The Lost Girls

“So you just . . . died?” Rolling Thunder asked me as she supportively held the other end of the large black punching bag I was rhythmically punching within this gym we liked to share together. “Oy mean . . . in this dream ya had of yours, luv?”

“I guess so,” I said with a shrug as I continued punching. “I mean . . . the next thing I knew, I woke up back in my family home with my sister. What else was I supposed to assume?”

“And, ah . . . ya don't feel no craving for blood, don't'cha?” Thunder checked with a teasing grin.

I scoffed for a second as I passed her a, “Get real” kind of expression.

“Oy! Ya can't fault an ol' lass lahk me for at least finding the idea fascinating,” Thunder said with a coy grin as she continued to hold the punching bag steady. “Oy mean, ya can't deny the fact 'at there are some mysteries we ponies don't understand out on these here parts. We been right touring all over Equestria, we rightly did, and seen some weird stuff along the way.” She gazed beyond me as she asked somepony else a question. Probably Short Fuse. “Ain't that right, ya ol' bug'ah?

“You call this equipment CLEAN?!” I heard Short Fuse yell at somepony else behind me. “EVEN FLIES WOULD STICK THEIR NOSES UP AT THIS IN DISDAIN!”

I paused for a second as I partially turned my head in Short Fuse's direction and turned my ears above my head even further at her. In doing so, I noticed the unusually short, downright adorable foal-sized adult red pegasus who flew up to be at even head height with somepony else who probably was an employee at this gym. As Short Fuse flew, I could see him strained during his outburst, such as neck veins popping off his neck or red cracks spreading on the white of his eyes. His face was also turning a darker shade of red.

“I'm sorry, Sir,” replied what was probably a panicked employee at this establishment. “We'll clean that up for you right away.”

“LIKE TARTARUS YOU WILL!!!” Fuse screeched back. “YOU'LL BUY ME A WHOLE SET OF NEW EQUIPMENT FOR THIS GRIEVOUS INSULT. HECK. WHY DON'T YOU BUY AN ENTIRELY NEW GYM WHILE YOU'RE AT IT?!

“SWEET PONY FEATHERS! WHY AM I CONSTANTLY SURROUNDED BY SUCH UTTERLY INCOMPETENT MORONS?!”

A faint, fond grin grew on my lips before I redirected my attention back at my punching bag then resumed my punches.

Sweet Celestia, I so missed these two! In there, with them, I felt like I finally returned home, or at least paying my “true” home a visit.

“Goo' ol' Short Fuse,” Rolling Thunder said with an amused chuckle and a shake of her head. “Always gaught tah be riled up about somethin', don' 'E?”

I paused for a second as I collected my breath, shook my head, and expressed as I resumed punching, “Sweet Celestia, I really miss you two.”

“Us too, luv,” Thunder replied with an even look of fondness at me. “Show ain't rightly been the same since ya left, mate.”

“But you two are continuing?” I asked with hope in my voice.

She nodded and said, “Aye, but lahk Oy said, it ain't been the same without ya. Ya're usually the one to schedule and arrange all the stunts and whatnot.” She gave a devious grin as she added, “And ya always got a sinister mind at it. I've always loved that about ya.”

I frowned a bit as I continued punching while I said, “Alas, I cannot, as much as I might like to.”

“Well, it rightly would be nice if these here ol' 'ShadowBolts' or whatnot really did exist,” Rolling Thunder mused aloud. “Apart from apparently trying to kill ya, they sounded like they hoofled themselves rightly well up in yon sky. Ain't many that can keep up with yar hide, that's for bloody true.”

I didn't say anything to that. I just kept punching.

“So, eh . . . how are all the ol' things out on yon homestead?” Thunder checked.

“I don't want to talk about it,” I replied glumly.

“Aw, come on there, luv. Don't be lahk that. If ya can't trust yee ol' partner in crime with ya secrets, who can ya trust? Come on, then. Out with it, luv. Lay it all on goo' ol' Thun'dah.”

I paused as I sighed then asked, “You sure you want to know?” Before she replied, I resumed a combo of punching.

“'Tis goo' tah get it off ya chest, luv,” she told me. “Even yo strong shoulders can't take endless presh'sah wit'out end. That’s for true.”

I sighed again before I replied, “Well, if you must know, I'm peeved.”

