Flying a Kite

“I appreciate the enthusiasm, few are so quick to get to business. But, I would first like to know something: how you are finding the new workplace?”

The question came as a surprise and, considering what he had learned so recently, served only to put him further on guard.

“It’s, uh, more than satisfactory.”

“And you are coping well with the transition, I take it?”

“I— um, I did have some concerns about that. The, uh, program, I mean.”

“Yes?”

“Well, the, um... methods, I was reading about... they’re barbaric to say the least.”

“And you are wondering what purpose these methods could serve?”

“Yes.”

“Rest assured that everything they do is done for a reason. They do not simply hurt ponies because they enjoy it; sometimes I wonder about that. Let me guarantee you this: if not for their efforts, Equestria would be a very unpleasant place to live.”

“From what I’ve read, it seems that way already... if you don’t mind me saying.”

“There is only so much happiness in the world. Some must sacrifice theirs for the greater good.”

He shifted on his hooves a bit. These types of conversations never went well.

“If you do not believe me, watch the development of one of our subjects. Pegasus 726 is our latest acquisition. Soon he will be molded into a willing guardian of Equestria.”

“I think I’d rather keep my distance.”

“I was not giving you an option.”

===

Kite’s eyes slid open a fraction and were immediately met by a harsh glare, blotted with shadows. His mind felt all fuzzy. Something about his bedroom seemed... different.

“What mark did they say to give him?” came an unfamiliar voice.

“The decision was left to me.” The second speaker’s words were split by a metallic shriek that rose and fell in quick bursts. After a few more whirs, the noise was met by a grinding sound. “Besides, it depends on who the donors are. What do we have on today’s menu?”

Kite struggled, failed, to force his eyes further open. There was a blob of shadow next to him.

“Well, uh, not a lot for a pegasus.” A squelching noise came from somewhere in the room. “Here’s something, looks like a pair of wings.”

“His are a bit underdeveloped.”

“Okay then, this one’s got some rain clouds, I think. Hard to tell. Does it really matter what talent we give him?”

“The talent goes unchanged. That is a lie we tell the parents. Killing will still come naturally to him.” The grinding whir screamed into action again then fell away. Rose and fell, rose and fell. “Rain clouds, hmm? Yes, I think we can— his eyes are opening.”

“Oops, lemme just...” Kite heard a tinkling sound before the world sank into darkness.

===

His first thought, as consciousness floated to the surface, was that his bed wasn’t as soft as normal. Eyelids still too heavy to open, he pressed against the mattress with his legs. They didn’t sink in like they usually did. He pulled back the covers; the blankets weren’t there. Kite’s stomach started to twist itself into a knot. This wasn’t his bed at all. This was—

Wait... no.

Of course, he’d gone to sleep in his mother’s bed. That’s why it felt strange. Stomach settling, Kite rolled onto his side as was greeted by a searing pain in his flank. His eyes shot open and were greeted by stone roof, floor and walls. Kite bounced to his hooves, head reeling as blood and adrenaline coursed through his body. Fatigue was banished in an instant. His head, eyes, darted around the room. Dull, brown rock, carved and flawed in places. A big metal door in one wall. A small alcove with a pile of blankets in the one opposite. Near his hooves lay a glassy, orange ball. Panicked breaths filled the air.

No, no. This isn’t real, just a nightmare. Just a—

Movement from the alcove. A ruffling noise followed by a head surfacing from the mass of fabric. Kite shuffled back as far as he could, the orange mare staring him away. After a few moments, she lowered her head out of sight again. Kite watched, but the mare did nothing else.

The door, try the door.

He scampered over to it; there was no handle, only a slit near the top and one at the floor. Kite tapped the metal surface and was greeted by a thunk. The door sounded very thick.

A grating sound heralded the bottom slit opening. Kite jumped back and a tray slid through followed by another. Each held two bowls: one of water and one of... something. It was green.

The ruffling again. Kite whipped around and flung himself against the wall. The orange mare was climbing out of her alcove and across the room, indifferent to Kite’s presence. Her fur was riddled with cuts, scars and bruises, some fresh. She walked, head hung halfway, with a slight limp. The mare pulled a tray towards her and started eating, alternating between the bowls. A mouthful of green stuff, then some water. Eventually she glanced over at Kite. They stared at one another for a few moments before she slid a tray towards him. He shuffled away from the object as it came to rest where he had been, half the water spilling in the process.

“Eat up,” she said, following her own instruction.

Kite looked at the green stuff. It had a consistency that resembled bad custard or the paste they use in arts and crafts. He sniffed at it; there was no smell to find.

