You know, the Wonderbolts are not something you can just get into on your first try. Doesn’t matter how good you are, how fast you fly, or how tight you can turn. It just doesn’t happen. That’s the final test. Can you humble yourself enough to admit that you might not be the best? Can you show enough motivation and determination to come back for another try? Judging by the fact that you are now standing in front of me wearing the uniform of my team, the answer to that is ‘yes’.

-Spitfire; excerpt from a private acceptance speech

Second only to winning a race, the ‘bolts loved their water breaks more than anything else in the world. When that whistle blew, nothing else mattered until water had been imbibed. ‘Nothing’ included their coach taking off into the blue.

Spitfire saw him go, and nodded to Dash as she went to follow him. Good luck with that kid…but you aint gonna find anything. Even after they had flown out of sight, she looked on until she felt somepony tugging at the sleeve of her uniform.

“Spitfire! Hey Spits!”

Turning to face the source of her annoyance, Spitfire found herself uncomfortably close to Twitch’s face, her pouty magenta eyes puppy-dog begging for something. Such was the norm for Twitch. Ready to take her goggles off the second training wasn’t in session. It didn’t stop there either. She kept her lime-green mane and tail shorter than any other mare on the team. Her wings were pure white, which also showed around her eyes. If the constant kleptomania hadn’t earned her the nickname ‘Twitch’, the random bounciness would have done the job just fine.

“What?! What is so darn important Twitch?”

Twitch pointed impatiently at her laptop sitting by the pile of bags, then somehow made her face even more like a little filly begging for a cookie.

“Oh no no no Twitch, we’ve been over this before. I don’t care if you’ve found a good copper-bit stock, a kinky article from Cosmomare, or even one of those stupid lol-cat things, no means no. You’re going to put that away, and we’ll see whatever it is after practice is over.”

“Even if it’s about somepony important to you…?” parried Twitch.

Spitfire gave her a deadpan glare.

“Oh come on, it’s not as if the entire team hasn’t noticed your stupid-to-the-point-of-unhealthy-infatuation with the coach we’ve got. How you manage to puff up a little more when he calls you ‘Miss’? And I’d be lying if I said we weren’t all curious as to where you managed to find this athletic trainer, though I suspect it was Tartarus.” Seeing that Spitfire was looking a lot less angry and a little more interested, Twitch continued to push her case. “Perhaps he might make a very good special sompo-OW!”

Twitch stopped her mocking as Spitfire hoofed her hard in the side.

“Cut the crap Twitch, you know that isn’t the case. I’ll be nice and play along just this once. What have you got?”

Spitfire was serious. For as much as the team thought that their captain and coach might be an item, Spitfire was living the dream and as such had no time for a stallion in her life. Even if she did, he would need to be somepony who was capable of showing more emotion than a rock.

“Well, as crazy as it may sound, I found that he has to be keeping some really fancy electronics in his saddlebags. I was proven right when I saw that sky phone, but I don’t think that’s all he’s got. Protocol codes show that there is something else really weird that is emitting a signature from his bag.”

Now I remember why I hate letting Twitch get out her computer-that awful techno-babble.

“I’ve been trying to tap into it for months and only just today got in…” continued Twitch. She led Spitfire over to her computer, seemingly oblivious to the irritated face her captain was making.

“Wait, so all those times you’ve had your computer out you’ve been…hacking? I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yep. That’s what all the lol-colt stuff was for. To make everypony think I was up to nothing productive. And did it ever work. Now, take a look at this.”

They sat down in front of the computer, which was displaying a long list of addresses, along with power signatures and descriptions. It looked vaguely similar to the list Spitfire found when trying to hook up her office computer to the magicnet. Twitch highlighted two lines in particular:

Beacon 100.0.176.134.1.2 50000 +/- 500 1411K
Crest 100.0.176.134.1.3 8000k +/- 20k 20M

“See! Look! Tell me that isn’t suspicious!”

“You know I don’t understand all this stuff. Care to explain what it all means?” asked Spitfire, still testy despite her gnawing curiosity.

“Ok. The first column on the left is the name. Normally you’d name your device something like…’Spitfire’s Computer’, that is, something relevant to what it’s function is. That way you know what it is when you start messing around looking for it on the magicnet. Judging by the power levels, the first line is his sky phone. He didn’t name it ‘Shadow’s Phone’, but I think it’s safe to assume that ‘Beacon’ is a nickname or code word. I think it’s equally safe to assume that ‘Crest’ is also a pseudonym, and that he doesn’t actually have an old nobility family crest generating a wireless signature in his saddlebags.” Twitch took a deep breath before continuing.

