Glorified

The day had arrived. The morning of May 15th, 2028 was bright and clear, and it looked like this was the beginning of summer because it was a cool 75 Fahrenheit up in the sky this morning. Mom, Dad and I had stayed overnight at Mom’s parent’s house, and the five of us went to Cloudsdale Stadium where all the new rookies would be awarded their uniforms. This was also the first time my sponsor deal would come into play because I had to wear my jacket for the event. Luckily, it was well ventilated, but it was warm, and as stated previously, not cold outside.

Once we were at the stadium, my grandparents went to grab seats with all the other families who’d come out to watch, and Mom and Dad walked me to the locker rooms. I might’ve gotten lost in this maze of a building, but they already knew where everything was. ‘Cloud Brick’ was about the most solid thing one could make from clouds as it was highly compressed thunderhead shaped in an ice mold and moved around with pegasus magic. The whole 500 was made out of the stuff, some of it being as old as Equestria itself.

There were about ten other ponies waiting nervously in the locker room when the three of us walked in. Naturally, there were a lot of shocked faces followed by, ‘Are you the Rainbow Dash?’ and Mom having her ego boosted for a good ten minutes. Once they were done with her, a few of them then asked Dad for autographs because he’s still got a few really impressive records with his 1200 at the track being the most famous of them. Untouchable Always Soarin and Sonic Rain-Boom Dash.

Once they’d had their fill, my parents departed to the stands and I was left alone with the wolves. A few of these faces were vaguely familiar. I’m sure I’d beaten most or even all of them at competitions. The vibe I got was not a very warm one, so I just said ‘hi’ and found a corner to hide in while I waited.

Conversation drifted from the two legendary Wonderbolts who were just here to the ones that would be out on the field giving us our uniforms. To avoid the glares, I didn’t really participate in much of it. A-team was the most televised of the Wonderbolts groups around the country, and if it wasn’t that or my own performances, I never really paid much attention to my peers.

After a while, about five minutes before 9AM, a stallion walked in wearing a jacket that looked just like mine, Spitfire patch and all. “Hey, good morning, rookies.”

He was a dark brown, almost black coated stallion with very strong looking, large, sharp feathered wings. He had narrow, a little sunken gold eyes, and a bright red mane and tail that were both cut very short. His Thunderaid jacket read “Raptor” and his number was 22. The biggest difference between his and mine was the big gold Captain’s wings pin affixed to his chest.

“Good morning, Captain.” We all stood and saluted.

He scanned over the group, lingering over one stallion and one mare with recognition in his eyes, then stopped dead on me. It was a long, uncomfortable lock, squirming against those almost predatory eyes. Breaking away, he addressed the group. “Today is going to be most of your debuts into the eyes of the media, and if you want to make it in this industry, you’ve got to look perfect when the cameras are on you. Consider your posture, respond quickly and accurately, and do not look straight into the camera. For those that don't have them, you’ll be given your uniforms, numbers, and the opportunity to sign this year’s rookie plaque. Stay in your box when you do that.” He pointed at me. “You follow behind me, the rest of you line up behind him.”

And so we did line up, and already, I was beginning to get a read on the vibe here. Not even remotely hidden special treatment from the get-go. In school, my parents were the coaches, so I was pretty much ignored in favor of helping the rest of my team. For that matter, I was a part-time instructor-assistant more often than not. They are gonna be laser focused on me and—oh, Goddess—what have I gotten myself into?

“Let’s go, rookies!” Raptor shouted.

In line and standing straight, we followed our captain out of the locker rooms and into the stadium proper. Today was a newbie event, but that didn’t mean the stadium was empty or anything. Families, friends of families, TV crews, instructors, support staff, investors: no Wonderbolt event goes unwatched.

The stage was a new cloud recently shaped and polished down to a mirror-like surface. They must’ve gone to some serious altitude to get a cloud this icy down here. We flew up to it one by one, standing where Raptor directed us to in front of all the cameras.

“Oh, hey, that’s him!” one of the newsponies said. They moved the camera so that it wasn’t pointed at all of us but focused solely on me. A stallion wearing a news badge waved at me. “Hey, Prism, give us a smile!”

Oh, he just… knows my name, I guess. But it’s fine. Just… smile and wave. I did my best to smile in a not creepy way, and the guy seemed to be really into it.

“Man, this kid is great. Keep the camera on him.”

