dropped lazily, dragging on the ground beside him.

“Why are you being so quiet?” Spitfire snapped, finally getting sick of his demeanor over the past few days. “Aren’t you happy that we did better this time?”

“I- No. It wasn’t good enough,” Soarin mumbled, raising his head in another failed attempt to look at her.

“What? We were more than two minutes faster than last time.”

“It’s not enough,” he sighed.

“I mean, I guess it’s not, but it is better. You can’t deny that,” she replied.

Soarin just let gravity pull his head back toward the ground.

“Why are you acting like this?” she growled, getting in front of him and stopping in her tracks. “I thought you pissed me off when you acted normally, but no, this is worse. I’m sick of it.” She stomped the ground with a hoof to make her point.

Soarin stopped briefly, only to decide to step around her and continue walking forward.

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you. I asked you a question. Don’t walk away from me!” she yelled after Soarin.

He stopped, his shoulders raised and his ears down, but he didn’t face her.

“I… ” was all he could say before he could feel his gut twist and turn enough for him to double over. He clenched his teeth as his anxiety crushed him.

Spitfire came to his side with a frown.

“Look at me.”

“I…”

“Look. At. Me.”

“I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“Soarin,” Spitfire said, “I’m not asking.”

Soarin felt his heart race. He could feel his blood pumping in his ears, and his airways felt closed off. He realized that he couldn’t get out of this. No matter how he tried, she wouldn’t let him. Slowly, he turned toward Spitfire. He stared at the dirt and grass beneath her hooves before shutting his eyes tight. The pains in his chest were sharper now. With a deep breath, he raised his head and opened his eyes to see Spitfire in front of him. It was the first time he’d been able to look at her in days.

“There you go. That wasn’t hard, was it?” she asked him. He stared into her eyes and fought back some tears that began to well up. She smiled at him, but didn’t say anything more. After a few seconds of holding eye contact, Soarin had to look away.

Spitfire sighed and her smile fell. “Look. I know why you’re angry at me.”

This caught Soarin by surprise. “Angry at you?” he asked, bewildered.

“I’m going to get us both kicked out because I keep getting stuck in the course. That’s what Bullet told me. I know that’s why you’re angry at me.”

“I’m not angry at you…”

“Then why haven’t you been talking to me? Or looking at me? You must be upset at me.”

“I’m not angry at you, Spitfire!” Soarin sighed, turning away from her. “I-I’m ashamed, of myself. You're not the reason we’ll be kicked out. I am. I’m sorry.”

“W-what?”

“Bullet told me that I’m the reason we’re failing so hard. You getting stuck is nothing compared to how much I’m slowing you down in the rest of the course. I’m sorry for failing you. I’m sorry that I’m the reason that you’re getting held b-back.” He nearly choked on his words as the lump in his throat seemed to grow.

“Soarin…”

“You didn’t deserve it, and I was punishing you for my own failure. I’m sorry, Spitfire.”

“It’s not-”

“I know I’m failing you, but I’m doing whatever I can to get better. It’s not right for me to drag somepony down with my own problems. For your sake, I’m going to do everything I can to make things right.” There was a pause after he finished. Spitfire’s eyes softened and she unclenched her jaw.

“Well…. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for getting stuck in the tunnel. I’m not sure what it is that makes me freeze in there, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m sorry for provoking you, I was just trying to be friendly, but I guess it backfired.”

Soarin looked back up, meeting Spitfire’s eyes. Her face was slightly damp from silently shedded tears. Her golden irises seemed to glitter at him as she smiled. With another deep burning sensation inside his chest, he couldn’t help but smile back. The stress appeared to leave his body, and his stiff demeanor crumbled away.

The metaphorical wall that the two cadets had built between each other over the past week crumbled and burned down as they looked at each other in a blissful silence. The Wonderbolt academy wasn’t a place for hotshots to show off what they know. It was to learn teamwork. Trust. As Soarin looked at his partner, he noticed that her shoulders seemed more relaxed than before. He had thought she was already relaxed, but it was clear as day now that she was just as stressed as he was, even if she didn’t show it. He took catharsis in watching her stress melt away even by a little bit.

Soarin finally broke the silence. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to get kicked out of the Academy.”

Spitfire smiled back. “Me neither.”

“From now on, we work together as a team. I help you and you help me. You and me, actual partners from now on. Whatdya say?” Soarin reached out a hoof to her. She looked down at it and then back up to him and chuckled.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Spitfire laughed. She reached out and bumped his hoof with his own. “Done deal.”

“Huh, you two got along a lot quicker than I thought.” Misty Fly said, popping a peanut into her mouth. “Honestly, If any stallion acted like such a dick to me, I’d probably knock his block off right then and there.”

Soarin cringed at the thought. “Yeah, well there’s no denying that I was in the wrong, but she did provoke me.”

“Don’t shift the blame!”

“Alright, fine, fine,” he admitted. “You win. Anyway, That was the start of a long and painful process of, well… learning to work with each other. I don’t know about Spitfire, but I slept like a rock that night. Nearly missed morning PT, which would’ve been a disaster all by itself, but starting the next day, we made it our mission to beat Bullet’s time. Not by fifteen seconds, but by thirty, and time was our enemy. We only had about seven weeks to pull ourselves together. And we had no idea how rough it was about to be.”

Author's Note

What will Soarin and Spitfire do to save their sorry butts? Find out next time!

WOO It took a while, but it's finally here. This was a painful one and had to go through multiple rewrites, COVID, moving, and family emergencies, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

*Note: I've re-written chapter 2 as well, so if you're a returning reader, go back and check it out.*

Leave a like/comment if you enjoyed. Thanks!