“Ok, column two is the address. Nothing unusual as far as I can tell, and from the last several digits it would seem that they both would seem to belong to him. But the last two lines are…interesting. Column three is power rating. The first one is large. Fifty thousand rays? That’s a lot of power. But the next line? Eight million. That’s more like the power rating for a medium industrial motor.”

“Well…? What does that mean?”

“I’m getting to that. Last column is data-rate. Fourteen-eleven kilocubes per second is the standard cube-rate for a sky phone, that’s why I’m pretty convinced as to what ‘Beacon’ is. The next line however…that data-rate is high enough to send a video. Good video. And with those power levels, it could broadcast at hundreds of miles, for anypony to see. Assuming you have the keys.”

“I didn’t know technology like that even existed,” muttered Spitfire with a frown.

“It doesn’t!” giggled Twitch. “So, wanna see what it’s broadcasting?”

“Will anypony know if we’re watching?”

“No, not as far as I am aware. The program I’m using to capture the broadcast and display it does have two-way communication, and the device he’s using may very well be able to receive a signal, but I’ve shut off all the output modes from my computer. Nopony will know unless those are enabled, and there is enough noise on this side to be audible.” Twitch was holding her hoof expectantly over the key as she waited for Spitfire’s go-ahead.

Spitfire was torn. She had wanted to know what Shadow was hiding for well over a year now, and her own attempts to find out had been frustrated. It would be so easy to find out right now. On the other hoof, it would be by hacking into his stuff, which at the very best was incredibly rude and a violation of Shadow’s privacy. Before she could make up her mind, Rainbow Dash streaked back onto the field and nearly knocked the lot of them over. Dash was very much out of breath, and when she recovered enough to talk she started talking as fast as she could between gasps for air.

“Shadow…in his bag…weird stuff...a suit…some sort of helmet with a radio...and guard’s shoes! You gotta believe me!”

That sudden declaration tipped Spitfires mental scales firmly in favor of curiosity. While holding up a hoof to silence Dash, she nodded to Twitch. With a gleeful grin Twitch put her hoof down on a key, and on-screen a program opened to display a video feed. She chuckled in exuberance.

“Well, I was right! What do we have here?”

Spitfire found herself wondering exactly the same thing, as Twitch full-sized the video. On the screen was a clear view of the sky, the morning sun bright on the right side, and the horizon at the very bottom. The few clouds in view were moving uncharacteristically fast, and the speakers were blasting the noise of rushing wind. Looking at the screen, Spitfire saw almost exactly what she would see if she were looking through her own eyes when flying. Except that she never flew fast enough to pass clouds like that, and there were lines of text and other display items on the screen.

In the bottom right-hoof corner was a compass with many sub-division, giving a heading slightly west of north. Above that, Spitfire recognized an altimeter and airspeed indicator in digital form. It had the same layout as the goggles she wore for extreme stunt flying. What didn’t make sense though were the readings:

Altitude: 90,323
Airspeed: Boom x 1.97

Ninety thousand hooves. Nopony ever flew that high. Well, some had, but not for very long. Those were all attempts at records, which ended with said pony coming back down very shortly after. The air was too thin to breathe, and it was too cold to fly in unless the flier wore heavy gear, which would make it too hard to gain altitude.

The airspeed indicator was an even stranger matter. Normally such a display was in ‘hooves per second’. She’d never seen units like this. Boom x 1.97…boom cross…boom by…wait, as in sonic boom? That can’t be right…

“No way…” mumbled Twitch, echoing Spitfire’s thoughts. “That can’t be twice the speed of sound, can it? This…looks like an advanced goggle display, but there is no way he’s flying that high or fast. And where are his forelegs? They should be in view if this is what I think it is.”

“There” said Rainbow Dash, moving a forehoof up to the screen. She traced along a slight disturbance of pixels. “The suit I watched him put on makes him really hard to see. But if you look close, you can spot him. And he didn’t put on any goggles, but he did put on a helmet. Maybe this is the view from that?”

Spitfire blinked, and suddenly could see some definition to the shimmer that Dash was pointing at. It was the shape of how Shadow held his forelegs in flight. Before any of them could say anything further, Shadow’s voice emanated from the speakers.

“Alright, I’ve reached cruising altitude and speed, and should be there in about fifteen moons. Crash, gimme a sitrep.”

On the lower left part of the screen, a line of text appeared, reading: ‘SSgt Storm Crasher’. A new voice spoke, every bit as calm as Shadow, and slightly deeper.

“Alright, we’ve got another pony-napping by Rex Auguilares.”