Is it worse when you’re secretly being watched? This isn’t the first time I’ve been on TV, but it is the first time I haven’t been racing at the same time. These eyes and those eyes and all the eyes of the kids who were just like me a year ago, staring at me from all over.

Music blared from speakers all around the stadium. The Wonderbolt’s anthem played in bright brass tones, and a group of bolts performed a flyover with colored cloud generators on their backs. It was the most basic Wonderbolt maneuver and all you really had to do was keep pace with your team. It was doing sky drawings with those that made it complicated.

Speaking of, after draping the sky in Equestrian colors, they then crossed and crisscrossed each other, turning the flat lines into the words, ‘welcome new recruits,’ in big bold letters for everypony to see.

‘Coloring’ was one of my favorite tricks to see live since there was just so much planning that went into these performances. Flying close and tight, timing the cloud drop with the position, making sure things are aligned in 3D space, angled just right so the audience can see. Dad was really good at these.

The bolts performing the trick then cut their clouds and flew down one by one to the stage, landing in front of us and bowing for the audience. The relatively small crowd cheered, cameras flashed, and masks came off. Every single one of these ponies were A-team Bolts, most of them with their names in the records. Of course, to do what Mom and Dad did, you have to be more than just an A-team Bolt, and since I didn’t know the names of any of these ponies, they were either in the lower ranks or under 10th on any of the major records.

The active Bolts turned and moved to the end of the stage, and to my horror, another pony flew out from the tunnels under the stadium. She landed in front of me, waved to the crowd and the cameras, and was given a microphone by one of the general staff.

“Good afternoon, mares and gentlecolts,” the instructor said in a booming, raspy voice. “Today is the 383rd annual Wonderbolt Inauguration Ceremony! Thousands of fliers from everywhere in Equestria compete for the chance to stand on this ancient stage, and only these eleven ponies have made it! Give ‘em a hoof, everypony!”

Spitfire turned, smirked at me, then signaled for us to take a bow. Clapping and flashing sparked all over the stadium, filling the air with sound. She turned back to address the crowd, making sure to give the camera a smile in between movements. Everything she did had this practiced smoothness that could only come from an old hoof.

“These young stallions and mares have finally made it, but entrance is just the first hurdle!” She turned to face us, making eye contact with everypony one at a time. “From here on out, everyone will be watching your every move, cadets! Your performance will be evaluated by your superiors of course, but there’s also them to worry about!” She threw a wing out to the crowd, and the crowd responded with a cheer. “Will you steal their hearts, or will you fade into obscurity? Rise through our ranks and earn the world’s applause!”

Ponies dressed in their Wonderbolts uniform stepped up to the stage one by one to stand in front of each of us, save me. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but considering I already have an official jacket with a number on it, maybe I won’t get my uniform right now. At least, I hope it’s that simple.

Spitfire made her way down the row to the last pony in line, a blue mare with a dark green mane and violet eyes. “Second-time challenger, Monsoon! You’ve made it into the club! What can you tell the audience?”

She looked a little startled, not sure what to do once the mic was in her face. “I-I’m thrilled to be here! I hope to do my best with everyone on the team!”

Spitfire took the mic back. “Good answer! I look forward to seeing you on the track, Number 99.”

Another pony gave the new girl her uniform and Spitfire moved on. The next guy in line was a long, thin stallion with that wispy sort of refined face you see in rich guys. He was light gray with a white mane and eyes so pale blue that he almost looked blind. “Not our youngest candidate, but a first-time success, Aquilon! Why are you here?”

He flipped his mane like some kinda pretty boy. “As part of the Polaris family, it is my duty to be here. I was born to be a Wonderbolt, Ma’am.”

Is… is that a thing? What is a Polaris family? I don’t normally dislike people on sight, but this guy is already not my kinda guy.

“Hope you’ve got the wings to back up your words, Number 86.” Captain didn’t seem to like him much off the bat either. She moved on to the next pony in line, a very green stallion with green-blue eyes. “Finally made the cut, huh, three-timer? How do you feel, Mister Sirocco?”

“I’m pretty stoked, TBH. I worked a lot, and I always have a lot of fun doing this stuff, so it’s great to finally make it, ya know?”

He reminded me of Dad, but like, even more laid back. Too laid back. He had to pass a drug test to get in, but it only takes about 90 days for that stuff to get out of your system… Haze would throw a fit at him actually saying ‘TBH’ out loud like a real word.