“Whoa!” Thunder exclaimed in shock. “Ain't that a bit harsh?”

“Are you kidding me?!” I growled as I punched much faster. “First I get kicked out of the Wonderbolts, then I form the most awesome flying team in the sky only to get dragged from that by my very own sister . . . and it isn't even her fault!”

Thunder regarded the punching bag itself as my punches not only picked up amazing speed, but also power.

“So who am I going to blame for all of this misfortune, huh?” I snapped irritably. “Whose head should I punch at till it's spinning several times?

“I just can't take all of this shameless surrender! I feel like I should be crushing something, not lying down and taking it as if my hindlegs were spread.”

“Ah . . . mate,” Thunder said with a voice of rising caution as I continued my rapid barrage of punches.

“Why did this have to happen to me, huh? Tell me why?!” I practically screeched. “I had a good thing going! A very good thing. When I founded The Washouts, it felt like I discovered my cutie mark all over again! It was my destiny . . . and now it's ALL RIPPED APART FROM ME!”

By that time, without me consciously realizing it, I was punching the bag in a blur of motion. I averaged about forty-seven punches per second across twelve seconds, and every single one of those punches landed with the force of a professional boxer taking his or her time to wind up for their most devastating punch they could possibly do in their entire career. As I continued, I started to rapidly punch a bunch of holes in the punching bag which thus proceeded to leak sand like blood would from a pony body.

To complete that combo, I screamed in rage at the top of my lungs before whirling about and kicking the sandbag with all of my might. The force of that blow not only launched Rolling Thunder back and crashed her into the wall hard enough to spread cracks in it, but I also cleaved the sandbag in half. It proceeded to dump all the rest of its sand on the floor the very next second.

Stunned silence froze all other activity in the room. As it continued, I gradually noticed as I returned to my senses.

After crashing into the wall, Rolling Thunder slid down onto the floor with an utterly stunned and dazed look on her face. Next, she coughed out a bit of blood before looking back at me with almost bloodshot eyes and she exclaimed loudly, “Holy cow!!! How'd ya do that, luv? Most mares who retire from some intense sports usually get weak'ah over time, but wowie-wow! What's ya secret, luv? Ya gaught tah tell ya ol' pal Thun'dah!”

The others gazed at me with awe and some of them with horror. I, meanwhile, widened my eyes with utter terror.

How did I do that?! Did it have anything to do with that dream?

Or was it a dream? Because, if not, there were far more dire implications in place.

Feeling overwhelmed and, quite frankly, panicked, I quickly snatched my black leather jacket that was draped on the then vacant weight lifting bench then bolted out of the gym as fast as my legs could carry me. Along my way out, I heard Thunder's concerned cries attempt to follow after me.

I stumbled into an alleyway in between two buildings within Pony Island Fairgrounds. I did so to get some shelter from this awful daylight.

It was so interesting to recall feeling like I was strong enough to demolish a building with my bare hooves back at the gym until I rushed outside into the broad daylight. The moment I had, I felt my hide start to burn and my vision was blinded. Thank goodness I got my leather jacket on to give me some sun protection as well as the sunglasses I had in my inner coat pocket which I also wore.

Initially I came back to this park to find out if those mares I met last night even existed at all, but as I flew there, I found that I was quickly losing strength. It became very dangerous to remain aloft as I continued the journey. Still, I barely made it eventually, only I didn't feel like I had the strength to search these Fairgrounds for any of the ShadowBolts anymore.

I crouched over deeply as I applied an elbow against one of the walls between the alleyway. As I did so, I struggled to catch my breath. Each breath I took felt scorching hot. It seemed to do so little to supply my body with muchly needed oxygen, yet I pressed on anyway because the only alternative was to stop breathing. For obvious reasons, that really wasn't an option.

Thank Celestia I had those sunglasses in my inner jacket pocket. Usually I held onto these just to look cool in the eyes of my fans or to give my eyes some protection as a windscreen for fast flight just in case I had nothing else. But, on that day, they really came unexpectedly in hoofy for the very purpose they were originally designed for.

The thing was, I didn't know what was going on with my body anymore. Back at the gym, I didn't even consciously notice how much damage I did to that punching bag until I utterly demolished it and probably sent good old Thunder back into the hospital. This alone was very freaky to me, but the moment I rushed outside in a panic, I felt sick, dizzy, and weak. I recalled feeling that way somewhat along my way to the gym on that morning, too. But, at the time, the symptoms weren't nearly so bad so I mostly dismissed it earlier. Had I come down with something? Was it much more serious than I initially thought?