Around Spitfire, everypony gasped. Pony-napping happened now and again, it certainly wasn’t unheard of, but being pony-napped by Rex Auguilares was practically a death-sentence. That organization was an extremist group of griffons that had been trying to overthrow the Gryphemi monarchy for a number of decades now. Their stated goal was an end to the peace treaty between Equestria and Gryphemi, because they believed they were inherently better than ponies. It was a ploy they used every few months, taking a griffon or a pony hostage, and threatening execution unless Equestria or Gryphemi met their demands.

“The hostage is being held thirty miles north of the border, at the coordinates I sent you,” continued Crash. “Should be a simple snatch and grab rescue, but we have two issues that are going to make it a bit more interesting.”

“And those are?” asked Shadow.

“Well first of all, you’re in charge of this operation LT.”

“What?!” demanded Shadow. “Where is Captain Skyward?”

“He is still recovering from the hit he took last time. Don’t worry too much though, we’re on-site and I’ve got a good idea of how to commence the rescue.”

“Alright, that’s good to hear. What’s the other bad news?”

“The hostage…she’s the newly crowned princess.”

“Not Twilight!” yelped Dash. Spitfire shared her sentiment, but perhaps not as closely. While she wasn’t a personal friend of the princess, the thought of Rex Auguilares holding one of her rulers hostage made her blood boil.

“Well then, we sure as Tartarus had better get this one done right. You said you were at the target location?” asked Shadow.

“Yes sir.”

“I want estimated enemy force size, armament, terrain, and your best option on mission accomplishment.”

“Terrain is coniferous forest; objective is in a log cabin on the edge of a large clearing. Estimate five hostiles in the cabin, and we’ve found two on patrol in the woods. They have standard armament, recommend that we clear the forest quietly, and then breach the cabin.”

“Alright, unless I see otherwise when I get there, we’ll go with that. I want all of you to stay low until I get there and am set up to cover you. Anything else I need to know?”

“Nope, I think that just about covers it until you arrive.”

On the screen, the text ‘Sgt. Wild Wind’ materialized in the corner where Crash’s name came up. The next voice out of the speakers was eager and slightly mocking.

“Well, that means the comm channel is open for anypony to use! So LT? Why are you taking so long to get here?! I wanna shoot some stuff.”

“Because,” replied Shadow, an undertone of annoyance seeping into his voice, “I had to leave my cover job on zero notice, and it’s all the way in Cloudsdale. Why are you in such a hurry anyways?” Shadow dropped his voice to imitate himself, “we both know what’s going to happen when I get there. I’ll go ‘Alright Chaff, it’s time to go take out the bad guys.’” He raised his voice to a squeak as he imitated the newcomer. “…and you’ll say ‘Oh no LT! I’m not brave enough! Please save my rump with a shock-boom!”

If Chaff was phased by Shadow’s remarks he gave no indication of it as he returned fire.

“All the way from Cloudsdale…oh right…you’re working with some seriously hot tail there. You can’t be there just to be an athletic trainer.”

“What do you want Chaff?”

“What I want is for you to come out and admit that you have something going on with that pretty little captain of theirs. Well…not as short as you, but still small and adorable.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh, don’t try to lie to me Hunter. I thought Dad taught you to tell the truth.”

Shadow had gone from annoyed to clearly angry.

“First of all, don’t call me Hunter. Second, his name is Captain Dive Skyward, though you may call him ‘Sir’ if you wish. Dad would imply he’s my father, or yours, or anypony’s, when in fact he is not. Such a name is also disrespectful to our commander, call sign or not. And if that wasn’t enough wrong with your statement, there is nothing going on between the two of us! Unless you count the fact that she is my employer, and any semblance of a life I have in the normal world comes from the money I make working for her!”

“Whoa there Hunter, you need to calm down…sir. I know you like your call sign. No need to hide it. I also know Dad likes his too. As for your ‘work’, if you were there for the bits, you’d work a few more shifts. You know, I can see it in your eyes every time somepony mentions her.”

“So?”

“So it’s not like she’s too good for you. I’ll bet she’s interested. Did she ask you what your cutie mark means yet?”

“Yes…?”

“See? That means she’s interested. And it also means she’s been looking at your flank. And what did you tell her?”

“What I tell everypony.”

Chaff laughed.

“And she believed you? How are you going to pick up mares when you’re always telling them ‘hey there lady I’m an especially good sound engineer’. That’s not hot. At all. We dubbed you ‘Hunter’ for a reason!”

“You know I can’t tell her that.”

“Well, if that really is the case, then let’s look at what else you’ve got going for you. You’re downright hunky. Mares like that. Put some moves on her. Maybe take her to dinner and…I dunno, talk about something other than work? Or better yet…why not offer to help her ‘clean up’ after practice?”

Shadow’s voice had become more labored.

“Ok Sergeant Wild Wind, that’s enough. That not how you should treat mares.”

A fourth voice sounded quietly and deeply along with the name ‘Sgt. Razor Wings’ on the screen.