“Good to know. It won’t all be fun and games though. You’re not here just to work with the team, you’re competitors too! Welcome aboard, Number 29.”

Next up was an angry gray mare with a dark blue-green mane and those scary sorta yellow eyes Raptor has. “Tropical Storm, you’re the second-youngest candidate of the new rookies! How did you beat out the competition?”

She stepped up to the mic, put a wing on it and looked out to the cameras. “Because I’m better than the competition. There is no competition. Especially not with the rest of these losers on the stage, Ma’am.”

I couldn’t tell if she meant the captain was also a loser, and if so, where she found the balls to say that to Spitfire’s face…

The captain took the mic back, harshly. “Well, well, well, a little fire brand, aren’t ya? You’ve got a lot to prove, second place. Hope you can back up that mouth, Number 42.”

The yellow eyes glared my way for a second, then right back at the captain before she moved on. I get the feeling that they’re talking about something I don’t remember. I’m not excited about our first team meeting after this is over.

“And next up is—”

“I’m Trade Wind, your new Number 77 Wonderbolt! Follow my socials @TWWB and be sure to subscribe to my channels before training kicks off to see the real behind the scenes as I rise through the ranks to be number 1!”

Before Spitfire could even introduce her, uh, Trade Wind stole the mic, darted to the front of the stage and stole the eye of every camera in the stadium. Between her pink coat, orange mane and bright green eyes, aside from me, she was the most brightly colored pony here. Her personality seemed to reflect that.

Spitfire angrily took the mic away and dragged her back to the line. “Anypony steals my mic again and you’re benched for a month!” Her feathers were certainly ruffled. “Better break records, 77!”

“Remember, Trade Wind @TWWB!” she managed to shout into the mic before Spitfire walked away. She acted almost like a mix of Mom and Pearl. She seemed like she really wanted to be the center of attention.

Spitfire moved onto the next pony who was a familiar looking stallion as far as I could tell. The short blond mane, the bright red coat, the true blue eyes. He smiled in a way like he was imitating the rest of us as best he could, like it wasn’t natural to him. I think he reminded me more of a character than a person I knew. “Welcome to the team Nightingale. Are your folks here today?”

He tilted his head to the side in what seemed to be him trying to be cool. “Well, not every former Wonderbolt is free all the time. My parents should be on an island in the south right about now. Hope you’re watching, Mom and Dad, because I’m going to be a star from today on!”

I frowned, and so did Spitfire. “They’re… you’re joining the Cloudsdale Wonderbolts and they’re… on vacation?”

He put on a smug face and looked away, trying to get his good side to the cameras. “Well, when you plan an anniversary trip, you can’t just cancel because something comes up.”

Oh. Oh, that’s… that’s kinda. Man, that feels bad.

Stunned herself, Spitfire sadly patted his shoulder. “Well, you keep up that positive attitude, Number 63.”

Generally, Wonderbolts are not super huge stallions. Big is not very conducive to being fast on a pony framework. Even with her extra magic and eternal youth, there’s a good chance that Princess Twilight wouldn't be able to outpace Mom or Dad in a race, and she’s not super huge like the other princesses are. Big pegasi usually have health problems too, so there’s a lot against them becoming Wonderbolts. The next guy, however, seemed to be an exception.

He was tall, square, fairly bulky, and had gigantic wings. His coat was a pure white, his mane was a stark black, and his eyes were a bright red. He wore his mane pulled tightly into a short ponytail, and his tail was just as straight and shiny. This guy reminded me of Malus from Sweet Apple Acres. Sorta scary in the face and big.

The Captain had to look up at him, she was almost a head shorter. “Most ponies would have dropped out after their third failure to join, but as our oldest and most attempted candidate, what made you keep on keeping on, Ryusei?”

He bowed to the captain. “It is a great honor to finally be recognized by the Wonderbolts. My family has always instilled in my siblings and me the value of effort. With diligence and patience, even a hoof can destroy a boulder. Now that the boulder of the ‘Wonderbolts Exam’ has been crushed, ‘to become the top flier in Cloudsdale’ is next.”

The Captain nodded back, not sure what to make of him. “Well, good work. Keep on keeping on, Number 34.” She moved on to the next guy, and this guy, I felt like I could get along with. “Mister Typhoon, you finally made the times to get in, how do you feel?”

He was a navy stallion with a two tone green and white mane with warm blue eyes. “Well, I just felt like I could do it this time, and here we are. I hope I can make a show to leave ponies happy. I’ll keep doing my best in the races and all that, but I’m really more of a showman, ya know? Happy to be working with you, Ma’am.”

