It was to be the grandest aerial spectacle in all of Equestria. The Wonderbolts were supposed to mark a historic day with an historic display of grandeur and daring bravado. The princess herself requested that the Wonderbolts perform at the annual celebration of her coronation as ruler of Equestria. Instead, the day had ended in tradegy, sorrow and depression. A rash display of bravado. A moment of lapsed concentration, and a nation full of distraught ponies, with one taking the the hardest.
It was only meant to be a day full of fun festivities. Where did it go so wrong...?
Rainbow Dash had turned the TV off. She couldn't bare to look at the crumpled heap of pony any longer. She didn't say anything, she just walked over the the sofa, and sat down next to Fluttershy and said nothing, all the while gazing emptily at the TV. By the look on Fluttershy's face, she was in shock too. They just sat there for 15 minutes before Rainbow Dash said something; "Do you think Spitfire's okay?" She asked. "Huh?" Fluttershy repaid, as if she had been is sleep the whole time.
"I said do you think Spitfire is okay?"
"I don't know. Do you think we should turn the TV on?"
"No! I mean- maybe...I don't know. I think we should, but I don't want to see anything like that again in my life."
And with a heave, Rainbow Dash had ejaculated the former contents of her lunch from her bowels. Totally oblivious to the cesspool of wretchedness, she stepped over it and turned on the TV. This time, instead of the horrible mangled pony on the floor, a news reporter broke the foul silence; "...We have confirmed reports that the Thunderbolts leader Spitfire has been hospitalised in a local specialist unit in the quant town of Ponyville. Spitfire is said to be an an unstable critical state, and is currently on a life support machine of the highest calibre. What we know about the-"
Fluttershy was the first to break the silence; "let's get you and your floor cleaned up." With no resistance, she placed her fragile arms on a quivering Rainbow Dash and guided her towards the bathroom sink. As if on autopilot, Rainbow Dash walked over to the stainless steel sink, and gazed upon it. It was then she noticed what a wreck she was; her mane was ruffled, her eyes wide and emitting an thousand yard stare, and her mouth was coated in acidic stomach juices. With a lot of aid from Fluttershy, she managed to lean herself and the floor.
"There, all better." Fluttershy spoke softly, her small voice so soft yet commanding "You look upset. I think you should have a lie down upstairs. Do you want me to look after your house?" Rainbow Dash only managed to nod her head once before being herded upstairs in her bedroom by Fluttershy.
For the first time unaided, Rainbow Dash strutted to her bed and crashed down on it. Gazing up at the ceiling, she saw Spitfire. She didn't like the thought of the horrific and sickening impact, so she looked left. Then right. Then down. She saw the smiling and bold face of Spitfire staring back up at her from her duevet. She couldn't bare it any longer; she let out a cry of fear and anguish, and buried her head in her pillow, crying herself to sleep. All the while, Fluttershy watched over Rainbow dash until she rose from her sleep.
The Wonderbolts stepped out from underneath the shade of the royal palace and onto the temporary runway secured to the pure marble steps preceding the palace. It was the biggest day of the year for the Wonderbolts. They had to perform a spectacle to please the sophisticated crowds of Canterlot, most notably Princess Celstia. But this time was different; by royal decree, and for the first time ever, the Wonderbolts were performing to a televised audience as well. For this reason alone, Princess Celstia demanded that the Wolderbolts invent a new signature move, for all the nation to see and remember forever. And the team captain, Spitfire, along her trusted co-captain, Soarin', had been drilling the new signature move into the team. They had taken to it better than Spitfire had expected, and they had plenty of time prior to this day to perfect their new move; a high bomb burst and a long, fast, adrenaline-fuelled nosedive to the ground, pulling up at approximately 2000ft. If they timed it right, the smoke trails would emit right above the crowd's heads. With a nervous confidence, Spitfire gave the order, and the team gathered speed down the runway, and took off in a flawless delta formation.
They had prepared for this. The moment the Wonderbolt's feet left the ground, they were in a cool control. Spitfire decided to start the crowd off with something light; all members of the team did a simultaneous triple aleiron roll, then broke into a double barrel roll. Now, the crowd winner was coming up. This had to be executed flawlessly, otherwise it could end in e,harassment, catastrophe or both. Once Spitfire was satisfied that all of her crew had formed on her wingtips, she gave the nod, and the all split into five different directions.
From here on out, Spitfire was on her own. If she messed up, her and her alone would have to pay the price. After 500ft of horizontal travel, she dived down in a 90 degrees angle, perpendicular to the earth. She had to time her pull out just right. Too soon, and it would look bland. Too late, and well...she didn't want to think about that.
With the ground fast approaching, she positioned her wings, ready to lift at 2000ft. At exactly 2000ft, she motioned her wings to pull up, but nothing happened. With a dreaded look of horror, she had come to terms with one fatal fact; she had exerted too many G's whilst in a dive. She barely had time to register the fact that she was going to smash into the ground had full speed. With the remaining time and strength left in her, she raised her hands in front of her face, blocking her view of the oncoming pain.
And then she saw black.