“I’d cut that out if I were you Chaff.”

“Savage bro, I’ll cut it out when Hunter here realizes that ignoring mares is no way to treat them either.”

“CHAFF SHUT THE BUCK UP BEFORE I GET THERE AND PLANT MY BUCKING HOOF IN YOUR RUMP!” yelled Shadow. On Spitfire’s end, everypony jumped. They’d heard Shadow yell before, loud and constantly, but never in anger. Nor had they ever heard him swear.

“I don’t need your egging on or your sarcasm today. I don’t want to hear anything else out of you that isn’t mission-related until we’re done,” growled Shadow. “Savage, you can punch him each time he speaks out of turn.”

“Yes sir,” answered Razor Wings.

“But Hunter! If you don’t let me help with your love life, you’ll be forever aOWWW!”

“When I want your help, I’ll ask for it.”

After that statement, the only noise coming from the speakers was the rush of the wind. Spitfire peeled her gaze away from the computer to see the rest of the ‘bolts glued to the screen. Dash in particular was staring with the sort of intensity she exhibited when trying to memorize a new trick. In that silence, Twitch nudged Spitfire and whispered in her ear.

“Well, I guess this answers all your questions. Looks like coach is a soldier. Makes sense with how loud he yells and how much he loves wing-ups. Oh and, I think that Wild Wind guy had some solid advice, don’t you?”

Spitfire blushed. Half out of desire to change the topic, and half out of actual curiosity she asked,

“So do you think those speed and altitude readings are…legitimate?”

Twitch rubbed her chin with a hoof for moment before she replied.

“Well…after everything else we’ve seen so far, I don’t see any reason why not. This is after all a broadcast from a piece of technology that shouldn’t exist. Who knows? Perhaps his suit makes him faster. It wouldn’t be that much of a stretch if it can already make him nearly invisible.”

“Well, if he really is a royal guard, where are his weapons?”

“Dunno, but if he’s really going to go rescue a hostage, we’re gonna find out soon.”

An expectant hush fell as the ‘bolts waited. If anypony had flown by at that moment, it would have appeared that the flight team had abandoned practice in order to hold a You-Trough party. They watched intently for a few more minutes until the monotonous wind noise was broken by Shadow.

“Alright, I’m two moons out. Decelerating to sub-sonic now.”

On the laptop screen, the view shifted downward until instead of looking at the sky, a thick and verdant forest was to be seen below. It stretched out as far as the camera could take in for every direction, all the way out to the horizon. There were no hills, so it seemed to be one endless forest, aside from a small patch of bright green in the distance. As that patch drew closer, it revealed itself to be a clearing in the woods. Shadow alighted on a cloud large enough to be hidden from the ground below, landing gently as so to not move or shake it.

“I’m in position, give me a minute to set up, then we’re good to go.”

Taking off his saddlebags and setting them down on the cloud caused them to shimmer and return to their plain brown appearance. He opened them up, causing most of the ‘bolts to gasp and murmur in confusion for not the first time that afternoon. The saddlebags were somehow bigger on the inside than on the outside, and there was a lot of stuff inside. Underneath his coach’s outfit, water bottle, and sky phone lay a clatter of black-tinted weapons and ammunition.

“Toldja so!” Twitch exclaimed as she hoofed Spitfire in the shoulder. Spitfire winced, but kept watching. She’d seen as many action movies as the next pony, and had something of a hobby for guns. She knew what the Guard had in its inventory, and was looking forward to a chance to see some of the stuff civilians like her couldn’t have up close.

Reaching into the bag, Shadow drew out a knife, perhaps two hooves long, still its sheath. With familiarity born of practice, he deftly tied it to his left foreleg with a strip of cloth. Once it was tight, he reached back into his bags for more. Just as quickly, he took out a standard Guard issue hoof-gun and after placing it into a holster, strapped both to his left hind leg. The next item was a guard’s ammunition belt, the black webbing cinched tight around his midsection. The pistol magazines were in place, but where the riffle ammunition should go lay a set of magazines she’d never seen before. They were not as deep, but longer and wider, and the bullets inside were larger and longer.

Spitfire watched in anticipation for Shadow to do what always happened next in war movies. He’d pull out a really bad-rump looking rifle. She wasn’t disappointed when the next best thing happened instead. He started to assemble his weapon. It had a barrel half again as long as the standard one the guards carried, and a narrow scope on the top. The side had the kind of bolt-action that was used on the rifles that ponies used to deal with bears and windegos. Is that some kind of new hunting rifle then? Scratched onto the side of the stock was the word WINTER.