“What—” he stopped himself. Don’t say anything. This is just a bad dream.

“Pretend it’s food.” She went back to eating. The slime made a sickening squelching noise as she lapped at it.

Kite closed his eyes and clenched his muscles. He drew in a deep breath and blew it out again. Time to wake up. Another deep breath. Wake up. He cuffed himself on the chin.

“That’s not gonna work, you’re already awake.” She was watching him, traces of green paste clinging to her lips.

“What’s going on? Where’s my mom?”

“They said I’m your mom now.”

Kite gritted his teeth. “No! Where’s my real mom!?”

“I don’t know. Where’s she normally?”

“She’s... at home.”

The mare glanced around the room, licking the slime from her lips. “This is my home, eat—”

“No! No, no, no! I wanna go home! My home! My home! My...” Tears started flowing, breaths came staggered. Kite’s face twisted up. Through blurry eyes he could see the mare approaching. He rolled over and pressed into the wall.

She’s not there. It’s a bad dream.

A hoof nudged his shoulder. “Please don’t cry. Here...” She sounded different, caring. The voice Citrus would use sometimes. Hoofsteps moved away and returned a few moments later. A blanket floated down to embrace him. It itched his skin and smelled of stale filth. “You’ll feel better soon.”

===

Hours stretched by as Kite stared at the dull, brown wall. It was covered in a thin layer of dirt. The tiny grains rubbed away at his touch, coating his fur. His face grew coarse with dried tears, body aching from the ordeal. Eventually, he managed the courage to stir. The mare was back in her hole, covered as before. Across the room he spied the orange ball from earlier. Hauling himself from under the blanket, he trotted over and peered into the glassy surface. Looking back at him was a skull, just like his—

No, his heart fluttered, gears clicking into place. Kite twisted around to his flank. There, surrounded by stitches and a few trickles of blood, were some rain clouds. He turned back to the ball and sank into the orange sea.

“I wanna go home,” he whispered.

“You can’t.” The mare was rising from her resting place.

“No! Where am I? Let me go home!”

“They won’t let you.”

“I don’t care.”

“If they won’t let you, you can’t go home.”

“I don’t care!”

“They’ll make you care.” She was right in front of him now. This time he didn’t back away.

Kite narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

She sighed, hung her head and lay down at his hooves. “I’m Sunset, one of the fake moms. They’re going to make me look after you but you’re not gonna like it.”

“What happened to my real mom!? Where is she!?”

“I don’t know, she’s probably at your old home.” Sunset reached out with a hoof towards Kite’s cheek.

“No! Leave me alone.” He slapped the hoof away. Sunset flinched and gave a little whimper. She made her way back to the hole and twisted out of sight.

Kite’s attention returned to the orange ball. He stared through to his old cutie mark, breath fogging up the glass. This was all the mark’s fault. He shoved it across the floor where it bounced off a wall and came to rest. Kite shifted to look at his flank and the new, blood-bordered rain clouds. They were as ugly as the skull. He hoofed at them and was greeted by a searing pain.

I’d rather be a blank flank.

===

The slit at the bottom of the door screeched open and another set of trays slid through. The sound ripped Kite out of his daydreaming, maybe regular dreaming. There was no way to tell what time it was. The contents of the trays were different: an apple, hay and water on each. His stomach growled at the sight. Sunset stirred from her resting place.

“Lunchtime,” she said as she passed by. Kite got to his hooves and followed. The foal was hesitant at first but one, quick sniff revealed that this food was a step up from the goo they’d been given earlier.

“I’m sorry if I upset you before,” said Sunset between mouthfuls. Kite only stared back, an opportunity to examine her more closely. Her mane was tangled and ragged, portions of it looked as though they’d been pulled out. Kite could see a few bite marks in places. Bruises that ran in the shape of a jaw line, they were pony made.

“Why are you so hurt?” he asked.

Sunset followed his gaze around her body and gave a smile. “That’s not something for a foal to worry about.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means... nothing, nevermind. C’mon, eat up. When you’re done with that you should eat your breakfast too.” She nodded to the tray of green stuff sitting by the wall.

“I don’t want it.”

“Just pretend it’s custard.”

“What’s custard?”

“I don’t know. The other foals usually try it when I say that.”

“What other—”

A sharp, grating noise emanated from the door. Sunset gave a whimper and stood up.

“Oh dear, break time is over.” With that, she was moving back to the hole. Kite started to follow her. “No, you stay there.”

“But—”

“Stay.” She crawled under the blankets as the door flung open.