His demeanor was just ‘relaxed,’ a stark contrast to the very intense stallion beside him. Spitfire nodded. “You’d better do more than perform, Number 64. Being good at one thing isn’t enough to be a Cloudsdale Wonderbolt for very long.”

Typhoon saluted, and the captain moved on. The next stallion in line had a purple-gray coat, a really shiny green-blue mane, and bright orange eyes. I kinda expected to find a beak at the end of his muzzle. He looked more like a bird than a pony, and some of his mane and feathers were out of place.

“Mister Pigeonhole, what brings you to the Wonderbolts?” She put the mic in his face and he stared at it like a foreign object.

He looked to her, then the crowd, then back at the mic. “Oh! Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“The money, mostly. I can fly pretty fast, but I’ve not been able to hold many jobs for very long. I’m getting paid for this right?”

It was as if he’d managed to push every single one of Spitfire’s buttons at once. She’d been overloaded and couldn’t figure out the appropriate level of anger to respond with. “How in the world did you end up here?” came out like she didn’t really mean it to.

Pigeonhole answered the question anyways. “Oh, I just happened to see a flyer for tryouts on the way home from the job center a while ago. I thought I’d just come for the free food, but I kept passing things and now I’m here I guess.”

Spitfire’s eye twitched. “We’ll talk later, Number 57.” Finally, she moved onto the mare standing next to me. Another Wonderbolt with a white coat and blue eyes and a blonde mane. Her palette could’ve been sampled from the rest of the newbies, not that I've got much room to talk, as yet another white Wonderbolt. You’d think, with the way things are advertised, there’d be more than one red Wonderbolt here. Guess that just doesn’t line up in reality.

“Now you, Miss Edelweiss, were one of our few first-try passers! How did you manage that?”

She flexed a wing to show the crowd. “While I don’t have the size to match up with some of the others here, I’m very flexible and learned how to use more of my body than just my wings to fly. Efficiency and planning have gotten me through life, and making it here was just another matter of scheduling and executing the plans I made. I look forward to working with you all!”

The captain chuckled. “Oh, you ought to have a good time here with a personality like that. Welcome to the team, Number 15.” Next, she stepped up to the front of the stage, cuing the cameras to herself. “Now that we have all the new members introduced, It’s time to take a look at our star candidate!”

Oh no.

“This kid has been at the top of his class for his entire life!”

Why would you do this to me?

“First place after first place, perfect score after perfect score, there was nothing we could throw at him that he didn’t just breeze through!”

My exam score would like a word.

“Mares and gentlecolts, please give it up for your new number 1, a five-time beginner flier champion, a three-time intermediate flier champion, a four-time advanced flier champion, the youngest Wonderbolt to ever grace Cloudsdale’s skies, Prism Dash!”

The cameras turned on me, Spitfire cued me to step forward, and I did my best to smile and wave. Mostly, I tried to keep my focus away from the other ponies on the stage. I could feel the stares burning holes in the back of my head, some a whole lot hotter than others. Spitfire couldn’t have glazed me harder without putting her hooves between my legs. Why in the world would anypony care about the elementary and middle school contests? Some of those kids don’t even fly anymore! Most of us didn’t even have cutiemarks back then…

She came over, threw a wing around me, and brought me to the center of the stage, and then had Raptor join us. “Prism here isn’t just joining the Cloudsdale Wonderbolts either! He’ll be joining my protégé Raptor and me on the Thunderaid team as our next rising star! Keep a lookout for what’s to come as our wonderful partner brings the cool, refreshing taste of lightning in your mouth to jumpstart these newbie’s careers!”

A staffer brought us each a bottle of blue Thunderaid, and following their lead, I cracked the bottle and took a sip. Blue isn't the worst flavor, but it was definitely not my favorite.

“How does it taste to be a Wonderbolt, Prism?” The captain asked.

I swallowed. This is an ad read, right? I’ve seen enough MeTube videos to know how to do this part. “Like glory in a bottle.”

Spitfire smiled wide. “Like glory in a bottle! Thank you to Thunderaid, our sponsors, and all you folks who tuned in this time! Be back here next month to find out of anypony can come close to the undefeated scion of rainbows, Number 1, Prism Dash!”

The crowd cheered, everypony on stage took a bow, and then the cameras went off.