With practiced ease, Shadow drew one of the larger magazines off his belt and slid it into the rifle. A quick twitch of his right forehoof served to slide the bolt action forward and down, chambering a round. Drawing his pistol, he did the same with the smaller weapon before holstering it again.

Quickly snapping the saddlebags shut, Shadow tossed them on his back, and got down on his stomach. He crawled slowly without upsetting the cloud he was on until he reached the edge. Once there, he reached up and tapped his helmet several times. On the screen, the left half magnified, and cross hairs appeared in the middle. In that zoomed view, several outlines in white appeared in the trees, shaped like pegasi. Beside them were the labels:

Crash ****
Chaff ***
Savage ***

By the edge of the clearing there were two objects outlined in red, in the shape of griffons, sitting down. Two more were walking through the trees about halfway between the clearing and the pegasi.

“Ok, I’m ready to provide overwatch,” murmured Shadow far more quietly and calmly than before. “I count four hostiles. Two on patrol, five hundred lengths from your position toward the clearing, moving south by southeast. There are two more outside the target structure standing guard. I’m sending you the video feed now.”

“Alright,” replied Crash. “We’re moving up on the patrol now.”

From Shadow’s birds-eye view, it was painfully easy to see what was going on. The griffons kept walking, unaware of the ponies sneaking up from behind. It was a slow creep of white advancing on red through the woods. After a few minutes they had almost caught up, and were following at the same pace as their prey.

“We’ve got eyes on,” reported Crash.

“Good. I’ll take the one in front, you three take out the one in the rear, on my hack."

The left-hoof view zoomed in until the griffon marching in the lead was taking up most of the screen. Shadow moved his rifle gently until the crosshairs were slightly leading the red shape. Still holding the lead, he counted off slowly and softly. While he counted, the griffon walked into a space visible to the sky above, and went from being an outline to being fully in view.

Its plumage was a dull brown, with white chest and crest feathers. Strapped over its back was a Harley Flock model forty-seven rifle, over a golden cape displaying a claw. Behind him, his comrade was dressed similarly.

“Three, two, one, fire.”

At that point, everything happened so suddenly and so quietly that Spitfire had trouble following along.

In the right half of the screen, Shadow pressed his hoof up against the trigger and flexed his lower leg. The rifle kicked hard in response against his shoulder, and a flash of gray magic appeared at the muzzle of the weapon. Spitfire was expecting a loud bang, but the most audible sound was the click of the trigger pull.

A fraction of a second later on the left screen, the griffon’s head exploded. The headless creature toppled to the ground, resting in brain matter and an expanding pool of its own blood leaking from its jagged neckline. Zooming out slightly, the second griffon came into view. It was still mostly intact, but collapsed on the ground every bit as dead, bleeding from of a number of holes in its head and body.

“Excellent. Move up.” Shadow gave his order and flicked the bolt action on his rifle. The spent shell landed on the cloud and bounced once, still smoking slightly from the open end before falling to the forest below. In his view, the pegasi below turned toward the clearing.

“W-wha-what…what the Tartarus just happened?” demanded Spitfire. “He just killed…that was horrible!”

“And why didn’t his gun make any noise?” demanded Rapidfire.

She looked around to see more than a few of her team similarly sickened from seeing such a bloody end to a living creature, innocent or not. Among those apparently unaffected were Tameless and Twitch, the former looking interested, and the latter looking rather guilty. Spitfire was about to yell at them both without any further care before Twitch beat her to it. Rather than yelling, she settled for answering Rapidfire’s question.

“Well, I know the Guard has been working on some kind of silencing spell for a number of years. Judging by that magic flash at the tip of his gun when he shot it, and the lack of a loud noise, I’d say it is working.”

“Spell? But he’s a pegasus!” countered Spitfire.

“Oh come on Spits’. Your phone runs on magic too, but you use it just fine. Unicorns made it, and you use it. Some unicorn must have enchanted it for him, just like your phone. Get a grip. What’s making you so darn angry anyways? That griffon would have done the same to Shadow, or to you given the chance.”

Twitch’s question made Spitfire stop. Well what is making me so angry after all? It couldn’t have been the griffon dying. She’d seen movies of things die many times, and she also know that the creature had put its life far beyond forfeit in holding an Equestrian Princess hostage. While thinking on the answer, she looked back up and caught Tameless’s gaze. In a flash, the answer came to her.

“So this is what you couldn’t tell me?”

Tameless’s visage softened and he reached forward to put a forehoof on Spitfire’s shoulder.

“No, I never knew about this. I promise. What he told me the day we hired him is that he worked for the Kingdom, and that I wasn’t to speak about it, ever, unless I wanted to be ‘put away’. I figured as long as he did a good job as conditioning coach, that there would be no need for me to ever bring it up, so I didn’t. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, but does it really make a difference? And hey, seems your little search is over, and now we all know why he was so good at his job.”