“Good morning everypony! Rise and shine!” Kite whirled around to the booming voice. Standing in the door was Thunder. Behind him stood a unicorn that Kite didn’t recognise.

“You!” Kite screamed, breaking into a gallop towards the pegasus. His body froze and floated into the air before he could make it halfway across the room.

“Oh look, Venture. I told you he’d be happy to see us.”

No! I— Kite tried to open his mouth but it was clamped shut. Thunder floated up to the foal and pulled him into a minutes-long embrace. Kite struggled with all his might to push the pegasus away; he managed nothing.

“So, how’re you finding the new cutie mark? Wait, don’t tell me: you love it.” Thunder rotated the foal foal around so that his flank was at eye level. “Hmm, the dressings’ve come off. There’s gonna be a nasty bunch of scars too.” He looked to the entrance. “We may need to do some more cuts if they come in too evenly. Can’t have them looking surgical. Bit early to tell now, though, just make a note of it.”

There was a scratching noise of quill on parchment. “Anyway kid, sorry about the little mess I made. It’s only the second time I’ve— wait, second or third?” He looked up at the roof for a few moments, eyes squinting. “No, the third. Yeah, he didn’t make it though.” Thunder pulled Kite down to the floor. His legs were shifted around so that he could stand.

“Alright, now lets— ooo.” Thunder clicked his tongue a few times and walked over to Kite’s untouched food. “Somepony didn’t finish their breakfast. Sunset?”

“I told him to eat it,” She said while crawling out of the alcove.

“Did you? Well then, little Kite didn’t listen. Does he need to be told what happens to ponies who don’t listen?” Thunder loomed over the foal, brow furrowed in anger. He looked down at Kite for a few moments before relaxing. “Huh, I wish Guise was still around, he knows all about that sort of thing. Oh well, we have Venture now and Venture is going to listen, isn’t he? He’s going to do as he’s told.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kite could see Venture frantically nodding his head. Thunder gave Kite a gentle slap on the cheek.

“You could learn a lot from him, kid. But enough getting to know each other. Lots to do today. Venture, you take Kite to seven-sixteen and get started. Sunset and I have some grown-up things to discuss.”

Immediately, Sunset started trembling. “But it’s only—”

“C’mon, get him out of here.”

Kite hovered into the air again and floated towards the entrance. Venture, horn aglow, led him into the hallway beyond and slammed the door shut. Voices continued from within but they quickly faded into obscurity as Kite was carried towards the unknown.

===

The hallway wasn’t much different to the room in terms of design. Stone walls, floor and roof, occasionally broken by a metal support or door. Each door had a number painted in yellow at the top. Numbers like 08-12 and 08-11. Counting backwards, Kite guessed that he had come out of 08-18. Along the roof ran a thick, black cable, meeting with a light every few yards. Eventually, the pair reached a flight of stairs where they climbed up a floor and proceeded down another, almost identical, hallway. The rooms along here were all 07’s. Venture opened 07-16 and levitated Kite through. The foal couldn’t have prepared himself for the change of scenery. Rather than the usual stone decor, this room was entirely metal. An electronics-filled control room with a big, glass viewing screen. On the other side was a tunnel with two enormous fans at either end. Both fans were covered by a thick grate. The pair passed through an opening and into the tunnel where a leather strap hung from the roof. There, Kite was lowered to the floor.

“Thunder thinks you can’t fly yet. Is that true?”

Kite could feel his jaws unclamping; only his jaws. “What are you doing!? I wanna go ho—” His mouth was forced shut again.

“A simple yes, or no, will suffice.” The glow surrounding Venture’s horn faded slightly.

“Let me go! Let me go! Let me—”

Venture sighed and leaned in on Kite. “Look, Thunder is expecting to walk in and find you in that harness. If he finds anything else, he’s gonna get mad. I know this is scary but it’s best if you cooperate.” The glow faded again.

“No! Let me—”

Venture walked back into the control room. Frozen in place, Kite could see him fiddling with something on the panel. A menacing, buzzing noise picked up from the fans but they didn’t move. Then, Venture was at Kite’s side again.

“Okay, seeing how you don’t want to cooperate, I’m just going to assume he’s right about your ability to fly.” Kite floated into the air and the leather strap wrapped around his body above the wings.

“Here’s how this goes: I’m gonna turn on the fans. It’ll get really windy in here. You need to try and fly into the wind so that you don’t get blown back into the fan behind you. Now, you may get it in your head to just sit against this grate but...” Venture reached out, took a deep breath and touched the grate. A sharp, crackling sounded through the tunnel and the unicorn stomped his hoof against the floor with a hiss. “Damnit, that stings! Don’t touch the grate.”