Memories of last night's “dream” returned to my mind as a possible explanation, but the rational side of my mind struggled hard to rebel against it because, according to those memories, I died. Just straight up died. No pony survived being impaled on a stalagmite through the abdomen for very long.

Thinking back, I recalled thinking that those mares, the ShadowBolts, acted very unusual. Ponies normally are highly individualistic anyway, but there was just something about them that felt off in a dangerous sort of way. Normally danger doesn't scare me. In fact, I usually found challenging danger quite thrilling, but in this case, something about them felt unnerving. Their attitude, their abilities, their language, their movements . . . almost everything about them cries out the words “dangerously abnormal” as if they weren't really ponies at all but rather something much more sinister.

Could they be changelings? I never met one that I'm aware of, but I suppose that's the point. If I ever did meet members of their species, how would I know when their most iconic ability was the ability to disguise themselves as anything and anyone? And, if they were changelings, how could they bring me back from the dead? If changelings were always powerful enough to bring back the dead, it seemed to me their earlier world conquest goals would've gained more momentum by now. Instead, hardly anypony was aware of their existence. Even after the newspapers spread the word about their society's so-called “reformed” state, hardly anypony I've ever known actually met one.

Still, this was the most rational conclusion my mind seemed to insist upon because, as apparent “ponies”, they felt just a little too off. Some of it was hard to explain even to myself, but my instincts insisted normal ponies don't act like they do.

Still feeling dizzy, I pressed my whole back against the wall and shook my head in an attempt to clear it. I then gazed across from me and noticed something that caught my eye in a bad way; a poster of the Wonderbolts. Moreover, this particular poster featured Rainbow Dash herself in the center of their flight formation. The Bolts, in this case, were apparently in the middle of swooping up from a low dive and this poster seemed to capture an image of them just at the upper cusp of the U shaped curve.

Upon sight of the poster, fury sank into the pit of my stomach and bile into my mouth. Without thinking things through, I cried in outrage as I raced to the other side of the alleyway at the speed of a snap and punched a hole through the image of Rainbow Dash's head. I held my hoof through the new hole as I glared harshly at the poster. During that time I was breathing heavily.

“Eep!” exclaimed a startled mare from somewhere nearby.

Feeling startled as well, which incidentally also snapped me out of my blind rage, I looked to my right and peered at a cream colored earth pony mare with wavy reddish-brown mane with a bunch of daisies woven into her mane. Real daisy flowers too, by the looks of them.

Then I looked back at the poster as it suddenly dawned on me that I just punched through a thick, solid wooden wall the poster was on as if it were made of thin, cheap, and wet cardboard. When that occurred to me, I suddenly realized why this other mare was so startled.

I looked back at her while withdrawing my hoof from the hole in the wall. I also casually tried to lean against the wall with one elbow behind me. Furthermore, I gave an overly innocent, casual sounding whistle as if to stubbornly declare, “Nothing to see here, folks.”

In return, the mare gave me a sheepish and slightly frightened smile which showed her teeth. The kind of smile that seemed to insist, “I didn't see anything” except I could totally tell that she had seen something startling. At the same time, she slowly trotted off backwards out of the alley until she rounded a corner before proceeding to gallop off in a panic.

My shoulders slumped as I sighed despondently. I thought that situation could become a serious problem soon. I really didn't know my own strength anymore. One minute it's super strong, and the next it's super weak. It didn't seem to make up its mind, and either way, there was very little warning involved. Normally I would be excited to explore brand new potential, but at that rate, I might end up in prison in Tartarus because of the sheer fear of the rest of the general public, or maybe I would end up banished and locked in a dungeon.

When I looked back at the poster behind me, it occurred to me that I was glad that wasn't the real Rainbow Dash. If it were, her head probably would have exploded just a moment ago. I may not like her, but downright killing her was going way, way too far.

And that was the other danger of not knowing my own strength anymore. If I didn't get this under control, eventually somepony might really get hurt.

Just then, another intense wave of dizziness assailed me. This time I couldn't resist it. I ended up sliding down the wall that I was leaning against. When I fully sat on the ground with the wall behind me as back support, I slid fully off to my right side and passed out.