Logically Spitfire knew that Tameless was right, and while the emotional side of her was begging to hold a grudge, professionalism wouldn’t allow for it. It didn’t help that she started blushing when Tameless mentioned her ‘search’ into Shadow’s secrets. Is there anypony on this team that doesn’t know? She nodded to him, and put a forehoof up on his shoulder to re-assure him.

“Alright Tameless, it seems my trust was well placed, and I forgive you. I didn’t mean to be angry. It’s all just such a shock.”

“It’s surprising for me too Spits’. Though, I’d really appreciate it if everypony could avoid bringing this up. Forever. I don’t want this to become an incident, and I don’t want to find out what ‘put away’ meant.”

The ‘bolts murmured their assent and then returned their attention to Twitch’s computer. It may have looked like a bunch of fillies and colts watching cartoons, but Spitfire was eager to be a part of it. She had to admit to herself she did want to see more. Mentally noting that she owed Twitch her thanks, she sat back down with her team.

Back on the screen, Shadow was now zoomed in on the next pair of griffons, who were standing guard at the edge of the clearing. Their outlines clearly showed through the trees that they were relaxed and not alert.

“Ok, same plan. I’ll get the one to the north.” Shadow’s voice was deathly calm. “Oh my go, one-“

“Wait!” hissed Crash. “That’s not going to work. LT, can you switch to an unfiltered view?”

“I can, but there is too much foliage in the way, I won’t have a clear view. Can you send me what you’re seeing?”

A moment later, the left half of the screen faded out to show Crash’s view. He was on the forest floor, which was covered in dead pine needles. Shafts of sunlight filtered down from the canopy above, but Crash himself was lurking in the shadows cast by one of the tall pines. Cradled by the ghostly outline of his left forehoof was the same kind of assault rifle that most guards carried; painted dark and looking dangerous.

With his other forehoof, he was pointing out through the woods toward an oddly shaped mound of dirt, perhaps fifty lengths away. It was roughly dome-shaped and about the size of a small hut. Along the side it was covered in burlap cloth at two points which Spitfire guessed were windows. The griffons were inside it, and from Crash’s point of view sitting in manner that suggested they had chairs. A ways beyond the earthen home, the clearing opened up, and a log cabin was just visible through the trees.

“Hostiles have taken cover in that earthen bunker. Sniper rounds won’t get through.”

At that moment, a wash of static hit the speakers, along with a string of words in a harsh, guttural language. After a few moments pause, the message was repeated, the speaker talking faster and in a higher pitch.

“Crash, what did they say?”

“That was a radio check to the patrol that we shot up back there. They didn’t get a response and tried again.”

“Well then we need to finish this now.”

“I think our best option would be for you to take out the bunker with a shock boom,” advised Crash. “Then, as soon as the turbulence settles, we fly through, breach and clear the target building, and you join us as soon as you’ve recovered.”

“Alright, I’ll be right on down.”

Shadow slung his rifle over his back, and strapped it down very tightly. At the same time, the screen shifted such that only his view was visible. With a quick leap he propelled himself into the air, and angled onto a heading straight toward the bunker.

In fewer seconds that Spitfire could have counted on her hooves, Shadow was pressing up against a sonic cone. Instead of the high open skies though, he couldn’t have been more than a thousand lengths above the ground. He can’t be dumb enough to try to go supersonic like that. What the hay is he doing?

At such a speed, the tree-tops were approaching fast, but Shadow did not slow down, nor did he push through the sound barrier. It was almost as if he were trying to hold his speed steady just under supersonic. In his view the trees grew close enough to see the individual branches. He’s going to crash!

A mere twenty lengths above the ground, Shadow stopped pumping his wings. What happened next, Spitfire was intimately familiar with. When a pegasus so close to breaking the sound barrier stopped pushing against it, it would shove them backwards violently and create a shockwave where they had stopped. True to her knowledge, Shadow was forcefully hurled several hundred lengths straight up. Below him though, something entirely different happened. The shock wave kept going.

Upon meeting the ground, the shockwave tore the bunker and surrounding ground to pieces. Chunks of earth, tree branches, and anything else in a twenty length radius was thrown into the air and ripped apart. The windstorm did not settle quickly, and it was hard to see anything on the inside from the dust within.

While Shadow hung suspended above the violence below, three rifts cut through the dusty air, speeding toward the cabin at the edge of the dust cloud. As he managed to halt his upward momentum, three pegasi winked into existence, all well-armed and wearing black body suits, stacked up on the cabin door. The one in the back reached up to put a forehoof on the shoulder of the one in the middle, who did the same to the pony in front. When the hoof landed on his shoulder, the pony in the lead jumped in front of the door, landing on his front two hooves. One powerful buck later, and the door was open for the other two to advance. They charged inside with their weapons raised, quickly followed by the one who breached the door.