Venture went back into the control room, the door to the wind tunnel slid shut and the fans started powering up. Soon after, Venture’s voice sounded from a speaker.

“All you gotta do is flap as hard as you can. Thunder says you’ll figure out the technique soon enough.”

The magic surrounding Kite’s body finally faded. His limbs immediately started aching as he struggled against the harness, wings flapping, legs flailing.

“Let me go!”

“Can’t hear you.” Venture tapped the glass with his hoof. It produced a barely-audible thud over the fans. They were picking up speed, now. “Okay, it’s sitting at two wing-power... not blowing you back very far, though.”

The roar of the fans built up and the wind grew stronger. Kite could feel himself drawing closer to the fan. His hind legs brushed something solid and were greeted by a painful shock. The foal’s wings flew into motion as he leapt off the grate and away from the sensation. Over the howling wind, he could hear his wings buzzing. From the back of his mind came Mr. Prince’s voice.

Buzzing’s for bugs. Less muscle, more technique.

What’s the technique? Kite scrunched his face and searched through his mind. His efforts were met by another shock.

“Turn it off!” he screamed, wings filling with acid. His hooves fell back against the grate. The shock encouraged another surge of effort; it soon became too much. Electricity jumped through his body again and again. At last, the merciful waning of the fan’s hum came across the wind. He stopped bouncing against the grate, instead hanging limply in the harness, gasping for air.

“Take a few minutes to catch your breath, then I gotta turn it on again.”

Sweat dripped off Kite’s nose, his hind legs tingled, wings hung limply at his sides. The door to the tunnel grated open and Venture stepped through. Kite tried to say something but was overwhelmed by huffing.

“Sorry about this, but you heard what Thunder said.”

“Puh...lease... no... more.” Kite managed.

Venture frowned and, horn glowing, lifted Kite’s wings. He shifted the foal around in his harness and examined his hind legs.

“I’ll see what Thunder thinks.” Venture left the foal alone to dangle as he exited the room.

Kite stared at the floor, forelegs hanging out in front of him. An itch developed on his nose; he lifted a hoof to scratch it and paused.

He didn’t freeze me. Kite twisted around in the harness, searching for a way to release it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a knot, right behind his neck. The foal strained to rotate himself towards it, wings flapping with all the speed they could manage. A grating came from beyond the control room. Kite relaxed and lay still.

“Don’t worry about it. The current isn’t strong enough to cause lasting damage. They don’t want broken ponies.”

“He was bouncing against it a lot though.”

“As long as he doesn’t crack his skull open it—” Kite could see Thunder staring at him. “You tied the harness a bit funny.”

“That’s not how I left him.”

“Ah, then little Kite was trying to escape.” The pegasus hovered in front of the foal. “Hey kid, hanging in there?” Thunder paused for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh boy, I didn’t even mean to—”

“Shut up! Let me go home!” Kite shouted.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take you back there soon enough.”

Kite narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

“Of course. Sunset is—”

“No I—”

“Venture, shut him up.”

Kite’s jaws clamped together.

“I think he’s rested long enough.” The two grown-ups vacated the wind tunnel and the fans started humming into action. Venture’s magic was released from Kite’s mouth. The foal flexed his wings and drew in a deep breath.

“Okay,” came Thunder’s voice over the speakers. “Venture wants me to go easier on you so we’ll keep the fans at four wing power.”

“I actually had it at three point five.”

“Three point five? No that’s much too easy. Four it is.”

Kite could feel the difference as the fans reached full speed. The wind bore through him, his face rippling with its strength. Once again, fatigue burned through his wings. The shock of electricity beckoned to him. Soon enough, it arrived. They kept him in the harness for hours. Short bursts of exercise, riddled with pain and protest. Lengthening periods of rest. By the end, he couldn’t feel anything past his waist.

===

Venture had to carry him back to the room. There, he was flung, unceremoniously, to the floor. The pain of landing went unnoticed against his screaming wings and legs. Kite lay still, breath still lost to wherever it is breaths go. He closed his eyes, content to drift away to the land of sleep. Then, a whimpering caught his ear. Across the floor, near the alcove, lay Sunset, body trembling. Kite rose and walked over. Her breathing came in flutters; there were some new wounds on the side he could see. He rested a hoof on her shoulder and she let out a squeak. Sunset’s trembling grew more severe for the few moments it took her to twist around and see Kite. The foal’s heart stammered as she wrapped her hooves around him and drew him into an embrace. She cradled him between her legs, tears running into his mane.

“Nickel,” she whispered.