During this time, Shadow finished recovering from being thrown by the shockwave, and started a more controlled dive toward the cabin. Landing but a few moments later, he drew the pistol out of his holster and followed his team inside.

The first thing that greeted him was an unfurnished room with a dirt floor, an open door leading to another room beyond. On the floor were two griffons. The first was dead, a bullet hole right above its beak and its white plumage smeared with red. The other had a large hole in its chest which was bleeding profusely. It was still twitching, and as it saw Shadow enter, it made one last attempt to grab its rifle.

Darting forward, Shadow kicked the gun out of the creature’s reach and into the corner. Just as quickly, he brought up his hoof-gun and put three shots into the griffon’s skull. The creature shook and its head dropped to the side, oozing. Like his rifle, the tip of the pistol glowed gray, and the only noise that could be heard was the slide action of the pistol chambering the rounds.

Sure that the griffon was dead, Shadow headed through the open door into the next room. It also had a dirt floor, but had an open window facing out into the clearing. Two of the pegasi were standing guard. One by the window, holding a rifle in his hooves with a long tube strapped over his back, the other by the door with a shotgun at the ready. Both were black clad and wearing saddlebags and side arms similar to Shadow’s. Those small details were lost on Spitfire, and most likely Shadow as well, who was focused on what was in the corner.

A long steel table was pressed up against the wall, and bound to the top of it with thick hempen ropes was a purple alicorn, barely clinging to consciousness. Her hide was coated with scrapes, cuts, lacerations and bruises, and the table was covered in drops and pools of her blood, both fresh and congealed. Clamped roughly onto her horn was a cold iron dampening ring. Amidst the grisly sight, another pegasus was busy cutting her loose.

“TWILIGHT!” yelled Dash, now furious.

“Twilight…” gasped Shadow in a ghost of a whisper before clearing his throat and holstering his pistol. His camouflage faded, leaving him coated as darkly as the rest of his team as he walked up to the table. When he spoke again, it was in a sure yet concerned tone of voice.

“Princess Twilight, can you hear me? This is Lieutenant Shadow Wing of Timberwolf Team. We’re here to bring you home.”

The princess tried to murmur a reply, but fell unconscious before she was able to. At her side, the pegasus finished cutting the ropes and put away his knife. He unclipped his rifle from his chest, and stood guard over his princess. Shadow tapped his helmet several times and then spoke.

“Crescent? This is Hunter. We’ve secured Amethyst.”

The reply came back in a voice Spitfire knew from the few times she’d heard it at nationally important races. This time though, it was not booming, but quiet and interested.

“We understand young warrior, our thanks and congratulations to you Hunter. Return her to us, and we will see to her care when you get back.”

“Understood my princess.” Shadow tapped his helmet again, and turned to face the pony by Twilight. Through the visor, his white coat framed soft blue eyes, steeled into a solemn glare. A few strands of gray mane were just visible against the side of his head.

“Crash, help me pick her up,” ordered Shadow. “We’ll carry her while Chaff and Savage cover us.”

“Uh, LT?” asked the pegasus by the window.

“What is it Savage?” asked Shadow as he struggled to pick up the unconscious alicorn.

“We’ve got hostiles inbound. Check your R-frequency scanner.”

Shadow set Twilight back down gently, and toggled the view on his helmet. Again the screen split into two halves, the right showing what Shadow was looking at, and the other the readout from the view he’d toggled, which Spitfire couldn’t make any sense out of. It had a series of concentric circles, and at the center was a small cluster of blue dots. Up at to the left a little bit there was a larger glob of yellow dots, moving slowly toward the blue ones. Shadow swore quietly and galloped over to the window. Once there, he unslung his rifle, released his visor, and brought the scope to his eye. Whatever he saw through that lens, Spitfire couldn’t see, but whatever it was, Shadow didn’t like it.

“Oh Tartarus,” he snapped as he re-slung his rifle. “Change of plans colts. Savage, Chaff, you’re going to carry the princess out on hoof. Don’t take to the skies until you hear the boom, and don’t you dare go supersonic; you’ll strip the flesh from her bones. Crash and I will stay here and buy you some time to get away. Leave the launcher and the shotgun here.”

Chaff nodded and hoofed the shotgun over to Shadow. Savage though was reluctant to relinquish his weapon.

“But sir, there are too many for the two of you. You’re not going to make it out if you stay behind. And why the two of us?”

“Because,” answered Shadow, who seething more with each word. “You two are bigger, and thus faster, and faster still without extra weapons that Crash and I could use. Because both of you have wives and foals at home, and Crash and I don’t. Because, we can’t outrun them without either going supersonic or drawing them off, and because I bucking ordered you to! Now MOVE!”

Savage jerked forward at the sudden increase in volume, and held out his launcher for Crash to take. Crash took it with a nod and a firm hoof-shake. Shadow turned, and gave Chaff the same goodbye. The air of camaraderie was almost tangible until they all moved to help Savage and Chaff pick up the princess. Once she was well balanced between the two of them, they trotted briskly out the door and into the woods. As they crossed the threshold, Shadow presented them a salute. On the edge of the screen, Spitfire could see Crash doing the same thing.

“May Celestia and Luna grant you both safety.”

How can this be happening?! He can’t just leave himself and his friend to die! He can’t…

By the time Spitfire got a grip on herself, Shadow was in a frenzy of activity, planting small sun-shaped disks on the walls, under the table and on the ceiling. Beside him, Crash was doing the same thing with tender care. They were rapidly going over some kind of plan.

“…they get inside, you shoot the rocket in the front door, and if all the solar flare charges don’t go up, hit the detonator. We’ll improvise and mop up whatever else is left after that.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan. Oh, stick the last one there.” Crash pointed behind the door, and Shadow moved to oblige. “Ok, that’s all the charges I’ve got. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Together they walked into the room, and sat down in front of the window, rifles up. Shadow sighed, and let his back down.

“Ease up Crash, it will be a few minutes yet before they’re in range.”

Crash sat his rifle down, and released his visor. A few seconds later, Shadow did the same. Silence reigned for just a few seconds before Crash broke it.

“Well, we’ve got the time, you wanna talk about something? We never really did get a lot of time to talk after you got dragged into being on this team. I aint got too much to say, but you’ve always been real quiet.”

“Stable Sergeant Storm Crasher, what could possibly make you think that this is a good time to talk?”

“You got a better way to pass the time?” Crash was fidgeting nervously with his rifle.

“I suppose not.” Shadow paused for a moment before continuing. “Well, time to talk hasn’t really been a priority. Learning to kill stuff has. As for quiet…well I’ve got a lot of stuff that should probably be said, but we don’t have the time, and in a few minutes it won’t likely matter anyways. I do want to say I still feel bad about Aveston. I know you, and Dad…and the Princesses say it wasn’t my fault, but I still can’t get over it. No use dwelling on it now though.”

“Isn’t really my place to tell you what to think of that.”

“Guess not. Though I do have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“I know this may sound morbid, but say we don’t make it out of this. What would you have changed if you could go back and do it again?”

Crash chuckled.

“Look, you’re gonna think I’m joking, but I really don’t have many regrets. Honestly if I could change just one thing, I always wanted to learn to play the piano. Be that colt in the bar that just plays to make everypony else happy. As for everything, yes even being a Timberwolf, I wouldn’t change it.” Crash nodded contentedly to himself, and then looked over at Shadow. “What about you Shadow?”

Shadow paused and let out a sigh. Crash smiled at him.

“What’s eating you Hunter? You know if we make it, I will never, ever tell Chaff.”

“Oh alright,” said Shadow. “I didn’t know what to say to Chaff because I really wish there was something like that in my life. I…I love Spitfire. I really do. And I regret not telling her that. Just waiting all that time hoping she might say something first. Now, I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance, and…it’s really sad that I’m less scared of being shot at than bringing it up to her. I always thought there would be another day to try.”

Spitfire felt herself start to cry. Sure Shadow seemed a little awkward when she first hired him, but never had she suspected he might feel that way. Hearing him say so as if they were his last words was too much to bear. Without thinking, she reached past Twitch and hoofed the button to take off the mute from her end.

“Shadow, don’t do this!” she choked out.

Around her, the ‘bolts were shocked into stillness by what she had just done. On screen, Crash looked askance.

“LT, what was that?”

Shadow took off his helmet and set it down, such that all Spitfire could see was the dirt of the floor it was resting on. Shadow’s voice sounded like it was coming from very far away.

“That was something that tells me that this mission just got a lot harder. If we want to help the ponies on the other end of the line to not be jailed for being on this comm line, we’re going to have to survive to plead for them.”

Author's Note

Phew. All the headcannon and worldbuilding. Thank you again Dizziestbeef for pointing out all my stupid.

For the readers: A hoof is equivalent to a hoof diameter, or about 4 inches (~9.7 centimeters). All other made up units can be assumed to be their metric equivalents. Retcon to use an IPv5 address for the equipment network. If you know what that means, you can probably guess why I did it.

Sorry to cliffhanger, but if I didn't, this chapter might go 15k+ words.

On a final note, remember: warfare is not pretty, it is hell.